“You don’t look happy to see me.”
Will’s head shot up at the sound of Hannah’s voice. “You.”
“Me.” She leaned against the doorjamb, looking entirely out of place at the Wellington Thorne offices in her skinny jeans, Chuck Taylors, and a vintage Dashboard Confessional tee. It was awesome. He could already imagine the whispers. Everyone knew he’d gotten married. No one had met Hannah, but the picture on his desk was from the wedding.
Under the smile, her appearance showed the frenzy and stress of the last thirteen days. Thirty concerts in thirty days didn’t seem like that much to Will when there were five editors covering shows, but between Hannah’s boss going out on maternity leave and one of the other editors getting mono, the month had quickly gone from manageable to messy. Hannah practically lived at concert venues, and he was almost surprised she didn’t sleep at the office. He wondered if any of it had to do with the growing pains their marriage was currently experiencing.
There’d been the argument about the apartment being a mess, where Hannah had made her feelings on Will’s lifestyle abundantly clear. And then Hannah had delayed their plans on Saturday to unpack her things and canceled tonight’s dinner with Madison and Jon, almost requiring him to have dinner with them on his own. Will was less than gracious at that news, and she was quick to point out that she didn’t need Will’s permission to adjust her schedule. Workaholic meet workaholic. Things between them were by no means bad, but they also weren’t easy. It didn’t help that every time she scrunched her nose at him in frustration, he wanted to pull her down onto their bed and spend the next several hours getting to know every inch of her body. Except there would be no going back for him the moment he had sex with her.
“Welcome to Wellington Thorne, Mrs. Thorne,” he said, coming around his desk to greet her.
“I brought lunch,” she said, holding up a paper bag.
It had no obvious markings, but the smell of grease hit the moment he got closer. “You didn’t.”
“I did.” They sat as she started unpacking the containers, laying out the spread on the small table in the corner of his office. “Burgers and fries from your favorite Village hole-in-the-wall.”
If this was a peace offering, it might be the best there had ever been. It even came with fountain drinks.
“I knew I married you for a reason.”
“Yes, for my incredible taste in music, not for my ability to successfully drag five pounds of beef and fries across the city.”
She scooted her chair forward until their knees touched. He had barely processed her closeness before she pulled him in by the tie. Their lips crashed together, and Will let her take the lead. She parted his lips and slid her tongue across his own. His body stirred, wanting so much more—it always did when Hannah kissed him.
“Hannah.” He pulled back, the word barely a whisper. They couldn’t do this here—not like this.
“Tell me you feel it too,” she said in a low voice, her forehead pressed against his.
He stared at her hands, that single word—too—rolling around in his head. Tell me you feel it too. Which meant she felt something for him. “You know I do.”
“I want to invoke Rule 3a.” She’d said it plainly, but to Will, she might as well have exclaimed her love for him from the rooftops.
“What?” Great, now he sounded like an idiot.
“We’ve been sharing a bed for two weeks and practicing kissing and...” She took his hand in hers. “I want to be able to do what we just did and feel what I just felt without wondering what it means and what we’re doing, and if I’m jeopardizing our friendship and the pact by thinking that I want more. Because I want more, Will.”
Holy shit. He was not expecting this when she walked in the door. “I-I completely agree.”
She nodded, and a shy smile lit her face. “So, husband...” She kissed him again, and he prayed that no one decided to walk into his office right now. “Will you be my boyfriend?”
His heart swelled. Those words were perfect in their ridiculousness. Nothing could be more them.
“Yes,” he said, sitting the slightest bit back. He had to say the rest of it before there was no going back. “But I have one stipulation—consider it Rule 3b.”
She scrunched her nose in confusion, and Will tightened his grip on her hands to keep from pulling her into his lap and forgetting all rational thought.
“Okay?”
“I’d like to take it slow, make sure our hearts are in it too.” Or until he was sure her heart was in it—his was already there, ready to drop those three little words and mean them forever. But he’d loved Hannah for years, and she’d only had him back in her life for a month.
“But we can still do this?” She kissed his neck, the edge of his chin, and the corner of his mouth before bringing their lips together in an earth-shattering kiss.
Will’s hands shook in his lap. Taking it slow was going to be difficult. “Yes, we can still do that.”
“I’ll add it to our agreement,” she said, sitting back.
Will watched her, still not believing this was happening. But it was. He had married Hannah. And that was about to mean so much more. “You know, you didn’t have to butter me up with burgers before asking that.”
She grinned. “Those were actually for my next request.”
“Uh-oh.”
“What would you say to lunch with Kate and her new guy one weekend?” Hannah asked as she stole yet another fry out of Will’s container.
“Oh, there’s a new guy?”
“Yeah,” Hannah said around her straw. “Actually, it’s crazy, because he started as a Herpes.”
“A what?” Will’s voice went too high at the shock of the word.
Hannah bent over herself laughing. She held a hand up, signaling him to wait for an explanation as soon as she caught her breath—which he wasn’t sure would ever happen. Her cheeks had turned bright pink with laughter, and it hadn’t died down. She had to be exhausted to laugh like that.
“Sorry to interrupt.”
They both froze, and Hannah’s laugh cut short at the sound of Jonathan’s voice. Will suppressed a shudder. Jonathan, who never came to the city, had appeared on the one day Hannah surprised him for lunch. Maybe his father was having him followed.
“Dad?” Will had spent years training himself to address Jonathan by his name at the office, but something told him this wasn’t a professional visit. For one thing, Jonathan wasn’t wearing a tie, and two, he didn’t just drop in. He expected others to come to him.
