A knock on his door brought Will to attention. In the seconds it took him to walk across his office, he hoped it was Hannah. A hot office make-out session was exactly what he needed to brighten his mood. But Hannah was busy finishing her section layout at work. Will didn’t expect to see her home until the last caption was in place and every article had been read backward and aloud.

“Hey, Uncle Grayson,” Will said, finding his uncle on the other side of the door. Will assumed he was visiting as his uncle and not as the CEO.

“I thought we could have lunch together.” Grayson set a Susanna’s bag down on the small table in Will’s office, stacking some papers that were in the way—papers that Will’s junior associate had organized into separate piles the day before. At least he’d had the sense to tag them with colored stickers. “I asked the staff there for your regular. Hope that’s okay?”

“That’s great, thank you.”

“I can’t believe you have me eating this bird food when Aunt Maggie’s not around.” His uncle poked at his salad. “How’s Hannah?”

“Busy,” Will said with an easy smile. “She’s looking forward to dinner next week, though.”

“Good. I know Aunt Maggie’s looking forward to it too.” They ate in silence for a few minutes. Will enjoyed the companionable silence, but at the same time, he knew this wasn’t a social visit.

“Hannah’s a good girl,” Grayson said finally, “and the right people at that party noticed how she grounds you, how you are with her. I’m hearing only good things about you. I suspect that board seat will come along soon enough.”

Will swallowed the bite he’d been chewing. The pact had worked on everyone except the person he needed to convince the most. His father would never see him as anything more than his emotional, whimsical screwup of a son. “Jonathan will never—”

“You leave your old man to me.” His uncle put the cap on his barely eaten salad. “I can’t eat this crap. You want anything from Tony’s?”

Will shook his head, still a little shocked by the unexpected news. Things worked slowly at Wellington Thorne. “Soon enough” could mean in the next year, but it was better than never.

“Knock, knock.”

No. Not today. He squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe this was a nightmare. Madison could not be standing in his doorway.

Grayson turned, his eyes widening at Madison’s presence. Fuck. He stood and patted Will on the back. “Only good things, William. Don’t make me regret backing you.”

He walked past Madison with a cursory nod. At least Will knew someone would pick his side if it came down to it.

“What do you want?”

“Is that any way to greet your sister-in-law?” she said, shutting the door behind her.

Too many curse words ran through his head. “Door open. We don’t have closed-door conversations anymore.”

“So dramatic, William,” she said but pulled the door open.

“Again, what do you want?” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head. He had to admit, he’d expected her sooner. Pretty much since the second Hannah had asked if she should accept the invite to be in the wedding, he’d been holding his breath. No. Hell no. Fuck no. Except he couldn’t exactly say any of that without also telling her about Madison. And again, he hadn’t done it. How could he when things were finally where he wanted them to be with Hannah? He knew keeping the secret would only make it worse when he did tell her, but telling her now could blow up everything they were building. It wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. So he’d nodded and smiled at her request, his stomach threatening to reject the pound of Chinese food he’d eaten for dinner.

“In about ten minutes, Jon’s going to come in here and ask you to be the fourth for his poker night.” Madison sat in the seat across from him, crossing her legs. Visions of other midday visits and more revealing outfits flashed through his mind. “You are going to say yes.”

“Why would I do that?”

Madison smiled. “Did Hannah mention that we’re having a girls’ day after the holidays? We’re going to get her measurements done for her dress and then brunch with the whole bridal party. It would be a shame if someone let slip that you and me... Women and mimosas are never good for secret keeping.”

How was this his life? Everyone had screwed him over and lived happily ever after, and he was the one being blackmailed.

“Why do you care if I spend time with Jon?”

Her face lost its hard edge at the comment. She looked up at him with soft eyes, the same ones he used to get lost in. “Because he cares, William. Would it really be so hard to spend time with him?”

“Yes, it really would.”

“You’re married! To someone you’ve loved forever. Do you think I don’t remember hearing about Hannah? Why does what happened even matter anymore? You won.”

Will liked the sound of that. He liked the feel of it even more. He’d won. Had he really? Maybe, if he didn’t mess up everything with Hannah. If that awfulness brought him here, would it have been worth the pain? He wanted to believe so. If it had been a normal betrayal—if it had been anyone other than his brother—things might’ve been different. But he wasn’t sure he would ever truly forgive Jon. And trust? Trust was out of the question.

SUN. BRIGHT. NO. UGH. Never again. Will threw his arm over his eyes, blocking the strips of light slipping through the blinds. Why didn’t his father invest in blackout curtains? He groaned and rolled over, burying his head under his pillow. Poker was officially blacklisted. He should’ve known better than to try and bluff his way through every hand against a bunch of financial experts. He flopped over again, sitting back against the headboard. There was a bottle of water on his bedside table. The bottle sat atop a napkin with Hannah’s handwriting scribbled across the front. He took a sip and picked up the note. Thought you might need this. There was even a smiley face. Well, that was cute. Where was she? Her sneakers were still by the closet, as was her yoga mat.

He closed his eyes, willing his headache away. The gurgle of the coffee maker and the banging of pans sounded from the kitchen. That was new—they rarely cooked. Maybe they needed to try one of those preordered services. Cooking together could be messy and romantic. Hannah would be highly impressed by his superior chopping skills. He could be her sous-chef. His mind concocted an image of Hannah bossing him around their kitchen in a sexy chef outfit. He hadn’t consciously known chefs could be sexy, but his subconscious knew. Oh, did it ever. He felt himself grow hard. Where was that year-round Halloween store? He would find it, and he would have that costume. He groaned and banged his head against the headboard.

“You okay over there?” Hannah leaned against the doorjamb, an apron tied around her waist. It only covered her bottom half, and spots of flour dotted her shirt.

“Why are you only wearing half of the apron?”

“Have you ever worn an apron?” she asked, tugging at the thin fabric.

“Yes,” he said, remembering that weird period between college and Madison, otherwise known as law school.

“Well then you know they can be incredibly uncomfortable, particularly when they have all this lacey frill around the edges.”

“True, and I was usually naked underneath.”

A blush crept up her cheeks. She tried to throw words together, but nothing coherent came out. He loved that he had that effect on her.

“I don’t even want to know,” she said, shaking her head. “Breakfast is ready.”

There was no way he could stand up right now. If the thought of him naked in an apron made her blush, the truth of the situation might make her swoon. “Awesome, let me just, uh, wash up.”  

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you do that.”

That woman was going to be the death of him. He smiled at the ceiling. At least he had a date planned for today, and it was going to be epic. And she’d cooked him breakfast. He looked at the smiley face on the note again and sent up a silent prayer that he hadn’t done anything too embarrassing last night. He’d been pretty wasted. The driver had handed him back his tip when he’d blithely slipped him a hundred dollars. Will would pay it forward in Rob’s Christmas bonus.

“The bacon is getting cold!”

He pulled the sheets back with a laugh—always so impatient. She was lucky she was cute. After a quick stop in the bathroom, he slid into the chair across from Hannah. A coffee and a heaping stack of waffles awaited him.

“We have a waffle maker?”

“Someone sent it after the party—Martha? Margaret?” She motioned to the pile of gifts they had yet to open.

Apparently, a city hall wedding without a registry didn’t stop people from buying them appliances. He’d expected more letters about donations in their name from his father’s ilk, but that had not been the case.

“Supposedly you can make brownies and other delicious treats in this contraption and, oddly, crab cakes,” she said, spearing a strawberry from the fruit salad. This apartment had never seen so much fresh fruit since Hannah arrived.

“Crab waffles?”