“I knew he smoked. We ran in the same circles,” she said with a shrug. “But he’d told me he quit—was quitting. And I believed him. To his credit, he never smoked around me. About a month after we got engaged, we were talking about the wedding. I joked that he was allowed the customary cigar with his brothers. He declined and said something like it hadn’t even been a year since he’d last touched a cigarette.”
Hannah did the math in her head. Her parents had dated for two years before they got engaged. “He lied about smoking for a year?”
“Yes, he did.” Her mother put a gentle hand to Hannah’s face. “Relationships are built on moments—a million moments big and small and in between. And I decided—over lots of tears and wine—that I wasn’t willing to throw all those moments away over this new information. I don’t think I would’ve left him had I found out he was still smoking, and he’d lived in a fraternity house where everyone around him smoked. I should’ve known. I did know but turned a blind eye. That’s not to say I wasn’t hurt. It was something we had to work past, but that’s what marriage is.”
“So, you think I should forgive him?”
“I think you should at the very least talk to him.” Her mother sighed. “You went in knowing he had a broken heart. That much he didn’t lie about. Would you have made a different choice if you’d known the identity of his ex?”
Hannah tried to reconfigure her acceptance of the pact with the knowledge that Madison was his ex. She would’ve had different questions, more questions. She hadn’t even asked about his ex. For all she’d known, Will’s ex was still in his life—perhaps a coworker at Wellington Thorne, a family friend that he had no choice but to still see. She hadn’t asked.
“You’ll figure it out,” her mother said, patting her shoulder. Hannah sniffled. Her mother clasped her hand between her own. “You will. Just don’t let your anger at Madison cloud your anger for Will. They are two different hurts. Make sure you remember that.”
Hannah tucked herself into her mother’s arms, her head resting on her shoulder, somehow still the perfect fit. “I’m glad you’re here, Mom.”
Chapter 42Will
For Will’s whole life, he’d been groomed to sit on the executive board and help run Wellington Thorne. Jon would always be the heir, destined to take over after Grayson stepped down, but Will would become his brother’s trusted advisor as general counsel. When that future started to seem less likely, he’d been set adrift. Hannah had righted his world and set him back on track. She hadn’t even had to try.
But after two straight days of board meetings, Will almost wished he had been barred for life. The meetings were tedious, and it had become clear in the first five minutes that Will was not going to get a word in edgewise. Jon had barely spoken, and he’d been on the board for four years. Jon and Will might be the future of Wellington Thorne, but the table of old men running the show wasn’t about to let the younger generation set the pace. Not yet—and certainly not while the tension between Jon and Will was palpable.
It was usually Will glaring at Jon, but for the past two days, Jon had sat across from Will, a permanent scowl on his countenance. Will had wanted to ask him what the issue was. It should have been a welcome surprise to find Will here in his rightful place when Jon had spent so much time trying—and failing—to spend time with his younger brother. Will could guess at his brother’s discomfort, but Madison couldn’t have been that reckless. In telling Jon even half of the truth, she would both implicate herself and threaten the tenuous hold she had on the Thorne name.
Will walked out of the board room at the next break, stretching after hours of sitting. He felt Jon’s eyes glued to his back. Even Jonathan had noticed, giving his eldest son no less than two reproachful glares in the last hour. But Will couldn’t care less about Jon’s turmoil and why it was directed at him. Jon certainly hadn’t cared about Will’s when he’d asked him to give a speech at the wedding. If Jon expected Will’s marriage to magically absolve him of all his crimes, then his brother would need to get over whatever slight Will had unintentionally spun into motion.
“William. My office. Now.” Jon’s voice was fierce and left no room for rebuttal. Will hesitated only a moment before turning on his heels and following his brother.
Unlike Will’s enclosed space with solid walls and privacy, Jon’s office had glass spanning the front and did little to keep sound from slipping through into the larger office. This was a mistake. Will felt it deep in his bones. He sat down across from his brother, who paced behind his desk.
“What in the world is going on with you?” Will asked when his brother showed no sign of standing still.
Jon stopped midpace. His eyes bored into Will, fury rising behind them. He clenched his fists, and his voice when he spoke was ragged with anger. “You kissed my fiancée.”
Will sprung to his feet, the fight in his fight-or-flight response winning out despite Jon’s threatening stance. He clenched his hand in an imitation of his brother, his own face turning stony. Madison had finally started her war.
“Madison told me how she came to you after our fight. After she told you she was letting you go for good, you kissed her.”
“And you believed her?” Will’s voice rose at the incredulity of Jon’s statement and his staunch belief that Madison, the same woman who had cheated wholeheartedly on Will, would be telling the truth.
“It’s more than obvious that you still love her.”
Will laughed, a cruel undertone curdling the sound. “I stopped loving her the moment I saw her wrapped around your dick. I saw her for what she was then—a liar and a whore.”
He’d known his words would have an effect. He hoped it would feel like a punch to the gut and wake Jon up from his blind love of a woman who didn’t know how to love him or possibly anyone. But when Jon’s fist connected with his face, Will was caught by surprise. He put a hand to his cheek. Nothing was broken, but it was still tender. He stepped back from his brother’s rage.
“You’re such an ungrateful pissant,” Jon said, also taking a step back. “I backed you with Grayson so you could get your seat on the board. We kept your stupid secret from Hannah. Madison even became her friend, fixed her knee, put her in our fucking wedding. Madison did everything you asked even though it hurt her. She felt we owed you after everything.”
“You do owe me, you asshole.” The words spilled from Will. “You stole my life.”
“Boys!” Jonathan’s sharp voice caught both of their attention.
Will came back to reality—they were doing this at Wellington Thorne, in a glass box. They knew better. But he didn’t care anymore. “You took everything from me,” he said, his voice rising. He grabbed Jon by the lapels and pushed him back against his desk.
“William,” Jonathan hissed.
Will ignored his father. He wasn’t hiding for the sake of the company or appearances—today or ever again.
“Madison and I were together for years. Years. You knew how I felt about her. You helped me pick out her engagement ring. And all the while, you were fucking her behind my back. And you’re not even sorry about it. Not once have you expressed one regret about throwing our entire relationship away. Did you ever stop to think what your affair would do to me? To us? To this family?”
Will glanced at his father, finding him stone-faced and immovable. He didn’t seem to care that his sons were in pain. He’d never cared for a second. Will turned back to his brother, whose anger had faded to a pain he was all too familiar with.
“I didn’t kiss your fiancée,” he said wanly. “She came to my room uninvited on our old anniversary and told me she still loved me. She ruined my marriage.”
Will’s voice rose on the last sentence, and as he reached for his brother to shake some sense into him, Jonathan stepped between them. “Now is not the time for this, William.”
Will shook his head. There would never be a time for it. Not in the Thorne family. They weathered the storm—they didn’t chase it. But this storm would never pass.
With a final withering look at his family, Will walked out of the office, stopping on the threshold for the briefest of moments. “Consider this my resignation.”
Chapter 43Hannah
Hannah watched her intern, Camila, skip down the street to her car from the window of her apartment. She’d never met anyone as happy as Camila, especially not someone who also loved emo and punk rock. But Camilla was like that every time Hannah had seen her in the few days since being officially hired. That morning, she had shown up with Starbucks in hand, having already memorized Hannah’s order. They had worked through lunch, trying to cover the top three finishers from the Battle of the Bands they’d attended the night before. Camila had taken the runner-up, her favorite of the three and a band she’d seen more than once around the city. Hannah had decided to let her off early to get her weekend started after all her hard work.
Once Camila reached her car, Hannah returned to her desk and opened a blank document. She checked the clock. It was nearing two in the afternoon. Hannah didn’t know the nap schedule at Riley’s house, but this seemed like the usual time. Still, she shot Riley a text just in case. God help anyone who called and woke the girls. Riley hadn’t left a message when she’d called during Camila’s interview. Camila was good—raw but talented. She’d be a great asset to Deafening Silence Boston if she wanted to stay on.
