“What? No. That’s not what I want,” she said, alarmed. He couldn’t mean he wanted to end things—to get divorced?
Hannah turned to face the ongoing photo shoot. Panic was setting in at Will’s words, but a portion of her mind still needed to pay attention to her crew. Everything seemed to be in order. No expense had been spared—thanks, Dad. She picked at the fruit she’d skimmed from the catering cart. Leonard didn’t have much of a rider, so they’d had to improvise. Fortunately, Hannah had read enough Wilderness Weekend interviews and attended enough shows to have gleaned some idea of Leonard’s foods of choice—at least she hoped. The shoot was wrapping up, and Leonard chatted with the photographer.
Hannah turned away from the scene, wishing there was somewhere more private to have this conversation. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I meant every word of our vows. And I’m afraid that the pact is all that’s keeping you in our relationship. You’re stuck with me for a year, and it helps pass the time if you’re in love with me. Added bonus that the sex is great.”
“You wrote that clause in the rules, not me,” she said, agitated. How could he throw that in her face?
“Exactly,” he said. “I wrote in that we could date. You wrote in that our friendship was the most important thing. I may have needed to get married to get my family to take me seriously, to save my career, but I chose you because for me, there was no one else. I chose you, Hannah. I need you to choose me now.”
Behind her, the sounds of equipment being put away grew louder. She stepped further away, noting that Leonard was still talking to the photographer. Choose Will? She’d chosen him when she’d suggested they share a bed. Then she’d almost turned down Boston for him. She’d even said she loved him first. “That’s not fair.”
“Maybe it’s not,” Will said softly. At least breaking her heart didn’t seem easy for him. “But this is your out. Choose me or don’t. The pact has been this safety net keeping us together, and if we’re going to have any chance of abiding by Rule 5, it needs to end.”
She hadn’t thought of the pact as a failsafe, not once. Falling in love negated the one-year clause—at least, it had for her. “Rule 5 was a pipe dream, Will! We were always either going to get divorced or fall in love.” Or both.
“I know that! Don’t you think I know that?” Agitation finally showed in his voice. He clearly hadn’t thought this through before calling her.
“You’re not making any sense.”
Will sighed heavily on the other end of the line, and Hannah knew his hair had to be mussed—she hoped he didn’t have any interviews today.
“‘If this doesn’t work out, I’ll have nowhere to go.’ That’s what you said. I know I came to you with the pact, but maybe I shouldn’t have. Maybe I should’ve just asked you on a date like a normal person. Most people don’t need to keep a second apartment in case things go wrong. They risk everything on the chance that it will work out. I need you to do that now, and the only way I’ll ever believe you want to be with me is if we end the pact.”
Hannah blinked back tears. Maybe he had thought it through. Maybe he was right. If they got rid of the safety net the pact afforded—that they wouldn’t be jerks, would stay friends, and would be married for one year—they would either catch each other, or they would fall. Would their fledgling relationship survive without the pact tying them together? Were their hearts enough?
“Okay,” she said quietly. “Let’s end the pact.”
Chapter 51Hannah
Hannah stared at the blank screen on her phone. Had that just happened? Will couldn’t have realized what day and time it was. He wouldn’t have knowingly called her during the biggest interview of her career. And yet she had picked up. Why the hell had she picked up? She forced the conversation out of her mind, straightened her shoulders, and tried to refocus her thoughts. Leonard Nulty was waiting for her. Literally.
“Everything okay?” He was also standing behind her.
Shit. Hannah whirled around, plastering a smile on her face. “Yes, of course. Sorry, that was my husband reminding me to get him an autograph.”
“Ah. Big fan?”
“We both are,” Hannah said. Maybe he hadn’t heard anything. She directed him toward a pair of couches where bottled water and wine waited on ice. “He introduced me to Wilderness, actually.”
Leonard squinted in concentration. It was a face she’d seen plenty of times on tour, but up close, it was completely different. “Let me guess. Your wedding song is... ‘Love Acts.’”
Hannah laughed. That would have most definitely been their song. “I wish.” She palmed her face. “It’s actually that new Ed Sheeran ballad, but I imagine under different circumstances, it would’ve been ‘Love Acts.’”
He raised his eyebrows. “Do tell.”
She shook her head—she shouldn’t be telling Leonard Nulty about her love life. “That’s a long story.”
“I love long stories.”
“I’m sure you do, but this interview is about you, not me,” she said, pointing her pen at him.
“Right, right. Ask away.” He sat back on the couch. His body language seemed open and relaxed.
“You haven’t given an exclusive or any long-form interviews in over two years.” Her hands shook as she spoke—Leonard wasn’t any other celebrity. He was her celebrity. She clasped her fingers, resting them on top of her notebook. “Why now?”
“I’m retiring.”
Holy shit. Another album, another tour, going solo—all of these she’d been prepared for. But retiring? The fangirl in her was screaming. Outwardly, she met his gaze with as professional an expression as she could manage. “Wow,” she said, letting out a breath. “That was hard to hear.”
He laughed softly. “I’m sure it was.”
“Why give this to Deafening?” The question was out of her mouth before she had a chance to think about it. It was a fair question, though hardly appropriate in this setting. News like this, even with his midlist career, was worthy of much bigger venues.
He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “When we first started, we went out to LA to hit it big. We played in God knows how many small venues and Battles of the Bands. We made no traction.” Hannah knew most of this, but she wasn’t about to stop him. “And then one night, Riley Anderson—hell, she was younger than me—interviewed us for Deafening Silence. I’d only ever seen that magazine on the windowsill of the old records store on Sunset, but Riley was the first person to interview us, and she kept at it. She found us again and again. She’s one of two journalists I trust.”
“Who’s the other?”
“My college roommate, Jackson Mendez.”
No freaking way. “The editor in chief of Talented.”
“The one and only. And I know your next question. Why not give this story to him, right?”
Hannah nodded.
