When We're Thirty Casey Dembowski (the chimp paradox .TXT) 📖

and Hannah. She hadn’t thought Will would be so direct, though there wasn’t really a subtle way to introduce your new wife to your family. Maybe it was better to just tear the Band-Aid off.

After another excruciatingly long exchange of confused looks, Jon cleared his throat and lifted himself from the sofa. He offered Madison a hand, and Hannah saw the silent conversation between them. With a what the hell shrug, Madison accepted his hand and allowed herself to be drawn to her feet.

And Madison was gorgeous—all dark waves and deep brown eyes and curves.

They came around the sofa and stopped in front of Will and Hannah. Will’s hand slid down Hannah’s back, and she had never been more grateful for his touch.

“Congratulations, little brother. Hannah, it’s a pleasure to meet you. William hasn’t told us a thing.” He grinned. “I suppose we’ll get the whole story in the morning? It must be intriguing.”

Hannah took Jon’s outstretched hand, glad he hadn’t gone in for a hug. She didn’t think she could bear it.

“This is my fiancée, Madison,” Jon said in his booming voice.

Madison dragged her eyes away from Will and met Hannah’s gaze. She took Hannah’s measure, though Hannah had no idea why. “What a surprise,” Madison finally said. “William never mentioned he was seeing someone.”

Hannah plastered on a smile to cover her nerves. “It was all kind of fast.”

The corners of Jon’s mouth quirked up, but he swallowed whatever he was going to say. Instead, he clasped Will on the back. “Congratulations, William. Really.”

Despite all the pleasantries, Hannah felt an undeniable awkwardness fill the room, both in the overly polite nature of Jon’s words and in the way Madison stared at her and Will’s intertwined hands. And then there was Will’s haughty smile.

Hannah yawned exaggeratedly. “Will, honey, can we head to bed? I’m wiped.”

Will tore his gaze away from Jon and Madison and kissed Hannah lightly on the temple. “Of course, Mrs. Thorne. Let me show you to our room.”

Chapter 19Hannah

Hannah rolled over, her arm sinking into the still-warm pillow on the other side of the bed. In the split second before her brain caught on, she wondered if Brian had already started the coffee. Then she opened her eyes to the opulence of the room. Will, the Hamptons, long-standing family feuds. Right.

“Good morning, Mrs. Thorne.”

Hannah glanced around the room. Barely any light was peeking through the slats of the blinds. “Is it even morning?”

“For those of us not accustomed to working until two in the morning, yes, it is.” He sat at the edge of the bed, his foot resting on the bedframe while he tied his sneakers. She scooted over toward him. All the hairs on her arm stood up as she brushed his. He hadn’t had this effect on her in a decade—why now? It was more important than ever that she keep it all in check. A year didn’t seem that long until she was stuck in an unhappy situation because she couldn’t keep her pants on.

Hannah peeked at his shoes, ignoring the thrum running through her veins. They were running sneakers—nice ones too. Brooks were not a casual runner’s shoe.

“You run?” she asked, jealous she hadn’t brought her own pair but at the same time knowing there was no way she could go very far.

His face brightened. “Yeah. Daniel got me into it. We get up before the ‘state of the union’ brunch and do ten miles. It’s a family weekend tradition.”

“Ten miles.” He definitely was not a casual or occasional runner to pull that off on a Saturday morning.

He touched her arm lightly, and Hannah felt it again—that spark between them. Did he feel it too? She wondered again if what she was feeling was real or simply a side effect of their forced proximity.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It seemed insensitive since you clearly miss it. But if you think you’re up for it?” he asked, wrapping his headphones around his neck.

She shook her head. This weekend was no time to push her knee past its limits.

“Okay, well, brunch starts at nine. There’s always coffee in the kitchen.”

“Is there a map?” She laughed, but truthfully, the last thing she needed was to run into Jonathan on her own. Because that wouldn’t be awkward or confusing.

Will stopped playing with his Forerunner watch and glanced over at her, his cheeks still pink but paired with an expression somewhere between bashful and sympathetic. “I can take you down there or bring you up a cup.”

She sat up, attempting to comb through her bedhead with her fingers. “What are the odds that I would run into, say, your father who has no idea I exist?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him to already know.” He strapped the watch to his wrist. “Though Jonathan sightings are rare before brunch.”

HANNAH FOUND HERSELF surrounded by stainless steel in a kitchen larger than her old apartment. On a large piece of butcher block acting as a table was a coffee setup and an oversized bowl of fruit salad. Off to the side covered in plastic wrap was a plate of English muffins and what looked to be orange marmalade.

Will picked the plate up. “Renata is too good to me.”

Renata, Hannah had learned, was the housekeeper, cook, and general head of the staff— a staff that had dwindled to just Renata and Jonathan’s assistant, Arthur, in recent years.

Hannah sat down on one of the stools surrounding the table. She popped a grape into her mouth as the scent of the coffee made its way through her system, awakening her mind. The smell brought back memories of stumbling into Starbucks half-asleep, waiting for that first batch to brew, the sun not yet up but the city still awake. This was no Starbucks coffee. The steam coming off her cup smelled bold and bitter, and she detected a hint of other flavors—vanilla, cinnamon, and possibly lemon. But she’d never been one for strong roasts. She’d trudged through the