“Do I even want to know?” His voice was grim, but one corner of his mouth kept quirking up as he fought back a grin. Daniel was always one for the underdog.
“Probably not, though all will be revealed at our next family weekend.” The weight of that sentence hit Will as he said it. The next family weekend was in two weeks—barely enough time to be settled into a routine, nonetheless proficient in love. Not that pretending to be in love with Hannah would be hard, but his family would know all the right questions to pick apart the situation.
Daniel stared at his phone as a series of large bells sounded. It was obnoxious, which was probably why Daniel had picked it. There was no way to miss those bells.
“Well, great. Something to look forward to then,” Daniel said, pocketing his phone. The determined look in his eyes made it clear his mind was already back in the hospital. He stood, the to-go container in hand and not even a bite out of his sandwich. “That was the ICU. See you soon, big brother... and don’t do anything too stupid.”
Will grinned up at him. “Never too stupid.”
Chapter 11Hannah
She scrolled through Will’s profile again, double-checking their mutual friends—thirty out of fifty-two. His page was active, with most of those thirty mutual friends being fraternity brothers and other college acquaintances, and the timeline for the new account worked out based on the demise of Will’s last relationship. They’d broken up, and it had been awful. He’d regrouped. Somehow Hannah had made the cut, and she was going to be his wife. She rummaged around her desk for the last Hershey’s Kiss. She’d brought in five from the kitchen, but she couldn’t find the last one, hidden in the mess of papers. Her hand alighted instead on their freshly signed marriage license. It had been processed at 4:37 p.m.—meaning by five o’clock tomorrow evening, she could be married. She probably should’ve vetted him before signing the marriage license. Too late now.
Hannah picked up the license again. William Anderson Thorne and Hannah Grace Abbott, Expected Wedding Date: October 16.
Married. They’d have to send something to the alumni magazine.
Social media made getting a marriage license seem more romantic. Signing the license and making sure it was at the ceremony was the final step in the long process of wedding planning. No license, no wedding—no exceptions. How many times had Stephanie’s officiant said that? Couples posted the obligatory town-hall picture hashtagged with their unique wedding name, a countdown to the event, and big dopey smiles on their faces. It was actually one of the parts Hannah always thought she’d look forward to—the moment when it was all officially happening, state sanctioned and everything.
Will had made them take the cheesy picture, but they couldn’t exactly post it anywhere. And the process hadn’t been romantic at all. A bored older woman had asked them a series of monotone questions, never once bothering to inquire about their story or why they’d waited so long to get the license if the big day was tomorrow. If Hannah spent most of her days with giddy soon-to-be-married couples, she supposed the excitement would wear off too. It was probably the forced or shotgun weddings that caught that lady’s interest, where she could concoct stories about the fighting couple or the pregnant woman and her scared-shitless guy—Hannah couldn’t be the only one who did that.
Hannah’s fingers finally unearthed the last Hershey’s Kiss. She savored the slow melt of the chocolate, the sugar providing the necessary boost of energy to bolster her confidence for the final task. It was time to go see Kate.
LESS THAN TEN MINUTES later, Hannah stood outside Kate’s door. Kate hadn’t answered her call on the way over, but she’d given Kate more than enough space. She knocked, shifting her ring so it was centered on her finger. Will had gotten surprisingly close to her ring size, but it wasn’t exact.
Kate opened the door, her cell phone tucked between her ear and her shoulder. She rolled her eyes at Hannah’s presence but stood back enough to let her in.
Hannah held out her hand, engagement ring flashing. “I’m marrying Will tomorrow.”
“Patrick, I’m going to have to call you back.” Kate ended her call and took Hannah’s hand in her own. “Explain now.”
“Patrick?” Hannah said instead. “Isn’t he the Herpes?”
Kate shook her head. “Him being a Herpes wasn’t the problem. I repeat, explain now.”
Hannah ran through the last few days at lightning speed— the pact, Will’s sudden appearance with a ring, breaking up with Brian, and her decision to marry Will benefitting both of them. Three days ago, Kate would’ve tried to talk her out of it. But when Hannah held up the signed marriage license, Kate only sighed, shook her head, and declared they needed wine.
“You think I’m making a mistake,” Hannah said when Kate returned with two glasses of Malbec.
“Yes, I do,” Kate said, her eyes going from Hannah’s face to the ring on Hannah’s finger. “I also think it’s a mistake both you and Will need to make.”
Hannah took a sip of her wine. “Meaning?”
“You and Will spent so much time talking—I mean, you two talked about everything and absolutely nothing. You never told him sophomore year when you liked him. And it was hard for you. I know it was because I was there all the nights you cried.”
Hannah couldn’t argue that point. She had fallen hard for Will when he’d transferred to U of I. She’d spent months forcing herself to bury those feelings as he went on to date Ana and Eva and Lilly and so on. So she’d dated, too, until eventually, the universe had given her her own love story.
“Will was so clueless about the whole thing. When he finally saw you—”
“When he what?”
“Twenty-two-year-old boys don’t just make marriage pacts.”
Hannah disagreed—marriage pacts were basically created by scared twenty-somethings.
“I think that maybe this marriage isn’t
