Hannah met his gaze, her eyes wide and full of hurt. “But what if he’s not?”
“Well, I guess then you would know.”
Chapter 33Hannah
It was Christmas morning. At home, it had always smelled of the cookies they spent Christmas Eve baking. She’d never had a Christmas morning in her own apartment, and that was still the case. The Thornes’ mansion didn’t smell like cookies. From this side of the house, it didn’t even smell like pine needles. And there were trees—three of them. Will had said they congregated at the one in the den, which made sense since the den seemed to be the life of the mansion. The tree was a beautiful Douglas fir, decorated in a silver-and-blue color scheme. It looked like it had fallen out of Pinterest. Still, it would’ve been nice to be at their own place, watching the Yule log, making out under the tree, and opening presents while forcing Binx to wear the Christmas sweater she’d bought him. Maybe next year.
True to his tradition, the boys had stayed up drinking and telling stories. She and Madison had taken the opportunity to exchange gifts since Jonathan had made it quite clear this was a men-only tradition. Will had stumbled in—weary with exhaustion, not intoxication—well after midnight. He’d smelled like old expensive whiskey, but his eyes were steady and his words clear as he crawled into bed beside her. She’d barely tucked her book away before he was asleep, his head on the pillow next to her, his arm slung across her chest. That was exactly how he’d remained all night.
It was early, and she suspected that the rest of the Thorne brethren would sleep in for at least a few more hours. But Hannah and Will had a mission to complete. She nudged him, but he only rolled over with a groan, taking the comforter with him.
She kissed him lightly. “Time to get up.”
His eyes fluttered open and he smiled. “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Thorne.”
“Ready?”
“Two more minutes?”
“Okay, but only two. I told Renata we’d be down by eight to get started.”
Twenty minutes later, they stood in the kitchen. She was dressed in her morning worst with her hair clipped back in a loose half ponytail. Will had pulled a shirt on over his pajamas but otherwise looked like he’d rolled right out of bed. Renata dug items out of the fridge as Hannah eyed the coffeepot warily. She’d forgotten to smuggle in her own coffee grounds, and even if that little shop was open, Hannah had a strict no-shopping rule on Christmas, especially after so many years as a barista. If there was ever a day she could make her own coffee, it was Christmas.
“Stop glaring at the pot like that,” Renata said from behind a stack of ingredients.
Hannah looked up from the text message she was composing. Will had suggested she start with her dad. A simple Merry Christmas seemed the easiest way in. She hit Send before pulling a mug down from the cabinet. “How do you drink it every day?”
Renata’s laugh echoed off the vast stainless steel. “Pour a cup and see for yourself.”
She didn’t even have to pour the coffee. The mild and smooth smell of hazelnut hit her nostrils. “What did you do?”
“Rebels come in all shapes, my dear,” she said with a grin.
“All this time, Renata?” Will asked, holding a hand to his heart in mock shock.
Hannah giggled and poured them each a cup. No matter what he said, she knew Will didn’t actually like his father’s coffee of choice. His cup always went back to the kitchen mostly full.
“Now, tell me what we are doing with all of this,” Renata said, though the glint in her eye hinted that she knew.
Laid out in front of them were the makings of the best French toast assembly line ever. Though she might be biased.
“Will’s most familiar with the recipe,” Hannah said, taking an apron from Renata. Will was already tying one around his waist. “And I can’t make French toast to save my life, so I figured Will can dip or dredge or whatever, you can cook, and I’ll sprinkle powdered sugar on top.”
“I see your evil plan,” Will said, looping an arm around her waist. “Make me and Renata do all the work while you get to make everything look pretty.”
She nodded and took her place at the end of the production line. “Sugar and then cinnamon, right?”
“Yes, Abbott,” Will said, sticking the first piece of bread into the mixture with a grin.
A half dozen slices later, Will sent a bemused Arthur off to wake up the rest of the house. Arthur seemed so stiff when she had first met him, but his face lit up as he watched them make a mess of the kitchen. He’d even tried the first piece, given his nod of approval, and stolen a cup of Renata’s coffee with a wink in Hannah’s direction. Had Will known this side of the staff before that morning? Did anyone in the house?
They were nearly done when the kitchen door swung open. It was too soon to be Arthur returning from waking the rest of the household. She and Will turned at the same time, passing a dish towel between them to dry their hands.
Daniel stood in the doorway, still in scrubs. Bags ringed his eyes, and he had a sort of wired look about him. He must’ve had an overnight shift and come straight from work. “What’s this?”
“How much coffee have you had?” Hannah asked, handing him a plate.
“Not that much, actually,” he said, flipping a piece of French toast onto his plate. “Mom’s Christmas French toast?”
Will nodded with an easy smile. “Yeah. It just felt like time to bring it back.”
The kitchen door opened again, and Jon and Madison entered, chattering about being summoned to the kitchen. They froze once inside, taking in the trays of French toast, fruit salad, and the platter of
