When We're Thirty by Casey Dembowski (beautiful books to read .TXT) 📕

hit the fan gloriously, or more likely, Will had told him the news on their ten-mile run.

Hannah and Will kept their hands hidden under the table. There would be no deflecting the gleam of their wedding rings or hiding the rock on her finger. She was just about to force down another sip of the household coffee—Madison making faces at her across the table—when the door swung open and Jonathan himself entered. It was such a formal entrance, she had to stop herself from standing as if he was a judge entering his courtroom.

It took about two seconds before Will’s father’s eyes landed on her. He took her measure in those seconds. She knew by the dismissive way he averted his eyes that she had been found lacking.

“Good morning,” he said, sitting down and pouring himself a cup of coffee. His eyes raked over each member of the Thorne family before landing squarely on her and Will. “And who is your lady companion, William?”

Will, to his credit, didn’t even hesitate. “Dad,” he said, thrusting their entwined hands toward the head of the table, a huge and convincing grin brightening his face, “this is my wife, Hannah.”

Despite working for a magazine called Deafening Silence for years, Hannah herself had rarely experienced the phenomenon. But there it was—the silence was screaming at the Thorne breakfast table. Jon, Madison, and Daniel collectively held their breaths, waiting to see Jonathan’s reaction to the marriage. The silence unnerved Hannah. In her house, there would be laughter or tears or yelling, or something. When Stephanie had arrived home engaged, their mother had laughed and then cried at her baby growing up. Their father had outright cried, shameless. But all Jonathan did was place his coffee cup back on its saucer.

He considered the two of them, then the rings, and then Hannah herself before his gaze finally settled back on his son. “Ah. Well, I see you did more on that little impromptu vacation than drink by the pool.”

Hannah laughed. It nearly echoed in the large space where no one else had said a word or even made a sound to Jonathan’s retort. She cut her laughter off, clearing her throat. Next to her, Will took a sip of water.

“I suppose congratulations are in order then,” Jonathan said. “Renata?” She was at Jonathan’s side in an instant. Hannah hadn’t even noticed her in the room. “Champagne. Unless... Hannah can’t partake?”

She felt Will stiffen beside her. Hannah turned a smile toward her father-in-law. “Champagne would be great.”

A nod from Jonathan sent Renata to the kitchen. Hannah hoped she was keeping notes—this family needed an unauthorized biography. But then the staff probably had confidentiality agreements.

“So, if I may,” Jonathan said, returning to his coffee, “why the rush?”

“It didn’t really feel like a rush to us, Dad,” Will said, reigning in their hands but keeping them front and center on the table. “Hannah and I were best friends in college. I’m sure you remember me talking about her.”

Jonathan nodded.

She cut a look at her new husband, disbelieving. Sure, her family knew who Will was in a cursory way—that “friend from college”—but this seemed more than that. Much more.

Keeping his eyes on his father, Will continued, “When we met again this summer, everything just fell into place. It was like, why had we wasted all these years fighting it? A perfect fit, like Mom used to say.” That was a new addition to the tale. “We didn’t want to steal the limelight from Jon and Madison’s wedding, and we didn’t want to wait when we knew we wanted to be together.”

The first somewhat real smile appeared on Jonathan’s stiff face. “You’ve always had your mother’s whimsy.” He turned his attention back to Hannah, the spark of curiosity clear on his face. “And what is it you do, Hannah?”

Telling people she was a journalist either elicited “wows”—the job had a built-in coolness factor, especially when her beat was alternative rock music—or came with an implied sympathetic shoulder squeeze for the trampling the industry had taken in the last decade. Sometimes both. But Jonathan did neither when she said she was an editor for a music magazine.

“Really?” he said, clasping his hands together. “William always did have a soft spot for the creatives. There was that writer in high school, the artist when you were at Columbia, and Melody—sweet girl—wasn’t she an aspiring singer?”

“Which magazine?” Daniel asked from across the table. No one but Jonathan had spoken for so long that Hannah had nearly forgotten they had an audience. Will was still tense beside her. She rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly. It was going to take more than innuendos and old girlfriends to ruffle her feathers.

“Deafening Silence New York,” she said. “I’m the Long Island section editor. There’s a pretty big alt rock scene out here, believe it or not. Plus, everyone still loves Taking Back Sunday.”

Will laughed and turned his attention to Jon, who was nodding enthusiastically. “Uh-oh, you just said the magic words.”

“Jon’s a huge fan,” Madison said, rolling her eyes. “It’s not quite at the level of William’s obsession with Wilderness, but seriously, I’m starting to think it’s hereditary.”

“Hey now,” Daniel said, pointing his finger accusingly at Madison.

They bickered some more, taking jabs at each other and laughing. Based on Will’s grim description of these weekends, she’d expected a family that hated each other’s company. But the brothers seemed at ease with each other. Even Will, whose shoulders had been near his ears since they arrived, had relaxed back in his chair. She studied their alliances, which were constantly shifting. Will and Daniel always seemed to come back to each other against Jon. But then that made sense. Jon was four years older than Will, making him six years older than Daniel. There was a point when he’d probably wanted little to do with his younger brothers. It had happened with Stephanie once Hannah had moved up to middle school in fifth grade.

Intentional or not, Daniel had