When We're Thirty, Casey Dembowski [best reads of all time txt] 📗

“How did you know where I lived?” So much for tact.

”Oh, Kate told me.”

Crap. She’d completely forgotten to get Kate out of that date. “Give me my phone.”

He fumbled with the device sitting on the coffee table in front of him. “Look, I’m sorry if—”

“It’s not that.” Hannah took the phone from him, dialing Kate as fast as her fingers would allow. “I’m not angry that you have my address.”

The line rang and rang. Hannah kept her eyes on Will as Kate’s voicemail recording played. She was going to be so pissed. But right now, Hannah had her own situation to deal with.

She hung up and stared at Will. “You sent the carnations.”

“Yes,” he said in a tone that suggested she should’ve known this already.

“There wasn’t a card.”

“Well, it would’ve said, ‘Happy 30th Birthday, Abbott. I believe we have something to discuss. Winky-smiley face.’”

“Will.”

He placed the ring on the table between them. “I’m thirty; you’re thirty.”

She dropped into the chair next to him, staring at the giant sparkling rock he’d left sitting on her table. He couldn’t be serious. Heat rocketed up her neck and into her cheeks, but underneath, a hint of excitement brewed. Will Thorne had come to initiate the marriage pact.

Chapter 4Hannah

It had happened on graduation night, post-ceremony and post–celebratory dinners at the best eateries Iowa City had to offer. After depositing their families back at their respective hotels, Hannah, Will, Kate, and Trevor, Kate’s boyfriend, had met at the apartment the girls shared for one last night together. Kate and Trevor had disappeared after only an hour. Hannah hadn’t blamed them. She and Kate would be leaving the following day for a European summer—a trip Hannah had somehow convinced her parents to fund as a graduation gift. No being a camp counselor at Ardena Heat. No airing her lack of any real plans to her former classmates, who undoubtedly had jobs lined up and more than a fleeting hope of keeping them. Unlike Hannah, who hadn’t heard back from a single one of the New York City internships she applied to, including the coveted Talented internship. So, Europe it was—eight cities in eight weeks, giving her two months of blog posts to boost her writing portfolio.

With just the right amount of beer and taquitos in her stomach, Hannah’s mood balanced somewhere between relaxed and giggly. Will had reached his introspective stage, meaning he’d had one beer too many and not enough taquitos. He’d lamented the fact that Hannah would board a plane for Europe in the morning and was already waxing nostalgic about their college lives. In typical Will fashion, she didn’t have time to formulate a response before he was on to the next topic—the future. If there was anything Will didn’t need to worry about, it was the future. Hannah could picture his whole life—law school, junior partner by thirty, a smart, attractive wife and two kids he doted on. He would be happy; it was that simple.

She’d tuned back in to his ramblings. “What if I never meet the right woman? Never experience true love? Never—”

“You will,” she said, looking up at Will from her spot on the floor. She could hear the worries racking up and ricocheting in his head. She reached for his hand. “You will.”

“What if I’ve already met her and let her slip away?” His eyes were bright, his voice returning to its nostalgic tone.

She laughed. “Then I suggest you go find her and tell her before she leaves Iowa City.”

He sat up abruptly, and her hand slipped off of his. “See you later, then, Abbott.”

Her eyes widened. She could’ve sworn he was being rhetorical. “Somehow I don’t think this mystery girl would appreciate being told this in the wee hours of the morning.”

He slid off the couch and onto the floor beside her. His hand wrapped around hers.

“I guess you’re right. No one likes a drunk Will at two in the morning.”

Hannah patted his arm. “I like you just fine at two in the morning, drunk or otherwise.”

“Let’s make a pact,” he said, leaning his head on her shoulder. “If we’re both still single when we’re thirty, we’ll get married to each other.”

Hannah had learned the hard way that Will didn’t make pacts lightly. She had once made a pact with him on a whim and ended up spending spring break building houses in Mississippi instead of partying in Fort Lauderdale.

“But I already have you penciled in as my man of honor,” she said, nudging him with her shoulder.

He laughed. “I guarantee I will look much better in a tuxedo than a bridesmaid dress.”

“I don’t know.” She gave him a once-over. “Plum would look good on you.”

He turned to her, his expression playful. “Afraid to marry me, Abbott?”

She narrowed her eyes. He knew she liked a challenge. And there wasn’t really a downside to this pact. By thirty, she’d either be married already or she’d get to marry Will. He wasn’t bad to look at, and they had fun together. It could work.

“Fine. Let’s make a pact,” she said, holding out her pinky finger. Without a pinky promise, there was no pact. Rules were rules.

Instead of linking his pinky around hers, Will kissed her, soft and hesitant. He paused with his lips still on hers. They weren’t friends who kissed. Hannah felt her heart speed up, confusion and longing and relief mixing in her veins. She leaned into the kiss, letting him deepen it just so. There had been a time when this was all that she had wanted. Could it be that way again?

Will pulled away, fixing her with a grin. “I thought we should know what we’re signing up for.”

She rolled her eyes, her heart rate dropping down to a normal pace. Just Will being Will—that’s all. He pulled the sleeping bag over their legs. It was the two of them and the silence, and then she felt him link his pinky with hers—pact sealed.

“HANNAH?”

Hannah looked up from the