Chapter 16 Hannah
Hannah
“How do you know all this gossip?” I asked Teresa as she twisted more hair around her curling iron.
“Girl, women tell their stylists everything.
We're better than therapists," she said. "So anyway, Kate called off the wedding, but didn’t want to lose all her deposits, so she just,” Teresa released her free hand from the curling iron to make a handoff gesture, “gave her entire wedding to Grace, which is how they booked it on such short notice.
Including this morning's salon package.”
“So smart,” I said, watching in the mirror as she pinned the curl to my head in an intricate design well above my mechanical skill.
“But since she’s a bridesmaid… she now has to walk down the aisle of the wedding she called off. Can you imagine?”
“What a nightmare,” I murmured as a shudder went down my spine, relief that Sebastian and I never got close enough to get engaged. “Is she going alone?”
“That’s the best part,” Teresa said, picking up the hairspray and covering me in a thin layer of aerosol.
“Technically she’s going solo, but she got dropped off by the groom’s brother.
And you won’t believe who that is.” Teresa paused for dramatic effect, picking up the mascara as her own eyes went comically wide. “Dominic Martin.”
“The actor?” I shrieked. “From The Twelve?”
“Yes!” Teresa yelled, bending to apply one more layer of eye makeup.
“And you, lucky bitch, are going to this wedding and get to see it all play out firsthand. You have to tell me everything when you get home. Or…” she smirked, “Sometime tomorrow, because you’re spending the night with Captain Three-Piece. ”
“I’m just his plus-one,” I muttered.
“Right, of course.” Teresa raised her brow.
“But I know you can’t keep your hands off a man in a suit, and after he sees you looking like this?
There’s no way he can keep that stick up his ass.
Either way, I’m staying at Eddie’s tonight to give you the place.
Now get dressed already,” Teresa said, looking at the dresses laying across my bed. “You’re spiraling.”
“I’m not spiraling. I’m… selecting.”
“You’ve tried on four dresses.”
“Three.”
“Four, I can see the blue one behind you on the bed. Wear the green one, we Irish broads look great in green.”
I picked up the dress—Emerald green with a neckline that walked the line between elegant and suggestive. The kind of dress that said I’m fine, everything’s fine, I definitely didn’t drunk dial you three weeks ago and tell you I think about you constantly.
I hadn’t talked to Connor since my birthday, when I’d called him at midnight, too many drinks in, and said… god, I didn’t even remember everything I’d said. Something about missing him, wishing things were different. I woke up the next morning with the battery dead in my phone and my vibrator.
He’d texted. He didn’t mention the drunk dial—he was too considerate for that. Just casual check-ins.
Still on for the wedding?
Ceremony’s at four, pick you up at three?
I’d kept my responses brief. Yeah, see you then.
Because what else could I say? Actually, I meant every word of that drunk ramble… or the words I remember, anyway.
No. Better to get through the weekend, then let him go back to his life in New York.
I zipped the dress, checked my reflection. The green brought out the hazel in my eyes, and I looked like someone who had her life together.
In other words, I looked like a liar.
The knock came at 2:58 PM, because of course Connor would early. Teresa beat me to the door, and I heard his voice from the bathroom, the sound of his rolling suitcase. “Hi, Teresa. I wasn’t sure—”
“She’s finishing up. Want coffee?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
I took one last breath, grabbed my clutch, and walked out.
Connor stood in our tiny living room in a wool overcoat and cashmere scarf, like he’d stepped out of a Buzzfeed article titled “Men Who Will Break Your Heart For Christmas (and You’ll Ask Santa For Seconds).
” His hair was neat but not severe, and when he saw me, something in his expression made my stomach flip.
“Hi,” I said, because apparently that’s where my vocabulary had gone.
“Hi. You look…” He shook his head, like words weren’t adequate.
“You clean up okay yourself,” I managed.
Teresa made a sound that might have been a laugh or a cough, handing over my winter jacket. “You two are painful. Go. Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, which leaves you a lot of room.”
The walk to the Adelphi took eight minutes and felt both too long and not long enough. The December air was crisp but not bitter, and Connor’s hand found the small of my back beneath my jacket.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He exhaled, his breath visible in the cold air. “I should be asking you that.”
“Why?”
“I haven’t seen you in two months, and the last time we talked, you—”
“Drunk dialed you and said a bunch of embarrassing things I barely remember?” I forced lightness into my voice. “Yeah, sorry about that. Teresa’s friends are… a lot.”
“You don’t need to apologize.”
“Pretty sure I do.”
“You don’t.” He glanced at me, quick, before returning his eyes to the sidewalk ahead. “I’m glad you called.”
He paused as we reached a crosswalk, turning to face me fully. His gaze swept my face in a way that somehow felt like he was using telekinesis to check my blood pressure, and when I passed whatever the test was, his shoulders dropped, tension released.
“For the record,” Connor said quietly, “I don’t think anything you said was embarrassing. I thought it was honest.”
Despite everything, I smiled. That was why I’d called him that night. Because even when things felt impossible, Connor made me feel like maybe I wasn’t failing at everything.
“So,” I said with a hint of humor to disguise my nerves, “what are the odds Sebastian actually behaves himself tonight?”
Connor misstepped slightly. “Whatever he does, I’ve got you. That’s why I’m here, remember?”
“Right. Fake boyfriend.” The words tasted sour in my mouth. I wanted him to want to spend time with me, instead of just sticking it to my ex because he felt guilty that he’d stepped in.
The Adelphi rose before us, all Victorian elegance and winter grandeur. Through the windows, I could see people gathering, the warm glow of chandeliers against the December gray.
The ceremony space was breathtaking—rows of chairs draped in white, an aisle lined with pillar candles and winter greenery, everything elegant and hushed with anticipation.
We stopped at coat check and my mouth went dry when Connor shed his overcoat to reveal a full tuxedo, looking like a bespectacled Cary Grant.
If he was devastating in a regular suit, he was lethal in a tux. I hadn’t seen him in months, and I hadn’t been with anybody else in that time, so I’d showed up lonely, horny, and glad that my sister had tucked an emergency condom in my purse just in case my patience gave out.
“What?” he asked, catching me staring and fiddling with his cufflinks like an anxious James Bond.
“Um, your bow tie is crooked,” I lied, pretending to straighten it, unconsciously leaning into his warmth. He met my eyes, pupils dilating as—
“There you are, Connor,” the flustered wedding planner said, grabbing his lapel and pinning a boutonniere to his jacket. “The other groomsmen—”
“Groomspeople,” he corrected.
“—are in the side room getting ready.”
“Wait,” I said as she fluttered off to manage the next crisis. “You’re a groomsman?”
Connor looked uncomfortable. “They needed to balance the sides. It’s not a big deal.” He glanced around the filling room, then his expression softened. “Come on. Let me get you settled in.”
He led me toward the front rows on the groom’s side, where an elegant woman with silver-streaked blonde hair was already seated.
“Mrs. Clarke,” Connor said, and something in his voice made me look at him more closely. Affection, yes, but something almost like longing.
“Connor,” she said, standing and wrapping him in a hug. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Helen?”
“This is Hannah. Would you mind if she sat with you during the ceremony?”
I tensed. I didn’t know this family, I barely knew Connor. I definitely didn’t belong in the front row.
But Helen’s face lit up, patting the seat beside her. “Of course not! Any friend of Connor’s is more than welcome.”
“I’ll find you at cocktail hour, okay?” He dropped a kiss on my cheek, then disappeared toward a side door where other men in dark suits gathered.
I sat down, feeling off-balance. Connor hadn’t mentioned being a groomsman. Hadn’t mentioned being close enough to Alex that his mother knew him by name, spoke about him with that warmth reserved for people who were practically family.
“Connor never thinks he’s important enough to include, but Alex wouldn’t take no for an answer.
” Helen watched him go with obvious fondness.
“For all the years that they worked together in San Francisco, whenever I wanted an update, I didn’t bother calling Alex, just went straight to Connor.
He told me about all Alex’s projects and travel schedule.
On the rare chance Alex called, he talked about this brilliant paralegal who kept everyone organized, who saw problems before they became crises.
When Alex decided to move home to Saratoga last January, he said he couldn’t have gotten the new firm off the ground without Connor. ”
“He never told me that.”
“Of course he didn’t. And it wasn’t until Connor left with Victoria that Alex even realized just how much he relied on him.
I swear he was the glue that held Blackstone & Clarke together, and ever since he moved to New York for Victoria, Alex has been struggling to replace him.
You know he’s hired three people to do everything Connor handled, and Alex still complains that it’s not as good? ”
“That doesn’t surprise me at all, actually,” I said with a wry grin, which Helen returned.
“Connor doesn’t think his choices are remarkable.” She patted my hand. “But they are. And so is he.”
The music changed, signaling the ceremony was about to begin. Guests quieted, turning toward the back of the room where the bridesmaids were lining up, but I found myself watching the side door where the groomsmen would emerge, my heart beating faster than it should.
The officiant took his place at the front, followed by Alex, looking devastating in a perfectly tailored tux. Mrs. Clarke’s hand tightened in her lap as her son took his place at the altar.
Behind him walked…
My breath caught, as I saw an honest-to-goodness movie star. Dominic Martin’s tux looked so perfect, it belonged on the red carpet instead of a wedding ceremony.
Behind him came Victoria, in an incredible pant suit with a lace camisole peaking out from underneath. Then—
Connor. He walked with shoulders back, hands relaxed at his sides, looking professional and controlled. But as he took his place beside Alex, his eyes found mine.
Just for a second. Just long enough for something to pass between us.
Then his attention shifted over my shoulder, and I realized I’d been holding my breath as I turned to watch the procession.
A little girl came first, maybe five or six, practically bouncing down the aisle with adorable twirls and flourishes as she threw petals with reckless abandon.
When she got to the end of the aisle, Alex scooped her up with a joyful smile, then guided her to sit with an older woman on the bride’s side.
Then a bridesmaid stepped into the aisle, stopping my breath with her confident elegance. Her dress was black satin, floor-length, with a slit and a neckline that suggested she’d chosen defiance over tradition. She walked down that aisle like she owned it, chin up, shoulders back, utterly magnetic.
The whispers started immediately behind us.
“—can’t believe she’s here—”
“—supposed to be her wedding—”
“—called it off and now she’s—”
I glanced at Helen, saw her jaw tighten as she turned her head to silence the gossip.
My heart squeezed. That woman walking down the aisle toward her friend’s wedding, through the wreckage of her own canceled one, with her head held high—that took a kind of courage I wasn’t sure I possessed.
Kate took her place at the front, and I watched as the movie-star handsome Best Man couldn’t seem to look away from her. I glanced at Connor to see if he noticed and he lifted a brow. Whatever was going on between them, he’d seen it too.
Beside me, Helen’s breath hitched as the Maid of Honor started down the aisle, so obviously her daughter, followed by Grace, turning the corner with a man at her side that looked like he could be her twin—same height, same coloring, even the same dimples.
In fact, the more I stared, the more I realized maybe he probably was.
During the ceremony, Alex focused on Grace like they were the only two people in the world. But I found myself watching other things, like the way Connor’s hand twitched when the officiant said “for better or worse," and his breathing changed at “till death do us part.”
I’d assumed this would be easy for him, but something about this bothered him, and I couldn’t figure out what.
When Alex and Grace kissed and everyone applauded, Connor’s eyes found mine again. And in that brief moment before he looked away, I saw something raw there. Something that looked almost like grief.
As the newly married couple walked back down the aisle, the wedding party followed. Then he was gone, swept up in the recessional, and guests began standing, stretching, moving toward the cocktail hour.
“Would you like me to stay with you, dear?” Mrs. Clarke asked, gathering her things. “Connor will be tied up with photos for a bit.”
“I’ll be fine,” I assured her. “Really.”
“All right.” She patted my hand. “And Hannah? Whatever Connor’s working through—be patient with him. He’s worth it.”