“Oh my goodness, you’re that singer aren’t you? My sister loves your music.” Meredith’s smile lit up her face, and Hanna found herself cataloguing all the reasons she hated beautiful American women.
“Ah, thanks. Are you a music fan?”
Meredith leaned forward and whispered, conspiratorially, “I don’t really listen to music at all.”
Hanna’s eyebrows shot up as if they were trying to merge with her hairline. She was trying not to look amused, but clearly failing. Her eyes automatically moved to look at Richard. As soon as he looked back at her, a grin broke out and Hanna found herself returning it.
God, it felt good.
Despite the band’s mediocrity, Hanna and Tom made an ironic attempt to dance. She collapsed in a fit of giggles when he started throwing himself all over the place in a parody of John Travolta, causing more than a few cell phone cameras to be turned to “video.” She couldn’t help but feel grateful to him, for supporting her at the wedding, for throwing himself under a bus to make her smile. He was a true friend.
Ruby joined them after a while. Wanting to give her at least something to talk about when she returned to university, Hanna gestured to them she was going to the bathroom, leaving Tom and Ruby performing an interesting rendition of the Macarena.
It was getting late, and the guests had thinned out. The bathroom was empty when Hanna walked in. It was elegantly decorated with guest towels and Molton Brown soap—no hand dryer and blue soap for guests at Chalkley Manor.
Rubbing hand lotion into her palms, she opened the door to walk outside, only to see Richard standing right there, his face serious, his lips thin. His brows were knitted together into a frown.
“Can I ask you something?” He gently pushed her back into the bathroom, and Hanna felt her heart beat faster at the sensation of his hand as it circled her wrist. They’d both been drinking all night, and she wondered if it was him, or the drink, talking.
“Yes.” It was the only reply that sprung to mind, and she breathed it out like her life depended on it.
“Are you and Tom fucking?”
Hearing him say it made her eyes fly wide open and her mouth drop. For a moment she felt angry, for his intrusion and his coarse language. But her face softened as she started to wonder his reasons for asking.
“No, we’re just friends.” She watched as relief washed over his face, and suddenly she felt angry again, knowing he had somebody new and she was all alone.
Even if it was her own fault.
“In fact, Richard, since you asked so nicely, I haven’t fucked anybody in three years.” The implication was there; he was the last man she had slept with.
He moved closer, so their bodies were inches apart, and she felt herself stiffen in reaction to his proximity. A tiny step forward and their chests would be touching. All she’d have to do would be to tip her head up and allow him to dip his down, until their lips met in an explosive kiss.
And she could guarantee it would be amazing. The way they were both br
eathing heavily, they were seconds away from acting on it.
“Why not?” His voice was strained, and she could see his hands curl into fists, as if he was trying to stop himself touching her.
Hanna hesitated. The answer was dancing on her lips, playing on her tongue, but to say it would be to let him know exactly how she felt about him. Was she ready for that?
She found herself leaning toward him, and though they were both fully clothed, she felt raw and exposed. His eyes searched hers, and she felt the need for honesty, to throw herself before him and admit what she’d done.
“Because it’s only ever been you.”
A flush crept up his face, and his expression changed from confusion to complete and utter rage. Hanna stepped back, fearing his response. He let out a furious growl before turning and slamming his fist into the mirror attached to the bathroom wall, making it shatter into jagged shards and fall over the basin and onto the tiled floor.
The seconds that passed seemed like hours as they were both glued to the spot, unable to move in the face of her revelation and his reaction. Richard was cradling his wrist, and Hanna moved to touch it, seeing blood beading at his knuckles, wanting to do something to take the pain away.
The physical pain, at least.
“You can’t do this.” Richard’s face was still feral. He unclasped his hand and moved it up to lift her chin. “You can’t come waltzing back into my life and tell me you only ever wanted me. Admit it’s a lie.”
Hanna shook her head, unwilling to answer his demand.
“Fuck it, Hanna. Sitting out in the ballroom is the girl I’ve asked to marry me, and she doesn’t have a goddamned clue what’s going on. Do you expect me to break her heart, the way you broke mine?”
“No.” The tears were flowing now, and she could feel them running down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”