Hannah. (Van Den Bosch #7)

Chapter 28

28

Hannah

Two weeks. Two weeks since Johan dismissed me from his presence, and I had to retreat back to my dorm room alone, feeling more miserable than I ever thought possible.

Ginger, the girl who offered me brandy the night I confronted Johan at his department, turns out to be a better friend than I expected. After the fiasco with Astrid, I refuse to let myself get too attached to anyone and keep Ginger and her group at arm’s length. Still, she’s welcoming and always makes room for me, extending invitations and saving me a seat when I’m late to whatever meetup they all plan. It’s a nice distraction. It makes me feel more like myself...like the way a fresher at Cambridge should feel.

Then there’s Astrid. I wasn’t lying when I told Johan she’d been trying to get a hold of me to help with the planning, but I don't have the heart actually to go through with it. Astrid offers lunches, dinners, and coffees, but I refuse them all for one reason or another. I give her my opinion on samples she sends me and pretend to be excited over text about the upcoming celebration, but that’s as far as I will go. I could ruin everything for the two of them if I wanted, but I don’t think it will make me feel any better. It won’t get me Johan back, and it’ll just paint me as a vindictive, obsessive fling. My heart just can't take that.

I just force myself to keep moving forward. What else is there to do? I want Johan more than my next breath, but I can't have him, so all I can do is keep breathing.

Ginger and her friends are going stargazing, which I know is code for drinking in a field while pretending to look at stars, but I have other plans tonight—another date with Conrad.

I didn't want to accept when he first offered, but Ginger saw the text and almost lost her mind with excitement. Conrad is undoubtedly a catch, and if Johan wasn’t in the picture, I might be able to actually feel some interest in him. Ginger never asked who broke my heart, but it’s clear that she knows I’ve been through something rough romantically. It’s why she pushed me so hard to meet up with Conrad despite my better judgment.

“If it makes you feel better, tell him you'll go as friends,” she insisted. “But you’re never going to feel better until you put yourself out there again. Think of it this way—you and Conrad already know each other pretty well. It’d be way more awkward with someone you don’t know.”

I agreed, both with her and to the date with Conrad, and now I have a few hours to unwind after school and get ready. On the way up, I grab my mail, tucking it under my arms until I’m inside my room. There isn't much—a postcard from Andries and Roxanne from their latest vacation, a menu from a local takeout place, and one much thicker envelope that gives me pause. Something about it makes my stomach flip.

I throw the other two pieces of mail on my desk and look over the thick envelope. It’s a warm cream color, textured, with my name and address written in lovely, flowing calligraphy. In the corner are Astrid and Johan’s names. With shaky hands, I run a fingernail under the seal and slide the card-stock contents into my hand, reading it with my heart in my throat.

It’s an engagement party invitation from the Viscount and Viscountess Goschen.

All the air leaves my lungs.

Fuck. They've done it. They've sent out the invitations.

The engagement is real. Johan is really going to officialize it to the world.

My hand flies to my mouth, bile rising in the back of my throat. I’ve avoided thinking about this, refusing to even acknowledge that this day was coming, but now the proof is in my hands.

I throw the invitation on my bed and stumble into the bathroom, tears filling my eyes. No, no, no. This wasn't supposed to happen. Johan was supposed to come to his senses. We were supposed to get our happily ever after. But that isn’t going to happen, and now all I can do is fall apart.

My tears won’t stop pouring down my cheeks until I’m gasping for air. Logically, I knew this was happening, but getting an invitation to the damned engagement party makes it so much more real. It takes some time to get a hold of myself, and I wash my face before collapsing on my bed and letting myself rest. I lay there for over an hour, trying to get used to this reality. My stomach aches, my head throbs, and my chest is sore from my heart breaking all over again. All I can do is stare at the invitation, mocking me on the pillow. This is really the end.

Yet, the minutes are still passing, and life goes on. I have a date tonight to get ready for, and I'll be damned if I let Johan and Astrid make me waste any more time wallowing in my self-pity. Feeling empty but resolute, I finally get out of bed and, with only twenty minutes to spare, get myself ready to go.

Conrad is waiting for me at the pub, and when I arrive, he’s already got a table and a drink. He rises to his feet when he sees me, a smile on his handsome face. He pulls my chair out for me, pressing a friendly kiss to each cheek, and once I’m settled in, offers me his drink.

“I didn't know what you liked, so this is a peach mojito. I figured it’s a good starter option.”

I accept the drink, giving him a tentative smile. “Thank you.”

We order food and make small talk, the drinks and the atmosphere putting me more at ease than I thought possible. Maybe Ginger was right, and this is exactly what I need to start moving on. Conrad is handsome and charming, and by the time our entrees come, the two of us are laughing together easily.

“I can’t believe you stole the prof’s tie and just ran,” I laugh at his story, sipping at my third drink, the alcohol warming my blood. “You sound like you were an absolute menace as a fresher. I’m surprised they let you stay.”

“Oh, the dean threatened expulsion, but my grandfather managed to convince him otherwise.” Conrad grins, his dark hair flopping into his eyes. “Honestly, I probably wouldn't be here now without him. It didn’t hurt that my best friend always got my back, either.”

He’s talking about Johan, of course. Just like that, my good mood threatens to wither away, but I refuse to let that happen. This is an opportunity to get some information, anyway, and maybe Conrad can help me with the agonizing decision of whether to go to this sham of an engagement party or not.

“Speaking of your bestie…” I run a finger around the rim of my drink glass absentmindedly, trying to portray a level of casualness that I don't feel. “Did you also receive an invitation in the mail today?”

“Hm?” Conrad looks up from his plate, recognition dawning. “Ah, you mean the engagement party. Yes. Mine came in yesterday.”

I wonder if that means they hesitated to send me one. “Part of me is still shocked they’re going through with it.”

Conrad's expression softens, and he reaches across the table to take my free hand. I resist the urge to pull away. “I know it's hard to understand, but like I told you before, this is the best option for both of their families. This is what is best for him.”

There’s logic in what he’s saying, but I’m well past being logical about all of this. “You can say that a million times and it still isn’t going to make a lot of sense to me, Conrad.”

“Things are different in the Netherlands?”

I consider the generations of unapproved matches that endured because of love—Andries and Roxanne, Mom and Dad, my uncle and his wife in America—and shrug. “Yes and no. Parents are always trying to make the right matches for their children, but I guess we’re quite a bit more stubborn because it seems once we have our hearts set on someone, nothing can stop us.”

“From what I know of you, stubborn sounds about right.” Conrad's tone is light. There's plenty of room for this conversation to descend into dark, heavy places, but I have a feeling he’s trying his best to avoid that. “But speaking of their party, would you like to come with me? I’d love to have you on my arm.”

There’s a lot left unsaid in that question. I know he’s really saying I know how awkward this would be for you to attend on your own , and his concern is sweet. Johan is his best friend, and he still has room to be worried about me. It’d be much easier to skip the party altogether, but there is a twisted part of me that wants to show up in my most fitted dress, looking immaculate and hanging all over Conrad like he’s the most gorgeous and desirable man in the world. If Johan feels even an ounce of jealousy, it will be worth it.

But then I look at Conrad’s caring, honest face and dial my revenge fantasies back a little. Maybe less hanging all over him and more treating him with the respect he deserves. After all, he didn’t do anything wrong. And I’m sure he’ll be a lovely date.

I can still look incredible, though. Having Johan see me with another man while looking as enticing as possible is revenge enough.

“You’re quiet,” Conrad points out, interrupting my thoughts. “I get the feeling you don’t want to go. But there's no one I’d rather have as my plus one.”

It’s the final push I need. It might break my heart to go, but I won’t give Johan the satisfaction of thinking I was too afraid to attend. “Okay, yes. I'll go with you.”

Conrad’s grin is dazzling. “Wonderful. It'll be a night to remember.”

I hope so, one way or the other.

After dinner, Conrad insists on escorting me all the way back to my dorm. Ginger and some of the other student residents are in the common room and give me discreet thumbs up when Conrad's back is turned. They'll be sorely disappointed when he comes back down alone because his adventure is going to stop at my door whether he likes it or not. I’m in no headspace to let him into my dorm. Not that I think he would be pushy, but I don't want to give him the wrong idea, either.

We stop in front of my door, my back to it, so Conrad knows exactly where his stopping point is. “Thank you for the lovely time, Conrad. I really needed it.”

“Anytime. Truly. It’s the least I could do after everything you’ve been through.” His gaze is searching, and for a moment, I worry he’s going to ask about the details of my relationship with Johan. Does he suspect anything?

He doesn’t, instead opting for a polite, friendly smile. “I’m very much looking forward to taking you to the party. If there’s anything you need, please let me know. I'll be happy to assist in whatever way I can.”

“Just let me know if there is any certain color you’re wearing so we don’t clash too terribly. No bright orange or yellow suits, please,” I joke with a smile.

“Deal. Though, I’m sure you’d look stunning no matter what.”

The compliment is innocent, but it makes me blush all the same. “Goodnight, Conrad.”

He lifts my hand and kisses it, lingering for a fraction of a second longer than appropriate. “Sweet dreams, Hannah.”

I watch him turn around and walk a few steps away. Taking a deep breath, a sudden urge forms in the back of my mind, causing me to call out to him, “Conrad?”

He stops and turns on his heel, curiosity etched on his face. I walk towards him, stop in front of him, and lean in to give him a long, tender kiss on the cheek. “Thank you so much for everything.”

Conrad looks stunned but takes it well, simply nodding in appreciation while maintaining his composed demeanor.

“Sleep well, Hannah.” He leaves the building without making any further advances, which only deepens my respect for him.

Well, I made it through the date. I’m moving on with my life. And now, I’m attending the party with a proper escort. Johan must know that Conrad is interested in me, and anything I can do to twist the knife a little more gives me a dark thrill of satisfaction.

Inside, I drop my bag by the door and kick my shoes off, planning to spend the rest of the evening relaxing when I hear my phone chime. I assume it's Ginger telling me they're leaving for stargazing, but when I pull the device out of my pocket, I have a message from an unknown number instead. The anonymous sender's message is short and to the point.

Unknown: Fellow's Garden at Clare College in 45 minutes. Come alone.

This time, when the thrill zips through me, it isn't a thrill of revenge—it’s anticipation. Because who else would want to meet me in private in a nearby garden except for Johan?

With my heart pounding, I swiftly grab my things, pull my shoes back on, and run out the door. Maybe…just maybe…he’s finally come to his senses.

The garden is empty, and the only sound is the gentle rustle of the trees in the wind. Fellow's Garden is well-lit, but the center of the path is still obscured by shadow. It’s a cloudless, starry evening, but I hardly have time to admire the beauty of the clear sky.

My nerves are completely fried, and as I wait for Johan, I pace back and forth, trying to calm my racing heart. Johan asked me to meet him—that means something, right? But what if it isn't him, and I’m naively walking into some trap or prank? I hold my bag tighter to my body and send a quick message to the number.

Hannah: I’m here. Is this Johan?

They acknowledge me but don't answer the question.

Unknown: Come to the green bench by the trees.

Green bench by the trees…that seems easy enough to find, and it's near the far gate of the garden, shrouded in darkness. The unknown texter wants privacy, and I’m more than willing to give it to them.

The path is lit with warm lantern lights, and the closer I get to the trees, the more nervous I become. It’s been two weeks since the last time I saw Johan and only hours since I received the invitation. He's never reached out to me like this before—but then, things have changed. As I step closer, I prepare myself for whatever the future holds.

Standing in the middle of the garden, facing away from me, is a figure. A female figure. Suddenly, all of my hopes of a romantic reconciliation deflate. Of course, it isn't him. What was I thinking?

But I’ve come this far, and whoever is standing there is still here to see me. I might as well follow through. Slowly, I walk forward, the short heel of my shoes echoing on the pavement. The person in front of me is about my height—tall for a woman, but not overly so—and when she shifts, and the moonlight hits her shoulder-length hair, I can see it's iron gray.

She hears me and turns, her fitted khaki trench coat blowing in the breeze as she does. She's about two feet away from me now, and even in the dark, her face is hauntingly familiar. She looks so much like Oma Margaret that it steals my breath.

“Hello, darling niece,” Aunt Amelia says, her lips tilting in a smile. “It’s great finally meeting you.”

THE STORY CONTINUES IN JOHAN.