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I stomped resentfully after him as he led the way to the restaurant entrance, my stomach churning with anger, betrayal, and something suspiciously like yearning—but I’d deny it in a court of law.
Hunter stopped me once we were out of hearing range. His mouth worked for a moment as if he couldn’t find the words, and then he said hurriedly: “I met Paige out in the lobby for the first time—I swear I didn’t realize until then it was supposed to be a date. Your mom made it sound like she was just inviting me to meet some members of the historical society.”
Relief washed through me sweet as spring wine, until I remembered that I had no right to feel it. “Oh.” I still felt dizzy, off-balance, like I’d been thrown from a horse. I wanted to grab onto him for support. Onto those strong, firm arms… “I see.”
But could I really trust this answer? Had he just been lying to me this whole time, was this just another lie?
“Good,” he said gruffly. “I’m glad that’s been cleared up.”
“Crystal clear.”
He leaned in a little closer. “Are you still…angry, with me?”
I looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “Why would I be?”
“No reason.”
I tried to pretend I didn’t hear the disappointment in his tone. I probably didn’t hear it. I was probably deluding myself. And even if I wasn’t, it didn’t matter, because even if that disappointment was there, which it wasn’t, I couldn’t allow myself to hear it. Couldn’t allow myself to get sucked right back into an infatuation that could never lead anywhere.
“So you’re not angry?” His voice was disbelieving.
“Of course not,” I lied through my teeth.
“Good,” he said, relieved. A slight hesitation, then: “Because…well, your sister is a remarkable young lady.”
The ground receded from under my feet at a remarkable place. “Ah.”
“And I would potentially, despite the false pretenses your mom got me here under, be interested in seeing her. Potentially.”
“Ah.” My pulse pounded in my ears, but my face was frozen in a panicked smile as my brain cycled through a series of vivid memories of Hunter and me together, failing to reconcile the connection I knew we’d both felt with the sister-chasing, cold-hearted swine standing nonchalantly before me.
“If that’s not a problem.”
“A problem.” I could hear my words coming from far away. They were coming out remarkably calm and well-formed, as if they were leaving the lips of someone who wasn’t trapped at the center of a spinning world. “Why would that be a problem?”
“It wouldn’t!” he said quickly. “After all, you made it clear that nothing was going to happen between us. That you’re not interested. That’s still the case?”
I kept my face resolutely still. “Nothing’s changed, Hunter. Nothing at all.”
“Alright. But you still seem…” He reached out towards my arm, then thought better of it, letting his hand hang above my bicep like an unresolved promise. Like a temptation, like the fruit of Tantalus, hanging over his head.
God, I wanted him to touch my arm.
“…kind of angry,” he finished. He shuffled his feet. “Is it Paige? That’s she’s your sister, is that too—” He waved his arms, unable to quite come up with an adjective that Paige might be too much of.
Paige was always the exact right amount of everything, pretty and sweet and demure. No wonder everyone preferred her to her wilder young sister. To me.
A lot of the time, I preferred her to me.
“Would you rather I didn’t date your sister?”
What would he do if I said yes? Would he just keep dating her, secure in the knowledge of just how much I wanted him? Or would he dump her, ruining her temporary happiness and bringing the sourness back into Mom’s voice, the disapproval back into her eyes, just so…what? We could pine for each other from afar?
The truth was useless to me. To him. To both of us.
So I lied.
“Of course I don’t mind you dating Paige,” I said, with a smile faker than a Rolex sold on a street corner. “I was surprised, is all. You can date her if you want. Knock yourself out. I fully approve.”
And with that I spun on my heel and strode back toward the dining room, head high, toward what would no doubt be a long, cozy dinner in my own personal hell.
#
“I wouldn’t want to disparage the chef, but his braised lamb with asparagus simply isn’t a patch on what Paige can do with the same ingredients—”
I decided to make an attempt to de-board the Paige Is Perfect in Every Way Train. “Oh hey, those dinner rolls look delicious, Mom, could you pass them?”
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