Over the years, Eli had tolerated my friendship with Hunter. Probably because Hunter was rarely without a girlfriend, and we’d all known each other since kindergarten. Sometimes I wondered how I ended up married to Eli, but then I’d come home from therapy and remember that all my problems began when my dad cheated on my mom and left us. Needless to say, I had issues.
“Yeah, then you took me home and went back to kick his ass. We were always fighting about something. God, I should have never married him,” I muttered. Eli was the biggest mistake I’d ever made. But I couldn’t bring myself to regret it too much since the three loves of my life were the result of our marriage. My children made the entire fiasco worth it. Noah, Lark, and Briar were my heart.
Hunter sent me a look filled with sympathy, and I looked away. Then he tightened a random bolt with a tool I didn’t even see him pull out of his pocket. “So is it weird if I say happy early birthday?” he said out of nowhere.
“Huh?” I narrowed my eyes. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing. Just pointing out that you’re single. I’m single. And we had a deal. Remember?”
“Oh my god.” The memory slammed into my head like a thunderbolt.
“We were going to get married at forty if we were both unattached,” he said casually, stepping down off the stool and wiping his hands on his jeans. “And I turn forty tomorrow.”
“It was a joke,” I sputtered.
“Sounded more like a pact to me,” he shot back, along with a grin.
“Well, I used to think tequila counted as hydration, and I married a jackass. We were dumb teenagers back then.”
He shrugged. “You still drink tequila.”
I threw my arms out to the sides. “Exactly my point. I never learn, Hunter.”
He laughed, and I loved hearing it, like a warm patch of sun breaking through the clouds.
“You’ve still got it, you know.” He was more serious now. “That prom queen thing.”
“Thanks. Maybe I do, but I don’t want it anymore. It caused me nothing but trouble.”
His voice dropped. “Have dinner with me, Paige.” We met eyes. His were earnest. And I knew mine were completely confused. He quickly looked away. “I mean for our birthday. No big deal.”
The room went quiet—just the soft buzz of the appliances and the distant sounds of the fall night outside the windows.
Was he asking me out? Like on a date?
My sisters would love it if I went out with him. Since my divorce, they’d been hinting that I should go out with him. But I immediately rejected the thought. He had to be kidding. Or it was just a birthday thing like he’d said.
But was it?
“You’ve lost your mind. And we don’t even have the same birthday?—”
“Maybe I have lost my mind.” He cut me off and stepped closer, but not close enough to touch. “But it’s just dinner. Nothing more. Think about it. It could be fun.”
“Okay…” I whispered. “I’ll think about it.” I blinked away whatever emotion was threatening to claw up my throat. “I need to lock up and get home to the girls.”
“I’ll walk you out.” As I reached my car, fumbling in my bag for the keys, Hunter stepped forward and gently took them from my hand before I could protest. “Let me help you,” he said quietly, unlocking the door and holding it open. I felt a sudden heat rush to my cheeks, flustered not just by the gesture but by how easy he made it all seem. I mumbled a thank you, trying to disguise my awkwardness as I slid into the driver’s seat, aware of his watchful eyes and the way my heart fluttered unexpectedly.
He didn’t say more. Just waited for me to start the car, waving goodbye as I took off.
I drove through the quiet streets in a haze, turning his words over and over in my mind. Honeybrook Hollow at night was a patchwork of sleepy porches, with their lights glowing golden in the dark, and tidy lawns scattered with fallen leaves that whispered across the pavement in the breeze.
Sycamore Street—the main drag through town—was mostly dark, except for the neon sign flickering pink in the window of Something Sweet, my sister’s bakery, and the corner store’s open sign buzzing faintly. I passed the library, its stone lions watching over the square, and the town hall with its clock stuck forever at eight-fifteen. It was the kind of small town where nothing really changed, but tonight, everything felt tilted, off kilter.
I barely noticed the turns as I headed home, headlights sweeping past familiar mailboxes and picket fences. The stillness wrapped around me like a scarf, tight around my neck. Somehow, it made my thoughts louder, as my head throbbed, echoing questions I didn’t have answers for.
Something was off with Hunter tonight. Asking me to dinner was not part of our usual script. I brushed it off. He probably felt sorry for me because of the divorce.
As I pulled into my driveway, the porch light cast a gentle glow across the cracked path, illuminating the jumble of rain boots left on the porch by the girls earlier. The house was quiet from the outside, the kind of silence that suggested tired children were asleep just inside. Sitting in the car for a moment, I took a deep breath. My confusion hadn’t faded, but as I looked at the warm glow spilling from behind the curtains, a little sense of calm settled in.
