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“Hot for Hunter sounds like an ad campaign for a new men’s cologne.” I snort, hoping she drops it.
“Hell, it should be!” She chuckles. “The man always smells so damn good.”
So much for dropping it.
“Well, we were just going to go through our notecards again, and I need to finish packing.” My stomach growls. “And apparently the baby’s hungry again.”
“Okay, fine. Go feed my niece or nephew and please text me when you can. I’m going to be a nervous wreck waiting to hear from you,” she pleads.
“I will, promise! Everything okay over there?” I quickly ask. “Are you avoiding Hurricane Carter?”
“Yes and no.” She groans. “I’m ready to dick punch him, cut it off, then serve it on a platter to Maria.”
“That’s…graphic.” I snicker. “Well, good luck. If you want to stay here while we’re gone, I can leave you a key.”
“Ooh, maybe. I’ll let you know.”
Minutes later, we end the call, but I need a moment to get myself together before going back to Hunter. Sophie’s words linger in my head, my heart races, and I’m nervous about facing him after what she said.
This is all just pretend, I remind myself.
Once I’m good, I walk into the living room with a smile plastered on my face. I grab the notecards from the kitchen table, then sit on the couch next to him, hoping he doesn’t notice my awkwardness.
“Where did I grow up?” I ask, keeping my eyes down.
He answers right.
“What school did I graduate from?”
Right again.
“What’s the name of the church where my father preaches?”
Right once again.
I ask him at least twenty more—a mix of childhood questions to more recent stuff—and he answers all correctly without pause.
“What’s my favorite color?” I ask randomly though it wasn’t written down in the cards. He’s just so on top of his game, I want to throw a wrench his way.
“Yellow,” he answers, not as confident as before.
“Why do you say that?” It’s a trick question anyway since I don’t have one.
Hunter shrugs one shoulder. “You just remind me of sunshine, so I thought yellow suited you best.”
“I do? How come?” I ask, genuinely interested.
He shakes his head just the slightest, twisting his lips almost as if he wished he hadn’t said anything, but I’m too curious to let him off the hook, so I anxiously wait.
“Well, when you weren’t scowling at me, you were always laughing and smiling, singing and dancing around. You were the epitome of a ray of sunshine, lighting up every room you walked into. It wasn’t hard to notice, I guess.” I hear the vulnerability in his tone as our eyes stay locked.
“Wow…” I say, blinking. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” I think yellow just became my favorite.
Before he can respond, my stomach growls…loudly.
His brows pinch together as he laughs. “Was that you?”
“Yeah. Apparently, breakfast wasn’t enough.” I blush.
“Good time to take a break then. I think I have your notecards memorized anyway.” Hunter wipes his palms down his jeans, then stands. “Want me to make you an early lunch?”
“How about you let me make you something for a change?” I grab his arm and pull him back to face me. “Seriously, I can.”
“Uh, sure. I was just trying to help.” He thrusts his hands into his front pockets. “Actually, I’m not super hungry, so I’ll pass this time. I’m gonna hit the gym for a couple of hours since I’m all packed.” Hunter is tense, and I wish I knew what he was really thinking.
“Oh, um, okay. I’m just about done too, so maybe I’ll take a nap after I eat.”
We stare awkwardly at each other before he breaks away and walks to his room.
As I make a sandwich, I think about everything that I need to do once we’re back from the trip. I haven’t told Brandon’s parents yet, and I’m not sure how the hell to do that. Mrs. Locke has texted me some, checking on me, which I appreciate. I hope she’ll be ecstatic with the news, but honestly, I don’t know. Either she’ll be excited to have a part of Brandon with us or she’ll be too grief-stricken and not want anything to do with me and the baby.
As I’m sitting at the kitchen table, looking over the stack of notes I need to memorize, Hunter saunters in wearing his workout clothes. He grabs his keys and wallet, then says he’ll be back in a couple of hours. We say goodbye, and then he’s out the door.
Looks like we’ve reached the awkward stage of faking a marriage and things being weird between us. Asking him to practice kissing and sleeping with me was probably too much. I’m starting to worry all my requests are taking a toll on him.
The conversation with Sophie lingers in my mind as I clean the apartment. Guilt consumes me as I think about how close Hunter and I have become over the past few months, but a part of me believes Brandon would be happy we’re leaning on each other. He always wanted us to get along, but I’m afraid we’ve crossed those lines now. If Hunter and I had met under other circumstances—if he had only been the roommate and we didn’t share a moment at the bar before I met Brandon—the entire course of our friendship would’ve been different.
