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Once five o’clock hits, I start dinner, and an hour later, Hunter comes through the door. My heart races, and I hate that after all this time, I’m nervous around him again. Knowing what we need to discuss tonight and my admissions have my nerves in overdrive.
“Hey wifey,” Hunter singsongs as he walks into the kitchen. I keep my eyes locked on the stovetop as I stir the chicken and Alfredo sauce. “Something smells good.” He opens the fridge and grabs a beer. “Whoa…did you clean in here?”
I swallow, turning to look at him with a forced smile. “Yeah, I was on a roll after I did our laundry and cleaned the apartment.”
“Lennon.” He keeps his gaze locked on mine as he takes a sip of his beer. “You didn’t have to do that.” Hunter leans against the door, his eyes boring into me as if something is on his mind.
“I knew you’d be busy with work and probably wanted to relax tonight.” I shrug, bringing my attention back to the pan. “It wasn’t a big deal. I folded and hung everything up too.”
“Oh, well thank you.”
I smile at him briefly. “No problem. Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes.”
“Great, I’m starving.”
Laughing, I turn the burner down. “You always are.”
Hunter gulps his beer, then tosses it into the trash.
“I’m gonna change quick. Be right back.”
“Sounds good.”
Shamelessly, I watch as he walks out, but he looks over his shoulder and catches me. He flashes a quick wink before he makes it into the hallway and is out of sight.
Ugh. I squeeze my eyes tight, trying to gain control of my emotions, but I feel as though they’re slipping through my fingers.
Chapter Nine
Hunter
Waking up with Lennon in my arms was heaven, and I hated having to get up and leave. The only thing that made me move was knowing I’d see her after work because even though our fake relationship is over, I still enjoy spending time with her in the evenings.
Nothing monumental happened at the office while I was gone, and after reviewing the current progress, I left the jobsite pleased. We’ll be finished in two to three months, and we’re on target to meet our planned budget as long as nothing terrible happens. Before lunch, just as I’m sitting at my desk to turn on my computer, my phone vibrates. I unlock it and see a text from Jenna. Considering I rushed her out of the apartment on Sunday, then rejected her call, I’m surprised it took her this long.
Jenna: Can we talk?
The dread immediately sets in, but I know the conversation we need to have can’t be avoided—not this time and not with what she’s claiming. Her showing up at the apartment again can’t happen, and we have some unfinished business to take care of. I try to think about what to say to her and know it’s a conversation that we should have face to face. Sure, I’m an asshole at times, but this is a serious accusation. I ask her to lunch, and we decide to meet in thirty minutes a few blocks away at a small burger place.
Her being pregnant weighs heavily on my mind as I try to think over exactly what I’m going to say. I check the time, grab my keys, then drive over. When I arrive, she’s already sitting at a booth by the window in the corner. Jenna waves, and I force out a grin and take a seat in front of her. It’s awkward as hell, and I’m grateful the waiter quickly walks up and takes our drink and food order. Moments later, he’s setting down our waters.
“How was your trip?” She casually takes a sip of her drink.
“Great. Weather was nice.” I’m not sure how to start the conversation, so I let her talk while I find my words.
“Listen. I know this entire situation is awkward for you. It is for me too, but we need to discuss the options of what’s going to happen next,” she states.
“Were you with other people when we were hanging out?” I come right out and ask. Raising my eyebrows, I watch her carefully and notice she’s more tense than I am.
She opens her mouth, then closes it before exhaling. Jenna’s always been a bad liar, and her hesitation gives her away.
“You were,” I say.
“We never agreed on being exclusive, Hunter,” she finally tells me.
I shake my head. “I didn’t expect you to be. But you can’t be sure I’m the father of your baby if you were with someone else. A few days ago, you were determined that I was, but how can you be, considering?”
“Based on my expected due date, I figured out when I would’ve ovulated and you’re the only person I was with during that time,” she tells me confidently.
