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Not that I was going to admit to now.
Hunter sighed and leaned his weight against the wall. He tugged on my fingertips and held on as our arms hung between us. “Just because I’m jealous you’re a permanent part of my boyfriend’s life, doesn’t mean I don’t like you.” His voice was almost a whisper. “I’m a complex individual, capable of feeling more than one thing at once.”
“Do you want me to not do this?” Awkward phrasing.
He shook his head. “I would have said so, if that were the case.”
“But—”
“First of all, backing away from something you want isn’t any moreyouthan it isRamsey. You’re giving it another try because you feel something for him.”
“Yes.” I almost felt guilty admitting it.
“And second, you’re not responsible for how I feel. You can’t second-guess anything outside of what I tell you.”
I wanted to argue that I could try. That instinct and reading beyond the surface—seeing the subtext—was necessary in their world.
Hunter pushed away from the wall, pulling me with him. “How about this? I enjoy your company. I like the way Ramsey lights up when you’re around. All of that outweighs the jealousy. I mean that. You don’t have to dig through it for a double meaning. I’d rather have you around than not. But whether you decide to stay with Ramsey—to hang out with me—has to be based on what you want and what we all agree on. Not on what you think one of us might want that we haven’t said.”
That was a lot to absorb. “You’re so fucking reasonable sometimes.”
“I’m reasonable all the time. To a fault. Besides”—Hunter leaned in so his mouth was near my ear—“you’re the only woman I’ve ever enjoyed fucking, andgods, do I enjoy it.”
I smiled past the flush in my veins. “You’re such a charmer.”
“Junior League Champion, three years running.”
And now we were back to beingus. I was good with that. The teasing wouldn’t silence my inner nagging over his confession, but I appreciated his honesty. “Of charming?”
“Of everything, I assume. I’m the full package, babe.”
“You most definitely are.”
We chatted until guests started trickling—and then pouring—in. Ramsey still hadn’t returned. I recognized a handful of people, but for the most part, this was all new territory. Hunter seemed to know everyone, though. He introduced me to one person after another, always with a one- or two-sentence snippet about them, to help me remember who they were.
“Violet. Hunter.” Dottie’s familiar call came from behind.
We turned to find Ramsey’s grandmother approaching, wearing the warmest smile of anyone in here. She wasn’t a frail old granny. She was as tall as Hunter, in her heels, and unlike most of the women here, she wore a tailored suit.
She gave me a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I was so happy to hear your name when Ramsey called me. I’ve missed you.”
“Same.” I meant it. I didn’t know my grandparents, but Dottie always treated me like a member of the family.
“I’m glad you’re here, too.” She greeted Hunter with the same hug and kiss. “Where’s my Crow?” That was her nickname for Ramsey. She said his parents had missed out by naming one child Ravyn and not naming the other in kind. Especially since, like a crow, Ramsey always insisted on being heard.
Hunter gestured broadly. “Your guess is as good as mine. Publicity photos, I assume.”
Dottie raised an eyebrow and looked at me. “Does he realize this is your event, not his?”
“Not his doing.” I assured her.
“He’s perfectly capable of telling the media houndsno.” Dottie squeezed my hand. “When you see him, tell him I’m looking for him. And I hope I’ll be seeing more of both of you.”
A call pulled Dottie away, and Hunter and I were left to mingle again. The shoes Ramsey picked out were amazing, but not for standing in for hours. After I was certain I’d talked to everyone at least twice, I begged off to a quiet corner, to sit for a little bit, with Hunter for company.
That was where Ramsey found us. “Hey.” He pulled out another chair across from us, frustration etched on his face. “Debbie set up an interview and didn’t tell me first.” He looked at Hunter. “Don’t worry. I’ve told her this not-warning-me-first shit doesn’t fly.”
But he’d done the interview anyway, because he couldn’t turn away the perfect press opportunity. I didn’t have to ask if that was the case. The fact that he’d vanished for several hours said it all. I almost wished my brain defaulted tomaybe he waswithsomeone. It wasn’t a concern, though, even before he was with Hunter. I’d always been more worried about Ramsey’s love for the cameras than whether he was fucking around.
