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“I can deal with this one. He’s got enough on his plate.”
She nearly spills her wine as she points a finger at me. “You see, that’s it right there.”
“What is?”
“You do love him.”
“What? What are you talking about? I’ve spent the last two hours telling you what an asshole he is.”
“And you just said he’s got enough to deal with without your problems on top.”
“Doesn’t mean I love him.”
“All right, but you do care about him.”
“Of course I do. I just wish he’d stop blowing so hot and cold.”
“Maybe he feels the same way about you. Do you want to be with him or not?”
“I don’t know.”
“He probably feels the same. Look, we can sit here all night and talk about how Hunter’s being mean to you, or you could talk to him instead.”
“I can’t talk to him.”
“I know. He’s out for the evening. What about tomorrow?”
“Said he wouldn’t be back until Monday night.”
“Did he say where he was going?”
“Nope. Not a word. It’s not a good sign, is it? Can’t tell his wife where he’s going.”
“Doesn’t matter. We eat all the ice cream he’s got and empty his wine cellar, ideally drinking the most expensive stuff we can find. We throw up on some of his precious Persian rugs, really go to town on the place.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll settle for watching another movie with you, and then I’m going to bed.”
“Fine, but I’m staying the night. No way I’m going home to our tiny place when he’s about a hundred guest bedrooms to choose from.”
“Just try not to throw up. The cleaners have to deal with it, and I’d rather not make enemies of them.”
“Spoilsport.”
44
Bex
* * *
“What do you think?” Jo asks.
I run my eyes over the projector screen on the far wall. “I feel like Caesar,” I say. “Thumb up or down, and you’re all poised waiting. I’m not in charge. You do know that, right?”
Around the boardroom table, no one speaks. “What?” I ask as they all look at each other. “What’s going on?”
Jo pipes up, coughing politely first. “Hunter told us that you are in charge when he’s not here.”
“Did he now?”
