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“You already have me. I love you.”
“You love your comfort more.” He shakes his head. “I asked you to stop writing the article. You refused. If you ask me to give up the club, I will also refuse.”
“I know that, which is why I’m not asking you to leave the club.”
“I think we can have everything.” He paces around the room and then back until he comes face-to-face with me. “I think I can keep you and the club.”
“I suppose I could ask Mandy and Jack to stop going to the club.” Then: “Shit!” I clasp my hand over my mouth.
“Jackson Paris?”
“My God. What a mess I’ve made of things. I’ve violated my NDA in so many ways already.”
“Actually, you haven’t. I know Jackson, and I know his fiancée, Mandy. I’ve met her a few times. I’m not sure I ever knew her last name, but now that you mention it, your eyes are similar to hers.”
“I’ve done it now.”
“You’ve done nothing. We’re all members of the club and all bound by the same confidentiality agreement. I already know they go there. You haven’t done anything.”
“They…know who you are?”
“No. Only Claude and Braden Black—and his brother, Ben—know my real identity. But they know me. They know Phantom.”
“Oh.” I look down.
“So back to this. Your discomfort.”
The look on his face guts me. The full-lipped frown. The tight jaw. But his eyes are what get me. They’re shadowed, sad, distraught.
What a fool I’m being. I enjoy the club. I’m finding so much of myself there. Hunter enjoys the club. Hunter and I love each other. Nothing else is relevant.
“You know what? I’ll get over it. We’ll use the club. Jackson already knows who you are, and Mandy’s my sister, so the two of you will meet.”
“Would it be different if Jackson and I didn’t know each other?”
“You know what? No, it wouldn’t.” I reach toward him, cup one of his stubbly cheeks. “I’ve been an idiot, Hunter. I love you. And honestly, I had no idea you felt the same way about me. I didn’t think there was any possibility of that.”
“After I brought you to my home and everything?”
“Honestly, no. The stories you told about Allison. How much she meant to you and how gutted you were when you lost her. And then Teresa and how you got burned by her, trying to recreate what you had with Allison. I wasn’t sure you would ever let yourself feel again. That’s what I told myself, anyway.”
“I’m sorry, Frankie.”
“Are you kidding me? You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m the one who put my personal comfort ahead of what we have together. It won’t happen again, Hunter. I promise you that. In fact, if you want me to put the kibosh on the article, I’ll do it. I’ll do it for your comfort.”
“Absolutely not,” he says. “You don’t give up the article, and I don’t give up the club. We can both be happy with both of those decisions. We have to make allowances for each other. Compromise. I’m not thrilled about the article, but it’s important to you. If you can get past your discomfort of possibly running into your sister at the club, I can certainly get over my discomfort with your article.”
He kisses me then—a long, slow, passionate kiss, different from our normal raw and savage kisses.
This is a kiss that says everything’s okay between us.
This is a kiss that says I love you.
Chapter Forty-Six
Hunter
Snickers from my students greet me when I enter the classroom the next morning.
Then silence.
And stares.
I suppose this is what I get for ignoring social media. Who knows what kind of shitstorm is taking place online?
“All right,” I say, setting down my messenger bag, pulling out my iPad, and finding today’s lesson plan. “We ended last time talking about Heathcliff and how he’s a classic Byronic hero. Today, I want to focus more on Catherine and her role in the story in preparation for your next paper.”
The expected groans don’t come.
I raise my eyebrows. “Great! I see you’re excited about the next paper. That’s good news. It will be a compare and contrast of either Heathcliff or Catherine with a similar contemporary hero of your choice. And yes, it can be Anakin Skywalker or any other movie or comic book hero. I won’t limit it to literature only.”
They’re still eerily silent.
I breathe in, hold it, and exhale. Best to be proactive in situations like these.
“You’ve no doubt seen what’s happening on social media. Yes, I wrote a novel of erotic fiction under a pen name. It will be releasing in a few months. That’s all I’m going to say on the matter. Now, let’s talk Catherine Earnshaw. Dina, could you tell us some of the characteristics of our heroine?”
Dina Strauss always sits in the front row, always participates, and always has something insightful to say.
