Page 23 of Something Borrowed, Something You

Margaret laughed. “I’d keep your foot pain to yourself.”

Derek turned his attention to Hunter. “By the way, she’s also pissed at you.”

“Me?” Hunter said. “What the heck did I do?”

“Remember when we first told you Anna was pregnant?”

“I think so?”

“What did you say?”

Hunter’s response was a guess. “Congratulations?”

“Nope. You said maybe we’d have the kid six weeks early to share a birthday with her favorite uncle.”

Hunter smiled. “I guess I did say that.”

“Yeah, well… my wife thinks the baby would have been born a few hours ago, but it stalled to share a birthday with you.”

“So it’s my fault she’s still in labor?”

Derek smiled. “It’s better than it being my fault, which it was until she came up with that crazy theory.”

“I’ll take one for the team. No problem.”

With a promise that the next time he appeared he’d be announcing the birth of his child, Derek headed back through the double doors of the labor and delivery unit.

Since we had some time to kill, Hunter and I decided to go outside and do a lap around the hospital to get some fresh air. It was dark, but Los Angeles still lit the night.

“So, I guess happy birthday is in order?”

“Thank you.”

“How old are you, again?”

“Thirty.”

I turned to walk backward. “Wow. That’s a big birthday. Do you have any plans?”

“I was supposed to have a drink with Derek while you ladies threw Anna her baby shower. Then we were assigned to load my truck with gifts and deliver them to Derek and Anna’s place. My plan was to try to convince their houseguest to pick up the kiss where we left off at the wedding last year.”

I laughed. “Looks like you’re ahead of yourself. We did that this afternoon.”

“Have dinner with me tonight?”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Hunter pouted. “You’d leave me all alone on my thirtieth birthday?”

“Something tells me you don’t have to be alone if you don’t want to be. I bet you could snap your fingers and get a date. In fact, why don’t you have a girlfriend, Mr. Delucia? What’s wrong with you?”

“Why does something have to be wrong with me because I don’t have a girlfriend? I’m guessing you don’t have a boyfriend, since you kissed me this afternoon. Does that make something wrong with you?”

“Um… First off, you kissed me. I didn’t kiss you. Second, I don’t have a boyfriend, or that kiss wouldn’t have happened, no matter who started it. And third, yes, there’s something wrong with me.”

Hunter stopped in his tracks. It might’ve been dark, but I could see legitimate concern on his face. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m divorced at twenty-eight. My ex-husband is in federal prison. I have full custody of a fifteen-year-old who isn’t mine and doesn’t particularly care for me. I just borrowed twenty grand I’ll never be able to pay back from my mother to cover an overpriced high school so said fifteen-year-old will hate me less. Should I go on?”

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