Page 50 of Hunter

“This is it,” he says, dropping my hand. “You have to use your imagination a little.”

I stand where he leaves me, watching as he hops up on the slab, his eyes sparkling with excitement.They’re so blue, I think,they give the sky a run for its money.

“Tell me how it’ll look.”

“Porch over here,” he says, spreading his arms wide. “It’s a nice porch. Big enough for a swing on one side of the front door and a couple of rockers on the other. I’ll be able to watch the river as the sun goes down.” He steps back a few feet. “Here’s the front door.” He pantomimes turning the knob and walking through it. “And now I’m in the great room. Living room and dining room combination right here.”

“Windows?” I ask, grinning at him.

“Oh, yeah! Big windows here, looking out at the Taiya. I’ll have window boxes outside. They’ll be protected by the porch overhang.”

“What color flowers?”

“I don’t know,” he says, his brows knitting together. “Whatever my wife wants, I guess.”

“Oh!” I chuckle. “There’s a wife in there with you, huh?”

He shrugs, slightly sheepish, and I have a glimpse of the little boy he was once upon a time. “I hope so.”

“Tell me more.”

He steps backward, spreading his arms again to indicate another area. “Over here is the kitchen. Full kitchen, not galley.”

“For the wife to cook your dinner?”

“Or for me to cook hers,” he says. “I love cooking.”

I didn’t know that about him, but it makes my heart flip over, imagining him in boxers and a T-shirt making me breakfast some summer morning, the sunshine streaming in through our windows, eagles calling to their mates, and the river babbling—

Stop it!

I break off my train of thought and reprimand myself, astonished by how quickly I got carried away.Iwon’t be that wife. Someone else will be that wife. A wave of melancholy washes over me.

Meanwhile, Hunter has moved into the bedroom area, continuing his stream of consciousness.

“…for a king-size bed. I like a nice big bed. And over here is where the bathroom goes. It’s an en suite with a door to the other room over there.”

“Nice,” I say, forcing a smile.

“Through the bathroom is the smaller bedroom. Guest room, I guess. Or maybe, someday, a baby’s room.”

“A baby?” I ask. “There’s a baby living here, too?”

He stares at a spot where I imagine a crib and changing table.

“Someday,” he murmurs, shrugging again. “Hopefully.”

Again my heart flips. Again it fists. Again I fight myself.

You do not exist in this alternate universe, I whisper desperately to my heart.This is not your future. Your future is in Seattle, not Skagway.

“…a loft for storage, like Christmas decorations or seasonal stuff. You know, things we don’t need every day…um…Bella? Isabella?”

I look up at him and blink. I was fighting an internal battle while he was talking, and it must have looked like I zoned out.

“Sorry!” I chirp.

“No,” he says, hopping down from the slab. “I get carried away, but it’s probably pretty boring.”

---