Page 52 of Hunter

“Of course!” I’m getting a little frazzled. “He’s a great guy, and if we lived closer to each other—”

“Thisagain.”

McKenna takes a handful of popcorn and gives me an annoyed look.

“Long-distance is a bitch, Ken.”

“It was when you were a teenager, but you’re an adult now. You have agency. You have money. You can make your own decisions. You can figure out smart solutions to difficult situations.”

What she’s saying sounds so simple, but it scares me so much.

I don’t want to fall in love with someone who loves their family as much as I love mine, but lives far away from me. My parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins are too important to me to only see them once or twice a year. I want my parents to take my kids for overnights, and teach them to salsa, and how to make chicken mole. I want my parents to be my kids’ emergency contacts at school, and attend their concerts and sports games. I want my kids to be proud Mexican Americans like me, and that can’t happen if I live 1,600 miles away from my family.

But, on the other hand, as much as I hate to admit it, Hunter’s important to me, too. This is the second time I’ve engaged in a relationship with him, and I can say—without reservation—that I like him better than any other guy I’ve ever been with. He’s amazing. The way he loves his family, the sweet way he tries to understand me, how he makes me feel cherished and protected. I like him so much, I don’t know how I’m going to let him go this time around.

“It was his idea,” I blurt out. “It was just supposed to be temporary while we’re doing the show.”

“And you agreed to that?”

“Sure. I mean, why not? He’s hot. I’m into him. Our chemistry is off the charts—”

“Yeah, but you’re falling for him,” she says.

“I don’t—”

“Bullshit anyone else you want in the universe,” says McKenna, crossing her arms over her chest. “But don’t eventryto bullshit me, Iz. It’s insulting, and it hurts my feelings.”

“I’m not. I’m just…”

“Even if you can’t be honest with yourself, I’d appreciate it if you’d come clean with me.”

“Fine!” I say, reaching into the bowl for a handful of popcorn and stuffing my face. “He’s more than just a booty call, okay? I like him.”

“A lot,” says McKenna. “You like him a lot.”

“Fine! I like him a lot.”

“You’re all flustered around him, and smiley, and you hang on every word he says, and you go traipsing through the woods with him when you hate nature.”

“I don’t hate—”

“No more bullshit!” McKenna bellows.

“Fine!” I yell again. “I went on a walk in the woods even though I don’t love the woods. I wanted to see his house.”

“And?”

There’s no point in lying. I admit defeat and surrender completely to McKenna’s interrogation methods.

“And…and…and I pictured him making me breakfast,” I say, hiding my face in my hands. “When he said the smaller bedroom was for the baby, I imagined it was mine. Ours. Our baby.” I look up at her, feeling frantic. “Oh my god, Ken, I’m falling for him.”

“There we go,” says McKenna, slow-clapping. “Was that so hard?”

“Yes,” I wail. “So hard. And so, so, so stupid!”

McKenna reaches for my hands and squeezes them, waiting for me to look up again.

“So,” she asks when I do, “what now?”

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