Page 72 of Hunter

My mother was fond of the Evelyn Waugh saying: “To understand all is to forgive all.” Not that Isabella ever asked for (or even wanted) my forgiveness, but the rancor I had toward her after last summer is so entirely transformed at this point, I count her loyalty to family as one of her most shining and admirable qualities.

…and my biggest adversary in envisioning, let alonehaving, a life with her.

Isabella Gonzalez is not a woman who is going to uproot her life and leave her family behind permanently, so the question becomes:Will I?

And as much as my love for her grows in depth and intensity every day, I don’t have an answer to this question. I wish I did. But I don’t.

Could I leave my family—my grandparents, father, siblings, siblings-in-law, niece, and friends? Could I leave Alaska with all of her funky quirks and wild ways? Could I be happy living in a city like Seattle? There is no doubt that giving up my life in Skagway would hurt, but would a life with Isabella be worth it?

We’ve only been dating for six weeks. I don’t know. I just don’t know.

But these questions weigh on me, and when I think of the day she will leave me, of that first night alone in my new house, I feel so empty, I want to curl up and die.

I don’tdolong-distance, she said last summer.

I’m starting to understand her choices in a very real and gut-wrenching way. She was protecting herself. Falling in love with someone who lives far away is a bona fide recipe for heartache.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks me, her naked body supple and warm spooned against mine. “It feels deep. And heavy.”

“How can my thoughts feel deep and heavy?” I ask, pressing my lips to the back of her neck.

“Because I’m getting to know you, and I know how a brooding Hunter sounds even when he’s silent.”

“My house’ll be done in a few weeks,” I say, sidestepping into the conversation.

“Right,” she says. “I can’t wait to see it! Why is that making you mopey?”

“Because it’s a few weeks closer to you leaving.”

I feel her inhale beside me. It’s a deep and heavy breath. Now I’ve infected her with my brooding.

When she doesn’t say anything, I decide to keep talking.

“I didn’t get it last summer…when you told me that you didn’t do long-distance, and that because your life was in Seattle, there was no future for us.”

“Do you get it now?” she asks, her voice tentative and soft.

“More than I did then,” I say. “Your family means the world to you. I love listening to your conversations with your mom and dad.”

“I know,” she says. She’s smiling now. I can tell. “You follow along. You laugh and frown at all the right places even if we’re speaking Spanish.”

“There’s so much going on. So much drama. It’s fascinating.”

“Yeah,” she says, with a little snort. “There are a lot of us, and we’re always in each other’s business.La Telenovela Gonzalez!”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” she says.

“You love your family…”

“Yes.”

“And your life in Seattle is important to you.”

“Very.”

“But you still came here for a whole summer. You chose to leave your life behind for three months. How did that happen?”

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