Page 19 of Capitally Unexpected

I smile, resting my head in my hand. “That’s really sweet.” I pause for a second and decide to probe a little bit. We’re going to get personal by the end of the night anyway. “You said you read with your stepmother?”

It’s already a dark room, but I can see Hunter’s eyes as they darken. “Yeah, Margaret. She’s wonderful. No evil stepmother trope here. My mom died when I was eight. Dad worked hard to keep all five of us together and pay off the debt left behind. We all dealt with it differently. My way tended to be more . . . destructive.”

“Is that when the tattoo habit started?”

He rubs his arm absentmindedly. “No, nothing like that. We lived in a different small town then, but everyone knew the Brandt brothers, especially the troublemaker Hunter. No tattoo artist within thirty miles would touch me while I was underage, and I didn’t have a way to get farther. But I had plans, for sure. I don’t have a record, but I think small-town life is also to thank for that.”

I nod. “Grief can impact people in lots of different ways.”

“What about your family?” he asks, picking up a piece of bread someone dropped off on the table while we were talking.

I suppose I should have seen this coming, since I probed into his. I take a breath in and say it fast. “My Dad skipped town when I was three. I haven’t seen him since. My mom did a decent job of not bringing men into the house while I still lived there, but it was one deadbeat after another. If she happened to find a good one, she’d find some flaw and leave him for a change. I spent a lot of time at the neighbors, or when she felt I was old enough, home alone. It’s not the healthiest relationship in my life.”

“You’re an only child?”

I nod. “As far as I know at least. I’ve always been scared to do one of those DNA test kits. Find my dad with some other family that could make him stay? They were young when they had me. Logically, I know neither of them was ready, but it left its mark.” My arm goes across my stomach absentmindedly while I talk. I tell myself I’m not repeating the cycle. I’m over twenty years older than my mom was when she had me. I consider men with the opposite instincts of how my mom would look at them. No guarantee what Hunter will want, once I tell him, but he deserves to know.

The waitress passes by for the fourth time, and we finally put in our order. Hunter talks with her about the dishes for a few minutes, taking her recommendation for an appetizer and main course. I’m not the most adventurous eater on a good day and Iwasn’t exaggerating when I told Jax and Laurel earlier I thought my morning sickness was starting.

“So, is food your thing?” I ask, grabbing a piece of bread myself.

“I’d call it one of my things, yeah.” His eyes look around and he clears his throat. “I, uh, actually just finished my associate’s degree in culinary arts. They say it’s never too late to go back to school.”

I take a drink of the mocktail the waitress dropped off. I’m impressed by the smooth service they provide without interrupting. A great place for a date. Though, I don’t expect to have many more of those anytime soon.

“That’s great. And I heard that sarcasm there at the end. Not everyone knows what they want to do with their life at eighteen, or hell, even at twenty-eight!”

“Twenty-eight was about the age for me, actually. I moved out on my own after catching my dad and Margaret on the couch coming home at 2:00 a.m. one too many times.” I snort laugh. “Hey, when you find love again after raising five sons, he can get it. But it’s not something I need to see.”

“That’s fair. And probably healthy. But you were saying you moved out?”

“I did, and I realized very quickly how used to Margaret’s cooking I was. She loves to cook, and always made too much, so she’d leave leftovers in the fridge for me to heat up after a shift, or as a midnight snack after the bars closed. Remember, small-town New England. You walk to and from the bars, when there aren’t feet of snow on the ground.”

I grew up in Middle America, where if you didn’t have a car, you might not see another soul for a week. I understand the concept now, but couldn’t imagine it before college.

“So I asked her for a few easy starter recipes. I mastered those and then started experimenting with little changes here and there. Making things my own. I tried harder and more complex recipes, and before I knew it, I was the one cooking forthem. I passed an advertisement for the culinary program at the community college in the next town over just under two years ago, and here I am.”

He takes a big swallow of his drink, his cheeks pink. It seems he’s not used to talking about his accomplishments or celebrating his wins. Very interesting.

“So, I couldn’t help but notice you said you moved out when you were twenty-eight.”

He groans. “I hoped you wouldn’t pick up on that. I know what you must think, me living at home. But it took a while to pull my head out of my ass. But here I am. Fully de-assed. There’s something about you that makes me not want to hide those parts of me.”

I take a big gulp of my drink, wishing it had something stronger when I think of what I’m hiding from him. The waitress arrives with our dinners. After making sure we have everything we need, she tells us to enjoy our food. I hope we can—we didn’t ask which dish pairs best with life-altering news.

“Thank you for being honest.” I pick up the thread. “But no, you didn’t let me finish. I’m more am doing the math. If twenty-eight is only a few years ago for you, that confirms the ninety-three in your handle is because you were born in 1993?”

“That’s right. And let me guess. The eighty-five in yours is because you were born in 1985?”

I nod with my mouth full of a bite of my salad.

“So, you’re a few years older than me.”

“I’m a third grader older than you, Hunter.”

He takes a bite of his sandwich, looking thoughtful and somehow looking hot with juice running down his face. The glistening on his chin reminds me of the other time we were together and he got his chin wet.

I take another big gulp of my drink. Maybe it’s best this doesn’t have any alcohol in it, the way I’m chugging it.

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