Page 25 of Capitally Unexpected

I nod. “I can see how it could balloon out of control. What does Duncan do?”

Hunter laughs. “Honestly, he takes people’s money and makes them, and him, more money. At least that’s what it seems like.”

“Guess a business mindset is pretty engrained for him then.”

He nods. “It is. Except he offered me start-up funding as a graduation present. I turned him down, telling him I knew it was a gift, not an investment. He makes so much money because he’s successful, not because he gives handouts.”

“So, now what?” I’m not following where this is headed.

“Well, now, everything has changed.” His gaze falls to wheremy hand rests absentmindedly on my stomach, on our little Cumulus. “When I said I wanted to be involved, I meant it. That means, to me, I need to be here. In DC.”

“You want to move to DC?” I say, a bit dumbfounded. He’s right, it makes being involved a lot easier, but is a hell of a disruption to his life.

“I do. It’s a big meeting day for both of us—I met with Duncan this morning to present my business plan. Hayden helped me put it together over the last thirty-six hours. Duncan says he needs to think it over, but I know he only said that because I made a big fuss about being treated like a normal client. So, I’ll move here and hope I can launch in a bigger market, make it a full-time thing. Hayden’s going to help me with an app . . . I hope I can be here permanently in two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” I say, starting to panic. He’s known about the baby for less than two days and he’s ready to uproot everything. How can he be that sure?

“I know. I’ll try to make it less if I can. But I need to sell my bike, give notice at a few places I’ve been picking up shifts, see if I can get out of my lease ...” My hand on his arm causes him to trail off.

“Hunter, you don’t have to do this. Or at least take some time to think on it first. Moving here, giving up your connections in kitchens, going full-time with the business, is that really what you want?”

Hunter slides his arm through my grip, tangling his fingers with mine. “If life’s taught me anything consistently, it’s we don’t always get what we want. But moving here, being here for this baby, for you. If you’ll let me, it might be what I need.”

I stare at him in silence as he lets me soak it in, rubbing the back of my hand softly with his thumb.

“And a new dimension to the plan came to me after I got here this morning. What if I help you by cooking and meal planning for you? You said you don’t cook much, and I saw the stack of sweetgreen napkins on the counter and the yogurt bowl fromSouth Block in the fridge. I know eating out isn’t cheap, especially getting fresh and natural foods.”

“I mean, I eat McDonald’s too, but those napkins don’t rat me out,” I grumble. He laughs, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

“I can supplement the Golden Arches, no problem. I originally planned to stay with Duncan or Hayden, but they’re not super close to here, so maybe I can find a room for rent somewhere, to save time traveling back and?—”

“Move in here.” There goes that lack of filter again. But as soon as I say it, the pit in my stomach calms.

“What?” he says. It’s his turn to look panicked.

“You’re doing all of this for me, for us”—I press on my stomach again—“the least I can do is house you. If we’re going to do this, let’s go all in.”

Hunter’s eyes sparkle with something a lot like excitement. “If you’re sure, that . . . that would be great. I want to be a part of everything you’ll have me for. Morning sickness, cravings, doctor’s appointments. All of it.”

The air around us grows heavy as our eyes stay connected. His declaration rings in my ears, the sincerity and enthusiasm bleeding through. When Hunter says he’s all in, it’s not something he means lightly. I can tell. He’ll be my person through this. I just need to let him.

The timer on the oven goes off, breaking the moment.

“I should get that,” he says, giving my hand one more squeeze. I watch him walk to the kitchen, the sounds of frittata being removed from the oven and plated reaches my ears. I imagine a future where the sounds of someone else navigating my space is a normalcy, not a novelty. Eventually, the coos and cries of a baby join the fray.

Slow your roll, Lewis. Nothing is guaranteed.

Hunter brings a plate heaping with breakfast, handing it to me, along with the fork and napkin. Taking a bite, a groan leaves me, putting the purest smile I’ve seen yet on Hunter’s face.

Guarantee or not, what will it hurt to enjoy the ride?

Chapter

Eleven

Hunter

Thirteen weeks pregnant

---