Page 98 of Between Hate and Desire

“What’s the name of the church where my father preaches?”

Right once again.

I ask him at least twenty more—a mix of childhood questions to more recent stuff—and he answers all correctly without pause.

“What’s my favorite color?” I ask randomly, though it wasn’t written down in the cards. He’s so on top of his game, I want to throw a wrench his way.

“Yellow,” he answers, not as confident as before.

“Why do you say that?” It’s a trick question anyway since I don’t have one.

Hunter shrugs one shoulder. “You remind me of sunshine, so I thought yellow suited you best.”

“I do? How so?” I ask, genuinely interested.

He shakes his head just the slightest, twisting his lips almost as if he wished he hadn’t said anything, but I’m too curious to let him off the hook, so I anxiously wait.

“Well, when you weren’t scowling, you were always laughing and smiling, singing and dancing around. You were the epitome of a ray of sunshine, lighting up every room you walked into. It wasn’t hard to notice, I guess.” I hear the vulnerability in his tone as our eyes stay locked.

“Wow…” I say, blinking. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” I think yellow just became my favorite.

Before he can respond, my stomach growls…loudly.

His brows pinch together as he laughs. “Was that you?”

“Yeah. Apparently, breakfast wasn’t enough.” I blush.

“Good time to take a break then. I think I have your notecards memorized anyway.” Hunter wipes his palms down his jeans, then stands. “Want me to make you an early lunch?”

“How about you let me make you something for a change?” I grab his arm and pull him back to face me. “Seriously, I can.”

“Sure. I was just trying to help.” He thrusts his hands into his front pockets. “Actually, I’m not super hungry, so I’ll pass this time. I’m gonna hit the gym for a couple of hours since I’m all packed.” Hunter’s tense, and I wish I knew what he was thinking.

“Oh, um, okay. I’m about done too, so maybe I’ll take a nap after I eat.”

We stare awkwardly at each other before he breaks away and walks to his room.

As I make a sandwich, I think about everything I need to do once we’re back from the trip. I haven’t told Brandon’s parents yet, and I’m not sure how the hell to do that. Mrs. Locke has texted me some, checking on me, which I appreciate. I hope she’ll be ecstatic with the news, but honestly, I don’t know. Either she’ll be excited to have a part of Brandon with us or she’ll be too grief-stricken and not want anything to do with me and the baby.

As I’m sitting at the kitchen table, looking over the stack of notes I need to memorize, Hunter saunters in wearing his workout clothes. He grabs his keys and wallet, then says he’ll be back in a couple of hours. We say goodbye, and then he’s out the door.

Looks like we’ve reached the awkward stage of faking a marriage and things being weird between us. Asking him to practice kissing and sleeping with me was probably too much. I’m starting to worry all my requests are taking a toll on him.

The conversation with Sophie lingers in my mind as I clean the apartment. Guilt consumes me as I think about how close Hunter and I have become over the past few months, but a part of me believes Brandon would be happy we’re leaning on each other. He always wanted us to get along, but I’m afraid we’ve crossed those lines now. If Hunter and I had met under other circumstances—if he had only been the roommate and we didn’t share a moment at the bar before I met Brandon—the entire course of our friendship would’ve been different.

Was Hunter an asshole to me because he thought I stole his best friend? Was he angry all this time because I ended up with Brandon and not him?

Shit. Why hadn’t I thought of this before?

Hunter taking care of me, nearly begging me to stay here, suggesting this insane plan of being my fake husband…

And then kissing me like that.

Oh my God.

Realization hits me in full force as I tidy up the bathroom. Every time he heard me singing, he screamed at me to shut up, and now he loves it. He says Brandon would’ve wanted us to get along, which I know is true, but he has gone above and beyond to make sure I’m okay. He hasn’t brought a girl home in months or even gone out to the bars without me.

Have I been that dense this entire fucking time?

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