Page 74 of Between Hate and Desire

Do you have plans tonight? :)

The smiley face is perfectly placed at the end because she knows damn well my world revolves around her right now.

Hunter

Just hanging out with my wang out.

Lennon

OMG! Could you keep your wang in? I invited my sisters over for dinner. I need to tell them the big news. It’s not something I want to text or do over the phone. Would you be here with me, please?

A smile touches my lips, one that she causes because she wants me there with her. If someone had told me six months ago this would be my life, I’d have called them a fucking liar to their face.

Hunter

I’d be honored.

Lennon

Thank you. I just can’t do it alone, you know?

Hunter

I’ll always be there for you, Lennon. No matter what.

And I mean every single word I text her.

Lennon

I’m so thankful for you. I know Brandon would be too.

Another punch straight to the gut.

There’s so much I want to say to her, but instead, I keep it short. It’s better this way.

Hunter

I’ll be home soon

I stand in my office and run my fingers through my hair. It’s so easy for me to live in this make-believe world where Lennon secretly feels the same way about me, but I know that’s not the case. I’m not trying to swoop in and steal her. Boundaries—I’ve got to make them and not break them.

On the way home, I try to imagine how Sophie and Maddie are going to react. Considering they’re the ones who forced Lennon to buy a pregnancy test, I doubt it’ll be a complete shock. I bet there are a few told you sos thrown in because that’s how Sophie is, being the oldest sister and all.

When I make it to the apartment, music blares throughout, and it smells so damn good. I drop my bag by the door and walk to the kitchen where Lennon dances around in those damn tiny jean shorts and a tank top, mixing something in a bowl. I lean against the doorframe and watch her, soaking this all in and wishing things were different for us.

“Holy shit!” she screams, pointing the mixing spoon at me with a death grip.

I burst into laughter. “Sorry! I didn’t want to interrupt your solo.”

She places a hand on her hip. “You almost made me pee myself, which apparently is another delightful symptom I get to experience.”

I shake my head and snort, walking farther into the kitchen. “Whatcha cookin’ for me?”

“Homemade chicken pot pies,” she answers with a smile. “Foreveryone. I was watching the Food Network earlier today, and it looked good.” She shows me her phone where the recipe is. “So I thought I’d try it.”

“So you find out you’re pregnant and become Betty Crocker?” I quip.

She’s always cooked with the exception of the past couple of months.

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