Page 42 of Kiss the Bride
Whatever
Olivia
For the first threedays of my relationship detox, I moped around, unable to enjoy the beauty of Lizard Island. The twenty beaches, the charming restaurant, the inviting snorkeling spots, and the adventurous kayaking routes held no allure. Even hiking seemed pointless.
Hunter had to coax me just to get as far as our veranda to enjoy perfect views of the ocean from our private, shaded, timber decking. Could I help it if I also enjoyed the perfect views of Hunter, with his sun-kissed blonde hair and bronzed surfer’s body? Yet nothing I did seemed to get Hunter to notice my white-on-white bikini under a white lace jacket. Perfect for working on my tan, not so much for getting his attention.
Why does Hunter’s attention matter?I should be mourning my non-existent marriage and my cheating fiancé. I should bereturning texts and finding a new job. Mitch’s dad probably won’t need my formal resignation, but posting the video of his son’s affair might make a good reference harder to get.
I should be sadder than I feel. In truth, I feel guilty about not being sadder.
It took years to get over Hunter and days to get over Mitch. That’s the guilty truth, not that Hunter believes me with all his pushing my leg away and refusing to turn hugs into embraces, or upgrade kisses to my head when I’m crying, to passionate kisses that lead somewhere.
I don’t miss Mitch, or how he controlled every aspect of my life—from our home to my car, to what we ate, to where I worked. If anything, I feel guilty at my relief that we are over. I don’t need to keep justifying his decisions to my family and friends, and pretending they are mine. I don’t need to defend him when he wants me to change plans at the last minute and I can’t tell my family or friends why.
I don’t miss him. I’m relieved that he did something so horrific that no one questioned why the wedding didn’t happen. Three days and I’m still humiliated that Hunter was with me when I discovered the truth and that our world knows Mitch cheated on me. I’m embarrassed by my reaction and how it affected Pete. But these three days are also filled with growing guilt because all I want is the same man I’ve wanted since we played in the same playpen—Hunter.
He thinks I only want him on a rebound. Hell. No. Looking back, Mitch had been the rebound, and it had been Hunter all along.
Last night, after talking to Daddy and Hunter sent the text to Mitch, we ate room service on the day bed. We talked about our careers and lives until I almost fell asleep again. Hunter carried me through to my bedroom before laying me down on the bed in my honeymoon suite.
I’d dreamed of that moment for over ten years—honeymoon suite, Hunter and me.
Except.
He broke my heart.
He encouraged me to move on with his best friend whose actions should have broken my heart, but Mitch had only broken his promise.
My heart, the strongest muscle in the body, still remembers Hunter.
How long is he going to make me wait before we have a conversation that matters—a conversation about us and if there is an us?
I shift as bare feet scuff across the floor outside my room. “Hunter?” I call, softly. My heart races, anticipation and hope intertwine as the footsteps pause before coming closer. He stops at the doorway, a silhouette against the moonlit sky. Does he know how beautiful he is? Does he know how much I’ve always loved him—or that there is still a part of me that loves him, present tense?
“Liv,” he whispers, his voice a gentle caress that strokes my heart. Three people I trust; Daddy, Mummy, Hunter. “Are you awake?”
I sit up, the sheet falling away to reveal my bikini. It’s either this or one of Hunter’s tees, and we aren’t there, yet. “Yeah. Can’t sleep.”
He steps inside, closing the door softly behind him. “Neither can I.” Hunter sits on the edge of the bed, his eyes searching mine. “We need to talk.”
I nod, my breath catching. “Yes, we do.”
He takes my hand, his touch sending shivers down my spine. “I know you think I rejected you. It’s just … you’ve just gone through … and I don’t want to do anything that can hurt you …and I don’t want you to regret us … and I just can’t sleep because what if this is our time and I’m blowing it again?”
My heart leaps. “Hunter, did you ever stop and think that Mitch was the rebound? What if it was and is and will always be you.”
“Liv, we can’t.” His mouth says all the right words, but his eyes tell a different story.
I lean in, eyes fixed on his, giving him a chance to pull apart but also hoping he sees the sincerity in my whole being. It’s always been him. Even when dumped me and even when I tried to pursue happiness with Mitch—it’s always been Hunter and Liv.
Instead of my lips, he catches my face, cupping it in his hands. “Liv, not yet. I’m not sayingnever, and I’m not even saying you need to take a month or a year to get over what happened. I’m saying that I care too much for you to take advantage of you.”
“But what if I want this?”
“Sweetheart, I’d do anything to know that’s true.” His face is filled with love and pain. “But I couldn’t bear it if we did something tonight and you hate me for it tomorrow.”
“I’d never hate you. I didn’t hate you when we were together, I didn’t hate you when you broke my heart. Why would I hate you for kissing me when I ask?”
