Page 27 of Love and Pumpkins
“Right.”
I shift to stand up, but Hunter pulls me into a gentle hug. He sighs against my forehead. Before letting me go, he places a soft kiss on my temple.
If I don’t watch it, I’ll fall in love with this man before our official first date.
I don’t know how Hunter does it. He works during the day, comes here after work to help me build my website,and then goes back to his mom’s place to paint or repair something until midnight.
Rinse and repeat.
It’s now Thursday evening, and Hunter says we will release the website to the world tonight. I’m giddy and nervous at the same time.
I made spaghetti and garlic bread for dinner, eager to impress Hunter with my limited culinary skills.
Hearing footsteps on the stairs, I open the door and call, “Hunter?”
“It’s me.”
He walks into my apartment with his laptop bag over his shoulder, a bottle of champagne in one hand and a bouquet of daisies in the other.
“Looks like you’re ready for a celebration,” I say.
“I am. As soon as we hit launch on the website, we’re popping the bubbly.”
We eat quickly and clear the table for our workspace. While Hunter is making the final tweaks to the website, I’m reviewing the inventory system against the detailed physical inventory I took this afternoon.
An hour later, we agree that everything is ready to go. We set a countdown clock on Hunter’s laptop, and when it counts down to zero, Hunter hits the launch button on the website.
We jump out of our chairs and do a happy dance in my kitchen. Hunter grabs the champagne from the refrigerator, and I get glasses.
We toast, sip, and Hunter grabs me in a tight embrace.
“We did it,” I say, the words muffled into his chest.
“Yes, we did.”
He sounds somber, and for a moment, I think this is it: his job is done, so he’ll leave, and I won’t see him again.
I look into his eyes and see the warmth and care in them, and I know it was just my insecurity talking, my constant worry is that my partner-picker is still broken.
“What a relief,” I say lightly, pushing my doubts aside.
Hunter kisses my forehead and releases me, walking to the couch and plopping down.
I follow and sit beside him. “You look exhausted. Are you getting enough sleep, between helping me and your mom?”
“I’m fine. Just relieved. There will be more validation to do, reports to run, and processes to iron out, but I think you’ve got it from here.”
“I hope so.” I set my glass of bubbly on the wooden coffee table, an old steamer trunk and lean against him. “Thank you again for your help.”
“My pleasure.” He puts an arm around me and holds me close to his body.
I yawn, and he chuckles. “Tired?” he asks.
“It’s been a busy week. Are you going home this weekend?”
I don’t want him to go, but he said he was just staying this week to help his mom. He said that he’d knocked off most of her to-dos.
“No, I’m staying another week. There’s no hurry to get back to the city.”
