Page 28 of Love and Pumpkins
I sit up and look at him, shifting my body so I don’t have to strain my neck. “Really? That’s good, I think. Is there something at home you don’t want to deal with?” Does he have a roommate problem?
“No, things are fine there. It’s just my mom. I’m worried about her.”
“Oh.” He hasn’t talked about her this week. “What’s going on?”
“My dad left a few weeks ago.”
“Really? Why?”
Hunter leans forward, clasps his hands in front of him, and stares at the floor. “Says he’s done being married and wants to be single. He’s an idiot.”
“I’m so sorry, Hunter.” Reaching out, I put my hand on his. “I didn’t know. That’s heavy.”
This might explain the worry and angst I’ve been seeing flit across his face ever since last weekend at the festival.
“Yes, it is.” He lets out a long sigh. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to bring you down. We should focus on your website launch. This is a celebration.” He turns his head towards me and tries to smile.
“Hey. That was a task. A business task at that. What your family is going through is more important than a website. Let me know what I can do to help. You, or your mom, or your sister. I’m here for you all.”
“That’s all I need, to hear that you’re here for me. That means more to me than you know.”
He pulls me into a hug, and I try to convey everything I’m feeling right now through my embrace. Everything from gratitude to trust to deep friendship. What else could it be after knowing this man for over twenty-five years?
It’s been less than a week since reuniting, but I’m already feeling the start of something special between us.
Chapter Twelve
Three Months Later…
The smell of chicken enchiladas wafts to me. I’m standing on a ladder painting the living room at Hunter’s new place. He and Ray Toft are moving into a small house three blocks from my apartment.
Their official move-in date is January first, four days from now, but the landlord allowed them early access to paint.
“You missed a spot,” Ray says, stopping by the ladder and pointing towards the ceiling.
I look up and see where he’s pointing. “I need the smaller brush to get close to the ceiling. Don’t worry, I’ll get it.”
“Thanks, Phoebe. Appreciate you.” He walks into the kitchen.
Hunter comes in from the bedroom, where he’s been painting. There’s a giant splash of blue paint on the frontof his sweatshirt. I raise an eyebrow at him. “You have painted before, right?”
He looks down at his shirt and shrugs. “Not sure what happened there. Thought I had a steady hand. Are you ready for a break? I smell something delicious.”
“Yes, always. Especially when Chloe cooks!”
I step down the ladder carefully, carrying the near-empty paint tray. I place it on the drop cloth and step into Hunter’s waiting embrace. As soon as my body touches his, I remember the paint.
“Oh,” I say, trying to step away. Hunter keeps me firmly in his arms.
“Not so fast,” he says. “You’ve already got paint on you.”
“Yes, but not a lot.”
“Well, this way, Chloe and Ray won’t know who made the mess.”
“Wrong. It’s blue paint, you’re painting blue in the bedroom.”
“Fine.”
