Page 81 of Merritt and Her Childhood Crush
“I can’t seem to stop,” I say as my hands slide across his chest. I mean the words to sound teasing, but instead they sound wanton and breathless.
He leans down and presses his lips against mine. “I don’t ever want you to,” he whispers when he finally pulls away.
We walk to my car, hand in hand.
“I know it’s a Saturday, but I was thinking I’d be by the house tomorrow anyway, as long as Isabelle’s up for it.” He makes a face. “She’ll have to come with me. My parents can help some while I’ve got her, but tomorrow they’ve got plans.”
“Isabelle can hang out with me while you’re working,” I volunteer, immediately hoping I don’t regret it. Playing Bananagrams while Hunter is present is one thing. But entertaining a kid I barely know one-on-one is another matter entirely. “I’m certainly not busy. We could go down to the beach. Or play games.”
“She likes you,” Hunter says. “I bet she’d love that.”
“I like her, too.”
Hunter kisses me again, right up against the car. The man seems to like kissing me up against things or on top of things. I will not even pretend to mind. The kiss is longer this time, but with the measured control I’m beginning to sense dictates everything Hunter does in life.
It’s a selfish thought, but I find myself wanting to push against that control. What would it take to make this man let go? To kiss me like he doesn’t have to stop. Like he doesn’t have to worry about whether his daughter is watching. Or whether we’re going to break each other’s hearts again.
I can’t lose you a second time, Mer.
His words echo through my mind, and I pull away. Even though I don’t want to. Even though, if he asked me to stay and keep kissing him for the next twelve hours, I wouldn’t be able to say no.
But he won’t ask, and I have to understand why. Despite wanting to make him lose control, I need to be as careful with him as he’s being with me. As careful as he’s being with himself. And his daughter.
We aren’t just kids now. The stakes are higher. And there’s an actual kid now, one whom I imagine would suffer right alongside Hunter if he were hurting. IfIhurt him.
Which I won’t, I vow.Not again.
I pull back the slightest bit. “See you tomorrow?”
He nods and kisses my forehead, one hand wrapped around the back of my neck. “I can’t promise I won’t text you a hundred times between now and then.”
“You don’t like talking but you like texting?”
Laughing a little, he says, “I like everything when it comes to you, Mer.”
It occurs to me, as I drive back to Gran’s house, that I’m not just looking forward to seeing Hunter again. I’m looking forward to whatever comes next, too.
For once, there’s nothing looming over me. No deadlines. No meetings. No stressful schedules or client quotas or emails to answer. For the first time in I don’t know how long, my future is entirely unknown. New York Merritt would have been terrified of that.
But now? All I feel isfree.
EIGHTEEN
Merritt
My confidencein spending time alone with Isabelle lasts until six a.m. when I wake up in a sweaty panic.
What was I thinking?!
I don’t know what to do with her. Not without Hunter. What if I accidentally say the wrong thing, like bring up an inappropriate topic for an eight-year-old?
I mean, I don’t even know what topicsareappropriate for an eight-year-old.
Like, what if I accidentally drop the bomb that Santa’s not real?
Why that would come up, I have no idea. Isabelle may not even believe in Santa. Do eight-year-olds still believe in Santa? Somehow I can’t see Hunter keeping that particular tradition. But what if he does, and what if I tell her, and what if she cries and hates me, and Hunter tells me this will never work between us because I ruined Christmas?
I head to the kitchen to make coffee, my thoughts still spiraling. If Isabelle doesn’t have a good time, I could ruin everything. And Ireallydon’t want to ruin everything.
