Page 134 of Dear #47, You're the Worst
I’m not there yet. Maybe I’ll never be. But lying here with her curled against my chest, feeling the weight of her trust in the way she lets herself be vulnerable with me, I think I might want to try.
“Hunter?” she murmurs against my throat.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For what you said about Patrick. About my ambition.”
I tighten my arms around her. “I meant every word.”
“I know,” she says, and there’s something soft and surprised in her voice. “That’s what makes it matter.”
She falls asleep first, her breathing evening out against my neck. I lie here awake, staring at the ceiling and trying to process the magnitude of what’s happening to me.
Five months. That was supposed to be it. Five months of fake engagement, mutually beneficial arrangement, clean break at the end. We’re at the halfway point and my entire brain is screaming at me to make it more permanent somehow.
There’s nothing fake about the way my chest tightens when she smiles, or the way I plan my days around the moments when I’ll see her again.
There’s nothing fake about wanting to tear apart anyone who’s ever made her feel like she was too much, too ambitious, too everything.
There’s nothing fake about the way I’m falling for her so hard it feels like hitting the ice at full speed.
The smart thing would be to pump the brakes. To remember that this ends whether or not I want it to. To protect what’s left of my sanity before she walks away and takes half my heart with her.
Chapter30
Juliet
Tonight is a Havoc game night event, the buzzing, high-energy gathering where sponsors write checks and players smile for photos and everyone pretends hockey is just a fun game instead of a multimillion-dollar business.
I’m doing my new job, following Ivy as she makes the rounds, staying visible but professional. She’s good at this, better than I expected. Natural with people in a way that makes sponsors feel special without being obvious about it.
“The Hendersons are here,” Ivy murmurs, nodding toward a couple near the bar. “Tech money. They’ve been thinking about a naming rights deal.”
“Oh, I know the Hendersons. Fancie, the wife, was one of my tennis partners back in Houston.” They’re from Texas, although I think I heard something about them moving to Seattle to be closer to Jared’s business headquarters. “Want me to introduce you?”
She eyes me. “Wow, I had no idea you were so connected!”
“Oh, well.” I flush, smiling. “I met everybody and their sister when I was a Houston WAG.”
“I’ll just bet you did. I think we’re okay right now, but keep an eye on them during the second period. If we’re winning, I’ll circle back.”
“They were a good sponsor for the Stars. I know that a team like the Havoc will blow their minds.”
“God.” Ivy grins at me. “It’s really nice to have a woman working with me who vibes on my level.”
I wink at her, my face heating under her knowing gaze.
“Oh, no.” Ivy frowns, looking at Jimbo Greene being practically assaulted by a young blonde. He looks a little uncomfortable as the blonde lays a hand on his arm and leans in, a smile on her face. “Shit, that’s my sister Opal. God knows what she’s saying to Mr. Greene. I have to go rescue him.”
As she scurries away, I smile and shake my head. It feels good to be here tonight. I’m thinking about how nice it is to be working with Ivy when I spot my parents, standing near the VIP entrance like they own the place. Which, knowing my mother, she probably thinks she does.
My mom is wearing an elegant white blouse and a tight black pencil skirt. My dad is more casual, wearing jeans and a dark gray Seattle Havoc hockey shirt over his white button up. This is their usual getup when going to an event: my mom looks ready to pull out a law book and start lecturing anybody who gets in her way; my dad embraces the spirit a little more but is obviously pretty uncomfortable.
Classic Melissa and Tom Monroe. “Shit,” I mutter.
My parents weren’t supposed to come tonight. I’ve barely kept in touch with them over the last couple of months, even though I just moved back into the same city. And yet here they are, my mother in her perfectly tailored skirt and my father sipping a foamy beer like he’s never tried one before. Justperfect.
“Hey mom,” I say, waving awkwardly.
