Hunter's Baby Girl

by Samantha Morgan

  “Can’t we talk about it?” he asked.

  “After I’ve had time to think. I promise, we’ll talk it out. But I need to process. Can you give me that, please?” I finally raised my eyes to meet his, and I saw a lot of pain there.

  “Sure,” he said after a long, silent moment. He held out his hand. “Here. Ibuprofen,” he offered. I accepted the tablets and the glass of water he’d poured. Then he turned and left the bathroom. I heard the front door open and close.

  Chapter 9

  It was three days before I called Hunter. It took me that long to get up the courage to face him again.

  To be honest, it was a long and miserable three days. Somehow, I’d come to rely on our little get-togethers more than I realized. They were like a release valve, almost. I could just forget about the world and its stresses and the fact that I felt like my life was slipping away as I worked at a meaningless job. I could escape and blow off some steam.

  I realized by the third day of having no contact with him that I had looked forward to our evenings. Now, I was back to having nothing to look forward to. That revelation alone was enough to make me take stock of my life.

  I didn’t want to rely too much on Hunter or anybody else. I’d been hurt too many times before when I gave my heart or attention or energy toward a person, only to find out that they weren’t interested, or that they were only interested in using me for what I could give them.

  I thought about that on Saturday night while I was making dinner for myself. So many times, I dove headfirst into another person and made my whole world about them. I would meet a guy and become friends with him and would inevitably develop a crush in no-time flat. I’d be supportive and caring, hoping that they would somehow realize I was the perfect woman for them.

  Only it never worked out that way. You can’t make a person love you, no matter how good you are to them. Eventually, our friendship would end, and I would be heartbroken. I didn’t want to have my heart broken again, by Hunter or anybody else. I had to be smarter this time.

  After all my soul searching was finished and I had eaten my solitary dinner, I gave Hunter a call. I decided I wanted us to continue along the course we’d started, but there needed to be complete honesty. Otherwise, how could this end well?

  We agreed to meet for coffee on Sunday, just as we had when we first made our arrangement. This time, he was the one who arrived early, and he had a latte and muffin waiting for me. As I walked over to the table, I was taken aback all over again by his good looks. Steady, girl, I told myself.

  “A latte,” I murmured as I took a seat, and I couldn’t help the rueful smile that spread across my face. He realized what I meant, and his face turned a deep shade of crimson.

  “Don’t worry about it, I’m just teasing,” I assured him.

  “At least you’re teasing me,” he said. “I wasn’t sure you’d ever want to talk to me again, much less tease me over our safe word.”

  I looked around to be sure there was no one in the vicinity who could easily overhear us, then turned back to him. “So like I said on Wednesday night, I needed time to think. And I’ve done a lot of it.”

  “So have I,” he said. I was glad to hear it, but the skeptical voice of reason in my head told me to take his words with a grain of salt. It was then I understood the fact that he would need to regain my trust.

  “Where did your thinking lead you?” he asked, toying with his coffee cup. I could sense how nervous he was.

  “Hunter . . . I don’t want to end what we have,” I said. I thought it would be best to let him off the hook upfront rather than keep him dangling. I heard his sigh of relief and saw the smile that spread across his painfully handsome face. I reminded myself to not get all gaga over him just because he was good looking.

  “But I think we have a lot of talking to do before we can get back into things,” I added. He nodded emphatically. I continued, “I really hated you on Wednesday night, to be honest. I hated what you did to me, and I hated feeling like I was nothing to you. But more than anything, I hated the way it seemed like you enjoyed it. You liked it, didn’t you?”

  He avoided my eyes, but I stared at him. I wasn’t going to let him off the hook so easily. Finally, his eyes wandered back to mine.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I really don’t.”

  “Then why do you do it if you don’t actually enjoy it?” I asked. “What’s the sense of being some fake sadist? You’re not impressing me with this, you know. I don’t want you to hurt me for real. I’m not into pain – like serious pain, the kind you made me feel on Wednesday night.”

  “I got carried away,” he said softly.

  “That doesn’t give me a lot of confidence in any future playdates we have. You know that, right?” He nodded.

  “I get it,” he said. “And I don’t blame you if you’d rather not take the chance. I’d had a really, really bad day. And I shouldn’t have brought it into our world.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “I’d had a bad day, too.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?” he asked.

  “Why didn’t you?” I countered. “Besides, in the grand scheme of things, you’re holding most of the cards here. If I have a bad day and get carried away, I’m more bratty than usual or don’t submit early enough. When you do, you nearly draw blood on me. See the difference?”

  “So what do we do?”

  I mulled it over. “I think we should both have the option of tapping out.” He snorted, but I saw he understood what I meant. “If we know we’re not in the right headspace to play nicely, we shouldn’t play at all. And the other person has to respect this. Otherwise . . . bad things can happen.”

  “Agreed,” he said.

  “So there’s no bringing outside things inside our dates,” I confirmed. “I have to be able to trust that you’re going to live up to this agreement. Can I trust you?”

  “Absolutely,” he said. I saw nothing but earnestness in his face. He reached over and took my hand where it sat on the table. “Hayley, I want you to be able to trust me, and I’m sorry I ever did anything to make you doubt me. I have loved spending time with you, and I want to spend more time. But I want you to be able to enjoy it with an open heart. Or else what’s the point?”

  I felt warm and good inside when I heard him say that. I knew he meant it, too. If nothing else, Hunter was a sincerely nice person.

  But that sincerely nice person had a side to him that led him to hurt me. I couldn’t forget that so easily. The pain may have faded, but the memory hadn’t. I knew I’d have to be careful going forward. And there was no way I could open my heart to him as I had obviously been ready to do before that last incident.

  Chapter 10

  Just as it had before, time seemed to drag between that meeting at the coffee shop and our next agreed-upon playdate. We decided Tuesday would be a good night for the both of us.

  “Now remember,” I said before we parted ways on Sunday, “we promised each other that if the day isn’t a good one, we’ll be honest about it. Right?”

  “Right,” he confirmed.

  For my part, Tuesday was going swimmingly well. Maybe it was the knowledge that I had something to look forward to again. There was definitely something to be said for anticipation. It can make time drag, but it can also make the very mundane aspects of working in an office much more bearable.

  Still, I had to be sure my work for Ian was impeccable. Just because I was excited about seeing Hunter, I couldn’t risk getting into trouble at work. There was definitely part of me that craved the approval I got from my boss when I did a job well along with a part of me that dreaded criticism or the feeling I’d let him down.

  I spent hours that afternoon going over reports. The font was so small, I had to squint. Before long, I felt a familiar pain in the back of my head, right at the base of my skull.

  “Oh, no,” I murmured, closing my eyes and putting my head in my hands. “Not today, please.” But it was too late: I�
�d suffered from migraines for years, and I could tell this was shaping up to be a big one.

  I tried everything I knew to help myself, from acupressure to medicine to visualization. But nothing was working. The pain was growing worse. At least it was nearly time to go home, but then I’d be missing out on my playtime.

  By the time I got home, it felt as though my head was in a vise. I texted Hunter, telling him I felt sick and wouldn’t be able to get together that night. I hated having to do it, especially after everything we’d been through in the past week, but there was no way I was up to par.

  All I wanted to do was melt into the sofa and zone out. Some people need perfect darkness and quiet for a migraine, while I usually did better if I had something to listen to. So I would put on a string of sitcoms and lay there with my eyes closed, just listening. Sometimes I would even stare at the TV, eyes unfocused, and let it sort of hypnotize me into forgetting the pain.

  After an hour of this zoning out, I heard the sound of the door opening and closing. I stirred, my reverie broken. “Hunter?” I whispered, my eyes still closed.

  “Yeah, it’s me. Don’t get up,” he whispered.

  “I’m too sick,” I mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know,” he said. “I got your text. I thought I’d bring over some soup in case you’re hungry later, and some Gatorade so you can stay hydrated in case you throw up or anything.”

  Even in all my pain, I couldn’t help feeling warm all over. He knew there was nothing I could offer him tonight, yet he still went out of his way for me.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, opening my eyes briefly to look at him.

  “No problem,” he answered. “My mom used to get migraines sometimes, and I remember how bad they can be. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  I thought about it for a minute. “Can you stay and talk with me? Distraction helps.”

  So he sat on the sofa with me, my head in his lap. I felt his hand gently stroking my hair, and I let myself focus on that comfort instead of the agony I’d been going through.

  “Whatcha watching here?” he asked. I shrugged.

  “Not sure,” I mumbled. “Whatever is on. Just something for me to listen to.”

  “Gotcha,” he replied. “So how was your day? Did you go to work, or were you sick all day?”

  “I was at work,” I said. “It hit this afternoon.”

  “Was it a very stressful day?” he asked, still stroking my hair.

  “No. I just had to stare at tiny numbers all afternoon,” I explained.

  “That’ll do it,” he observed wryly. “Tiny numbers are enough to drive anyone to the brink of insanity.”

  That comment gave me pause. “What do you even doing for living? I can’t believe I’ve never asked you that before.”

  He chuckled. “I was more interested in getting to know you than in sharing details about myself, I guess. I’m a landscaper. I have my own shop.”

  “Wow,” I said. “That’s amazing, and so cool. You must always be around flowers and trees and plants, huh?”

  He chuckled again. “That’s one way of looking at it. Sometimes the more business-related aspects of having my own service get in the way of the big picture, though. I think I liked it better when I was just out there all day, planning things and planting things and getting my hands dirty. I don’t get to do as much of that anymore. But I’m trying to strike a balance. Either way, it’s better than what I used to do.”

  I was intrigued. “You weren’t always a landscaper?”

  “No. I got my MBA and was working at an investment brokerage when the economy tanked. One year after graduation, and I was left with a worthless degree. Nobody was hiring, companies were downsizing, the competition was fierce.”

  “No kidding,” I mused. “So you just, like, decided to change course? Just like that?”

  “Well, I never really wanted to work in business. That was just something my parents wanted for me,” he explained. “I had always loved being outdoors, you know? I wanted to do something that would give me the chance to breathe fresh air for once. I saw my layoff, and the challenges of finding a new job, as an opportunity to do just that.”

  “Wow,” I murmured. “That was pretty gutsy.”

  “I guess,” he said. “Really, it was a matter of following my heart. The Universe has a way of making us follow our dreams, one way or another. It’s up to us to be open to the chances we’re handed.”

  That got me thinking. I was impressed with the way he saw the world and wished I could be more like him.

  “You okay?” he asked, his hand stopping its movement.

  “Oh, fine,” I said. “No better, no worse. Please, don’t stop,” I asked. I felt his hand moving again.

  “Was it something I said?” he finally asked. I shook my head, then thought twice.

  “Well, actually, it was. Sort of. You got me thinking about myself,” I explained. “I’ve been going through a quarter-life crisis lately, I guess.”

  “How so?”

  “Have you ever felt like the clock was ticking?” I asked. “Like you’re wasting your life doing something you’re not interested in?”

  “Sure,” he said. “I felt that way throughout the entire MBA program. I really did.”

  “So you know what I mean. I’m stuck between what I know is a sure, solid thing and something I’ve always wanted to do but never had the guts to try.”

  “What is it you want to try?” he asked.

  I felt embarrassed, and I didn’t know why. “I’ve always had trouble sharing my secret dreams with people,” I explained. “I guess it comes from being laughed at when I was a kid. Bullies can really leave a mark, can’t they?”

  He thought about this in silence. “You’re right,” he said. “Years later, was can still carry the marks. Well I’m not a bully. I’m not going to laugh at you or think you’re wrong. You can trust me.”

  “Well . . . I’ve always wanted to be a photographer. A children’s photographer,” I said. I waited to hear him snort or make some derisive comment, but he didn’t do either of those things.

  In fact, all he said was, “What’s stopping you?”

  I was floored. Nobody had ever asked me that before. “The unknown, I guess. I mean, my job is secure. Why would I give that up? It would be irresponsible.”

  I heard Hunter chuckle softly. “And with everything I just told you about myself, you still think there’s such a thing as a stable, secure job? There just isn’t such a thing anymore. Unless you’re a tenured professor or something. Otherwise, you never know what’s going to happen. Believe me, one of the most dangerous things in the world is a false sense of security.”

  “So you think I should go for it?” I asked, feeling skeptical.

  “I do. Are you a good photographer? Do you have the equipment you need?”

  “I’ve been taking pictures since I was a kid,” I revealed. “And I have a nice, top-of-the-line camera. I’d get up and show you if I didn’t feel so bad.”

  “No need,” he assured me. “I think once you do a little research, maybe, and find out what you need to do to market yourself and set up your business, there’s no reason why you couldn’t get started. You might even dabble a little on the weekends, just to get your feet wet and find out if it’s the right fit for you.”

  When he put it that way, it made perfect sense. Why hadn’t I thought about it before? This didn’t have to be all-or-nothing. I could get my feet wet first, as he put it, and figure out whether or not this was for me. I had the time to try new things, learn about the business. I had the luxury of a full-time job to fall back on.

  “You’re a genius,” I whispered, closing my eyes and relaxing again.

  “So you will?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” I replied. I knew he’d help me, too. I wasn’t sure how I knew, exactly. I just did.

  “Are you feeling any better?” he asked. I froze. Was I? In the midst of our conversation, I’d been distracted away from
feeling sick. I wasn’t about to turn cartwheels or go out on the town or anything like that, but the terrible pressure had finally ceased.

  “Wow,” I murmured. “It’s like a miracle. I feel so much better already.”

  “Good,” Hunter said. “Maybe you should try to eat some soup. I’ll heat it up for you.” He wouldn’t take no for an answer and insisted on getting up to fix me some soup and crackers. I smiled to myself once he was out of the room, unable to deny the fact that it felt good to be taken care of like this.

  In fact, it was something I could get used to.

  Chapter 11

  Since nothing had happened between us on Tuesday except for a lot of talking and TV watching, I invited Hunter back over on Wednesday to make up for it.

  “And I really feel as though I owe you something special,” I said. “Believe me, unless you’ve suffered through migraines, you don’t know what a relief it is when one has gone away. How about I make you a nice dinner tomorrow night?”

  He had smiled and accepted my offer and promised to come back the next evening. I realized about halfway through the workday that I was even more excited than usual to see him.

  This was strange, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Again, I reminded myself not to hope for too much; even in terms of a “normal” relationship (which was becoming a more muddied concept the more I thought about it), it was way too soon to start getting all wrapped up. I had to be careful. I couldn’t keep making the same mistakes, time and again.

  I tried to keep this in mind then, and told myself that the night was just like any other night. We were going to play for a while, just as we had been. Then we might have dinner and stay in our roles, or break away from that and talk as Hunter and Hayley. Whatever. No big deal.

  So why couldn’t I stop my heart from pounding as I waited for him to walk through the door?

  I had dinner started by the time he walked into the kitchen. “Something smells good in here,” he commented with a smile. He walked over to the stove, where I had chicken cutlets simmering in a lemon sauce. There was pasta boiling on another burner, and garlic bread heating up in the oven.