I Think I Love You

by Layne, Lauren

  She broke off, and her arm dropped. Her eyes went cold and flat. “Cassidy already knows, doesn’t he? That’s why you’ve been behind closed doors with him so often.”

  “I gave my two weeks on Tuesday,” Hunter told her. “He’s letting me work from Kansas City for most of that time. Suggested it, actually. But, Brit, you’ve got to know . . . I suggested you as my backfill. I told Cassidy that there’s no one more qualified than you—”

  Her laugh had him breaking off. It was harsh and cold and completely unlike Brit. “Oh gosh, that makes it better. My best friend is leaving, dealing with a family tragedy, and didn’t tell me, but, hey, he put in a good word for me at work!”

  “Brit.”

  “Don’t Brit me, Hunter. What was your plan, exactly? Slip away in the middle of the night? Leave a note? Tell me when you told the rest of the team, what, next week?”

  “Monday,” he said quietly. “My last day in the office. And I’d have told you before then.” “You should have told me first,” she said, her eyes watering. “I know the romantic thing between us is complicated, but the friendship thing isn’t. Or at least it shouldn’t be.”

  “Don’t cry,” he said when her voice broke. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t know what to say. This is why I didn’t want to get involved with you. I’ve always known I was leaving someday. I didn’t know it would be this soon, but I’ve known all along that I wasn’t long-term-relationship material.”

  “Not long-term-friendship material either,” she said.

  “Brit,” he said, unable to hide the hurt in his voice.

  “What? What, Hunter? What do you want me to say? That it’s okay you pick and choose what to tell me? That you opt to avoid hard conversations rather than man up? It’s bad enough that you don’t tell the woman you’re sleeping with—”

  “God damn it,” he shouted. “See, it’s this. This is why we shouldn’t have done this. This is why I didn’t want to get involved in your whole quest for the fairy tale, because I’m not your Prince Charming.”

  “Obviously not,” she said, her voice so cold he flinched.

  She started to walk toward the door and he reached out, not willing to let them end like this. He needed her. He—

  “You know what?” she said, as though inspiration had struck. “For the past few weeks, I’ve been trying so hard to figure out just what we are to each other. And we’re not boyfriend–girlfriend. That much is certainly clear. But you know, Hunter . . . we’re not best friends either. Best friends don’t hear awful news and keep it to themselves. Best friends don’t sit across the table from someone three days in a row and not mention that they’ve been packing up their entire life.”

  “Bullshit,” he protested angrily. Desperately. “You are my best friend, Brit.”

  She stared at him as though she’d never seen him before. “I don’t think so. I don’t think we’re really friends at all. Not anymore.”

  She turned away, her hand finding the doorknob, even as he ached to pull her back. Even as he knew that he couldn’t. Shouldn’t. Brit turned back to him, her eyes not meeting his as she spoke. “Your brother will be okay, Hunter.”

  Hunter’s chest seemed to cave in on itself at her words. It was both the right and wrong thing for her to say.

  Right because it was exactly what he needed to hear—the comfort that had been eluding him for days.

  But also wrong. Wrong because it made him realize what a colossal ass he’d been. What a huge mistake he’d made . . .

  She was gone before he could sort it out. Gone from his life with nothing more than a quiet click.

  He stepped forward, intending to go after her, knowing that he shouldn’t. What could he possibly say?

  Instead, he rested his forehead against the door, even as he slammed his palm against it in pain, frustration.

  For the first time since he’d learned the news about his brother, Hunter let himself cry.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “The job’s yours, Brit. If you want it.”

  Brit sat in Cassidy’s corner office, staring blindly at her boss’s boss. No, her boss. Until they found a replacement for Hunter, his entire team would report directly to Cassidy.

  And if Brit accepted what Cassidy was offering, Hunter’s team would report directly to her.

  Even better, because it was Cassidy offering the job instead of Hunter, she’d skirt most of the slept her way to the top accusations.

  She should be thrilled, and she felt . . . nothing.

  “Can I think about it?” she said, looking down at her hands.

  “Sure, yeah. Take all the time you need. Hunter will be around for phone calls for the next couple weeks, and after that, I figure you and I have enough collective knowledge between the two of us to run the ship until we sort things out.”

  “Great.” She started to stand, but Cassidy held up a hand. “Brit.”

  She sat back down.

  Cassidy’s eyes were concerned. “You okay?”

  She smiled, knowing he was asking as a friend instead of a boss. Or maybe she just wanted to think that because she really needed a friend right now.

  It was Monday. Three days since their fight.

  Hunter’s last day.

  Taylor had told her his flight was at seven tomorrow morning. Taylor had told her because Hunter and Brit hadn’t spoken. She’d had one missed call from him late on Saturday night. She hadn’t answered. He hadn’t called back.

  “Not really,” she said, answering Cassidy’s question. “Which is a little pathetic, I guess.”

  “You guys are close,” Cassidy said. “You’re allowed to be upset when someone close to you relocates.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You, ah . . .” Cassidy fiddled with his pen, looking more uncomfortable than Brit was used to seeing him. “You guys going to try to do the long-distance thing, or . . .”

  She snorted. “No.”

  “Yeah, that’d be hard.”

  “Especially considering he didn’t ask,” Brit said.

  “No?”

  “Um, let’s just say he didn’t even tell me he was moving so much as I saw his stuff all packed up on Friday night.”

  “On Friday—”

  She could see Cassidy thinking, no doubt realizing that he’d received the news on Tuesday, whereas Brit . . .

  Cassidy sighed. “Hell. What an idiot.”

  “No arguments here.”

  “Is there anything—”

  “Cassidy,” she interrupted. “I don’t really want to talk about it. Not just yet.”

  “Sure, okay.”

  There was a knock at his door and Brit stood, grateful for the escape. She’d spent all weekend crying. If the usually stoic Cassidy kept looking at her with kind eyes, she’d break all over again.

  “Yeah,” Cassidy said to whoever was knocking.

  The door opened and Penelope poked her head in, clearly relieved to see Brit. She entered without asking. Cole followed, as did Jackson Burke, the magazine’s fitness editor.

  “Hey, sweetie,” Penelope said, walking to Brit and wrapping her arms around her. Brit hugged the smaller woman back, then laughed a little when Cole came up and wrapped his arms around both women.

  Jackson closed the door and Cassidy sighed. “I don’t suppose this is work-related.”

  Jackson ignored Cassidy, his eyes finding Brit over Cole’s shoulder. He smiled. “How you doing, Brit?”

  She laughed a little as Cole began to rock her and Penelope back and forth in a sort of lullaby motion. “Is everyone in the office thinking I’m a fragile butterfly to be soothed?”

  “No,” Penelope replied. “I heard Bradley Calloway tell Evan in accounting that with Hunter out of the way he could finally make his move on your, and I quote, fine ass. Cole spilled coffee on him.”

  “Accidentally,” Cole said, looking at Cassidy. He caught Brit’s eye and winked.

  She managed to extradite herself from the hug. “I appreci
ate all the support. Truly. But I’m fine. Friends move away all the time.”

  “Yeah, but you and Hunter were like . . .”

  Penelope started to wiggle her hips, and Cassidy cleared his throat.

  “You know,” Penelope said instead.

  “Well—” Brit gave a nervous glance at their boss.

  “Don’t bother denying it,” Jackson said cheerfully. “Everyone knows that you were, you know, even Cassidy. There’ve been bets on how long it would take for as long I’ve been here.”

  “Fabulous,” she muttered.

  Jackson wandered to Cassidy’s desk. “You got any candy?”

  “No, because this isn’t the fifth grade.” Cassidy watched as Jackson reached for a plastic container on his desk and opened it. “That would be my lunch.”

  “Salad,” Jackson said, putting it back. “Boring.”

  “What do you three nightmares want?” Cassidy asked. “Because it’s obviously got nothing to do with productivity.”

  “Checking on Brit. Seeing if Hunter needs to be maimed,” Jackson replied.

  Cole nodded, and they all looked expectantly at Brit.

  She thought for a moment. “I wouldn’t say no to the maiming. . . .”

  Penelope sighed. “Oh no. So he didn’t ask you to go with?”

  “Pen,” Cole said, a touch sharply.

  Penelope’s eyes went wide. “Should I not have . . . everyone was just wonder—I’m going to be quiet now.”

  “Excellent idea,” Cassidy said.

  “It’s all right,” Brit said, giving Penelope’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “But no. He didn’t ask me to go with him. He didn’t even tell me he was leaving until after he was all packed.”

  Cole made an irritated sound. “Fool.”

  Penelope opened her mouth as though to say something, then pressed her lips together as though holding something back.

  A slightly awkward silence fell over the group, and it was Jackson Burke who broke it, which surprised Brit. She liked Jackson, a lot, but she wasn’t close with the former football quarterback. He was a little quieter than the other guys, more guarded.

  Not today, apparently.

  He picked up a pen from Cassidy’s desk and began twirling it around his fingers with surprising agility for such a large man. He studied her. “You know . . . you don’t need his permission.”

  “What?” she asked, her eyes on the pen as though mesmerized.

  The pen-twirling stopped. “You don’t need his permission. Free country to move wherever you want.” The twirling resumed. “And I hear Kansas City’s nice. Real nice.”

  Brit stared at him. Surely he wasn’t suggesting . . .

  “Jackson,” Cassidy said on a sigh. “I’ve just lost my number one on the operations team. You trying to get rid of my number two?”

  Jackson shrugged. “It’s operations. Online shit. Seems to me a hell of a lot of that can be done remotely. Right?” He glanced at his boss.

  They all looked at Cassidy. He looked right at Brit. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d be open to some of my operations team working remotely.”

  Brit’s heart thumped with . . . she didn’t know what.

  Actually, that was a lie. She did know what. Her heart thumped with a plan.

  “Cassidy,” she said slowly. “Can I take a half day?”

  There’s something I have to do.

  He studied her, then nodded. “Sure. Yeah. You can take a half day.”

  “Wait!” Penelope said as Brit headed to the door. “You’re going to miss Hunter’s goodbye party!”

  Brit didn’t bother to reply. She’d miss the party, yes.

  But she wasn’t going to say goodbye.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Hunter tried like hell to enjoy his final day with the Oxford crew. He really did.

  He loved these guys. And women, since Penelope and Taylor, as well as all of the Stiletto girls, had shown up to send him off.

  Everyone except the one who mattered most.

  He hated how he kept looking at the door every time a new person entered the bar, waiting for a beloved blonde to come walking through the door. . . .

  “Do you want me to call her?” a soft voice with a touch of Southern drawl asked.

  He glanced down at Daisy Sinclair, who peered up at him with sympathetic brown eyes.

  He didn’t bother pretending not to know who her was. After him and Taylor, Daisy was Brit’s closest friend.

  No, he thought with a stab of remorse. Taylor and Daisy were her closest friends, period.

  Brit had made it clear he was no longer in the running for top spot. She was right. The way he’d treated her . . .

  Still, he’d wanted her to be here. Needed her to be here.

  But he didn’t deserve it.

  “Nah,” he said quietly to Daisy. “Thanks, though.”

  She patted his arm in comfort, which had Taylor narrowing her eyes as she approached. “Daisy here might be willing to let you off easy, but don’t think I’m not ready to chop your balls off.”

  “Hear! Hear!” Riley Compton said, clinking her glass to Taylor’s and linking arms.

  Hunter stared for a moment at the two women with their black hair and light eyes, slightly alarmed. “You know, I never realized how alike you two are. Both in looks and, um . . .”

  “Gentle temperament?” Riley cooed dangerously.

  It was true. Taylor was slightly taller, her eyes slightly lighter and grayer than Riley’s bright blue, but they were both stunning . . . and scary. At least at the moment, when either or both seemed ready to shank him.

  Riley’s husband, Sam, stepped between them and Hunter, giving the women a warning glance. “Now, ladies. Remember, we men can be idiots. We need time to sort it out.”

  “Ouch,” Hunter said with a laugh.

  Sam studied him. “Seriously, though. Is it true you didn’t tell her you were leaving until most of the rest of us knew?”

  Hunter felt like a school kid being scolded. “Um. Yeah?”

  Even kind Daisy looked disappointed in him.

  He was saved by Lincoln, who appeared at Hunter’s side, draped an arm over his shoulder, and handed him a cocktail. “Here. Drink this.”

  Hunter stared at it. It was fluorescent purple. “Do I have to?”

  “Aviation cocktail. It’s legit,” Nick verified from his other side, giving him a thumbs-up in cocktail approval. And Nick would know. Hunter’s going-away party was taking place in the bar where Nick worked part-time.

  He took a tentative sip of the drink. Not bad. More important, alcoholic. Maybe that would take the sting out of missing Brit. Out of the fact that he wouldn’t be seeing her for a long-ass time.

  He wouldn’t be seeing any of them for a long time, and the reality of it hurt like hell.

  Not that Hunter regretted his decision. He knew where he belonged right now. And that was in Kansas City with his family. What’s more, even as he was concerned for his brother, he was excited about the new job at the company.

  Much as it pained him to admit, it was time for him to leave Oxford.

  But, damn, he was going to miss it. And them.

  “We know,” Grace Malone said, coming up beside him and resting her head against his shoulder. “We’ll miss you too.”

  He glanced down with a smile at the pretty brunette. “Did I say it out loud?”

  “No,” Jake Malone said, taking a sip of his beer. “But how could you not miss us.”

  “Super true,” Penelope chimed in. “We’re the best.”

  “Hey, hey . . .” Lincoln said, holding up his hands in mock offense. “You all say that like we won’t all be together soon.”

  “You have a trip back to New York planned?” Penelope asked Hunter happily.

  “Ah—no?” Hunter said with a questioning look. Eventually he’d return for a visit, but he had no firm plans. . . .

  “Sure he does,” Lincoln said, clinking his glass to Hunter’s, purple cocktail to purple cock
tail. “He’s coming back for Daisy’s and my wedding.”

  There was a moment of stunned silence, and then everyone started talking at once—the women, as they charged for Daisy’s left hand, demanding diamond proof, then the men, as they gave Lincoln enthusiastic congratulations.

  Lincoln caught Hunter’s eye and grinned, and Hunter smiled back in appreciation, knowing Lincoln had just given him a brief reprieve from the attention he didn’t quite want.

  Almost. Almost a reprieve.

  Ignoring the hoopla, Taylor Ballantine ambled over to him, champagne glass in hand, eyes watchful. “So. You never answered my question.”

  “What question?” Damn, this cocktail was growing on him. He might need another.

  Taylor touched his elbow, gentler that he would have expected. “Do you love her?”

  Hunter looked at her in exasperated irritation. “Of course I love her.”

  Too late, he realized that he’d announced it loud enough to cut through the excitement over Lincoln’s and Daisy’s engagement.

  Everyone was staring.

  “In love?” Cole asked.

  Hunter glared at him. “Shut up.”

  “It’s a fair question,” Jackson Burke said blandly.

  “What does it matter? She lives in New York. I’m moving to Kansas City. And I hardly think she’ll agree to long-distance after three weeks of dating.”

  “Maybe not,” Julie Greene said. “But she might after, what, six years of friendship?”

  “I—” He stared at the pretty blonde, who merely shrugged as though to say, Just sayin’.

  “Did you even ask?” Riley pretended to inspect her manicure.

  Fuck. Fuuuuucccccckkkk.

  What was he doing? What if he did have a chance to be there for his family and to make things work with Brit?

  To find a way to have the woman he loved and the family he needed.

  Hell. He’d never know if he didn’t try.

  Blindly, Hunter shoved his drink at someone. Emma, maybe.

  “I’ve gotta go. Move. I’ve gotta go.”

  He bumped into a startled Cassidy, who was coming into the bar as Hunter was charging out. “Hey!” Cassidy said. “If I’m going to give my entire team the afternoon off for your party, you could at least be here.”