by Rosie Praks
If Hunter wasn’t too bogged down with trying to convey to Clarice that he was the perfect father figure for her baby, then he would have noticed her reaction was actually a sign of jealousy.
“No,” Hunter said, his tone a little too loud. “I’m the father of your baby. I shouldn’t be allowed to do such things.”
“Stop saying you’re the father of my baby. You just happen to be the guy I accidently slept with. I told you. I wanted Anton’s sperm, not yours.”
“What’s so good about Anton anyway? Why did you want his sperm so much?”
Hunter got riled up too. Mentioning his cousin like that made him uncomfortable. He knew Anton was superior in all his traits and he was the inferior one in their relationship. Shifting in his seat slightly, he eyed Clarice, preparing to battle out any negative traits she might heave at him.
“Anton is everything you’re not.” Clarice started her narration on the perfect man. “He’s smart.”
“I’m smart,” Hunter countered, defending himself. From what he could remember, he had always been smart, even in high school and university. He’d just been too lazy to do anything with his degree since his family had everything already.
“Yes, you’re smart. A real smart mouth.” Clarice retaliated.
“No, I’m not,” Hunter retorted stubbornly.
“Yes, you are.” Clarice pressed her point, gritting her teeth at Hunter’s stubborn attitude.
“Name one time when I’ve been a smart mouth, then.” Hunter wanted proof. How could Clarice prove this? He only said what came to his mind.
Clarice didn’t even need a minute to think. She fired back her answer immediately. “Like before. What’s with you saying the word breast all the time when I specifically asked you not to say that word out loud in public.”
“That’s because I wanted to ask whether you would be breastfeeding our baby or not,” Hunter explained. “I saw the formula on the shelf. That’s why I asked.”
“Fine, then.” Clarice dropped that subject and moved on to the next just as quickly. “But Anton is a man that has achieved so much,” she stated. “He takes his responsibilities seriously. And you—”
“Of course Anton has achieved so much.” Hunter interrupted Clarice before she even finished her sentence. “He’s thirty-one and I’m only twenty-three. There’s an eight-year difference between us. He’s had eight years ahead of me to accomplish those things. How could I compare to him?”
“Age isn’t a factor for success.” Clarice pointed out his fault. “Look at your behavior compared to Anton’s. He shoulders all his responsibility, and you… you…”
“I what?” Hunter asked, his ego slightly bruised.
“All you do is wander around kicking the wind.”
“Wander around kicking the wind?” Hunter asked, a baffled look on his face. “What kind of expression is that?”
“That just means you don’t do anything productive. You just waste your time doing nothing.”
Hunter was taken aback. “I’m not doing nothing. What do you mean? I’m here right now, aren’t I, looking after you?”
“Looking after me?” Clarice scoffed. “I can look after myself, thank you very much.”
“But you’re pregnant.” Hunter fired his lame excuse.
“Yes, pregnant, Hunter, but not disabled.” Clarice finally had enough. They were merely going round and round with their debate. Whenever she outlined one flaw, he would always retaliate with an excuse. “Now get out.”
“But you’re pregnant.” Hunter pressed on again. “You need me to look after you.”
Clarice clenched her fists and closed her eyes. Why did he have to keep saying the word pregnant? What was so wrong with being pregnant without having a companion to look after you?
“What do you want, Hunter? Seriously, just tell me what is it you want from me.”
“I want you.”
The sound of the rain stopped. Clarice could only hear her own heartbeat and those words that were now repeating inside her mind. I want you. I want you.
“I mean I want to live with you.” Hunter corrected himself
Her softened heart hardened in a millisecond, and she yelled out, “Why?”
“Because I want to see our baby born into a loving environment.”
This tugged at her heartstrings. Again!
Clarice sat a little straighter in her seat and listened.
“I know what it’s like to live a life with no mother. I only grew up with Anton and Dad…”
Did Hunter really grow up with no mother? When he cried, did he have no mother to hug him?
Despite growing up in the refugee camp in a poor living environment, she’d always had her parents’ love. What had Hunter gone through? Could his behavior be the case of a poor little rich boy who grew up with unloving parents?
“I don’t want our baby to grow up like me.” Hunter continued. “Lacking in affection and love from a mother, having no warm breasts to hug when I’m happy or sad—”
“Again with the word breast.” Clarice’s pity for Hunter was shoved to the back of her mind and her moody temper flared up once again. “See, how can I take you seriously? Every single word that comes out of your mouth is so perverted. Breasts, bra size, sex.”
“That’s only three words.”
“You aren’t getting the point, Hunter.”
“And your point is…”
“That you’re a perverted playboy who isn’t suited to be the father of my baby.”
“I’m not suited?” Hunter asked, shocked. It was like someone had poured ice-cold water on his head, not that he wasn’t already wet from the rain. But truly, what quality did he lack?
“Yes. It doesn’t matter how many times you tell me this baby is yours. I will not accept it. You have no quality as a father whatsoever.”
“Name my faults, then.”
“You’re a playboy who pounces on any human within two feet.”
“You make me sound like an animal.”
“And you’re not?”
“Of course not. I don’t pounce on men. I’m not gay, you know.”
“So you admit that you do pounce on women, then.”
“Well, yes… wait, no. That was before. Now I’ve changed.”
“Changed? What about Mary? How do you call that changed?”
“Mary was my fan.”
Clarice cringed when she heard Mary’s name. “Fan? Are you a celebrity or something, Hunter? Because I don’t ever recall you being on TV.”
“No, I’m a socialite. I’m the hottest guy here in the southern hemisphere.”
“Oh please. Stop showing off. That’s the one quality I can’t tolerate from you, Hunter. You think too highly of yourself. Yet you can’t even accomplish anything. Look at Anton. Look at how much he has achieved in his life. Look at how sensible—”
“Why are we back to discussing my cousin again?” Hunter whined. He was starting to get irritated.
“Because he’s perfect and you’re not.”
“No human is perfect. Anton has his flaws too, but you just can’t see them.”
“Maybe he does have some flaws, but not to the extent of yours.” And then Clarice started listing his flaws again: playboy, immature, irresponsible, all of the undesirable traits that Hunter didn’t want associated with his name.
Hunter’s mouth tasted bitter. Hearing his own flaws outlined to him like that, even he wouldn’t date himself if he were a woman.
“But…” Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to counteract her words. He was like an inflated balloon that just kept plummeting farther and farther, smaller and smaller, until it sizzled into nothing. He was really a player, he guessed, and it affected Clarice’s view of him a lot. Finally, in a last act of trying to salvage his manly pride, he burst out his one and only secret. “But I haven’t slept with anyone else since we last slept together in Queenstown. See, I am totally abstaining from sex.”
“Hunter… you…”
Clarice didn’t know what to say. Did Hunter just confess that he’d been abstaining from sexual intercourse since the last time they slept together? Could she be that special someone that had changed him?
Clarice didn’t want to believe it. He was lying again. Just like reading all those pregnancy books about women and eating healthy food. So instead of kissing and making up with him, she yelled at him. “Hunter… you’re seriously not even listening to me. I’ve had about enough of you today. I’m all wet. I want to go home, get in bed, and sleep.”
“Yes. I agree.” Hunter nodded. “Let’s go home. Get in bed and sleep. I’ll cuddle you.”
“Hunter!” Clarice wanted to smack his head. Why was he being so ignorant? “You are not going home with me. You will not get in bed with me, nor will you sleep with me. Now go home, to your own house. Stop following me. I forgive you for our mistake. I won’t claim anything from you anymore. We are essentially adults now. It’s over. Just… go back home.”
“Clarice. No!” Hunter suddenly grabbed her hand, frightened that the inevitable might happen, that Clarice would push him out of her life. “I won’t allow it.” He adamantly added, “It’s not over. I want to be there at our baby’s birth. I’ll show you I’m a changed man.”
“I don’t believe you.” Clarice stubbornly refused to acknowledge his declaration.
“I’m going to show you so you’ll believe me,” Hunter said seriously.
Hunter’s eyes spoke volumes. Leaning closer until his lips gently brushed along her lips, he spoke. “I’m going to kiss you now, Clarice, and I will show you how serious I am about you and our baby.”
“Hunter, no not—”
And he kissed her, clamping her mouth shut before she could voice her protest. He threaded his fingers through her silky black tresses, cupping her cheek, pulling her body closer to him, hugging her so he could feel her heart beating the same rhythm as his beating for her.
Hunter didn’t stop kissing her, didn’t stop pouring out his passion, until he was out of breath. When he reluctantly pulled back, he saw her lips glistening with wet dew from his own lips and her face flushed crimson.
Hunter wanted to kiss her again. He really wanted to kiss her again. But he didn’t. He let Clarice go and watched her as she breathed in air slowly, trying to fight the desire that had mounted inside her, just like the demon that had settled inside him, wanting so much at that moment to ravish her.
“You kissed me,” Clarice spoke after she caught her breath.
“Yes, I did. I’m sorry I made you mad, but I’m not sorry I kissed you.” Hunter apologized softly, his voice still holding a faint trace of desire. Taking her hands together, he held them within his own and with a serious face, spoke. “I really want to live with you and look after our baby together.” Then he pulled her face forward until his lips were a hairsbreadth from her forehead. “Please believe me when I say this.”
Only one gentle kiss pressed to Clarice’s forehead, but it was enough to provide a thin haze over her mind. After that, she didn’t remember driving home. Nor did she remember getting out of the car and fumbling with the lock at the front door, until Hunter’s voice pierced through her fogged mind, like a spear knifing through her subconscious, bringing her back to reality.
“We’re home, Clarice.”
Clarice blinked awake and spun around to see Hunter, his wet clothing clinging to his skin, his massive broad chest blocking her view, a silver lining surrounding his slender frame.
Had the rain stopped? She blinked again. Then she remembered why Hunter was at her house. But she was too tired to even think properly anymore, what with all the emotions toiling inside her. She simply said, “You don’t have to follow me home. I can manage by myself.”
“I just want to see you safe and sound. Out of that wet dress and into something warm.”
Hunter made a move to touch her arm, but Clarice moved away until her back hit the door.
“I said go home. I’m fine,” Clarice spoke, her voice quivering slightly. She didn’t like Hunter being all serious like this. Somehow it made her feel uncomfortable, like he would seriously change his playboy behavior just for her.
No, Hunter would never change. They were polar opposites. Hunter lived in the fast lane, whereas she lived in the slow lane, never to meet and never to collide. She needed to escape from Hunter’s presence; she needed to get into the house. So she turned the doorknob and was about to enter her house when Hunter grabbed her arm, her escape dissolving like steam.
“Clarice, wait,” Hunter spoke, his voice soft and caring. “I will prove to you that I’m a changed man. I will show you I’m serious about this baby of ours. You just wait and see.”
Clarice paused, then lifted her eyes to look up at him. “Okay. I’ll wait and see.” Then giving Hunter a final glance, she went inside and closed the door. She rested her head against the doorframe and closed her eyes, sighing heavily.
What a day, she thought, breathing slowly. From the homely feeling to the rage when she saw that girl kissing Hunter to the moment he said he was a changed man.
Hunter said he hasn’t sleep with anyone since we last slept together back in Queenstown. Is it really true?
Clarice placed a hand to her chest. She could feel her heart beating wildly. Suddenly, a little thought niggled at the back of her mind, telling her she’d forgotten to do something important. What is it? Then it came to her. She’d forgotten to take the key out of the lock at the front door.
As this thought flitted through her mind, she heard the tumbler turn.
Clarice panicked.
In a flash, she swung the door open and stared at the now empty porch and the now unoccupied lock.
Dear heaven! That Casanova. He stole my house key!
Chapter 7
Despite the cool breeze in the office, Anton fumed silently. If they wanted to taunt him by talking about Clarice and remind him of how pathetic of a man he was that he couldn’t even get the girl he was going to court, then what in God’s name were they doing in his office? And they were his damned cousin Hunter and Fern.
Anton continued to grumble to himself while he worked on some documents. At least have the decency to talk somewhere else, he thought. Their voices were so loud he couldn’t help eavesdropping on their conversation. A few fragments had caught his attention, and one of them was, “Clarice…”
Anton found himself sitting very straight on his seat, gripping his pen tightly and holding his breath, as if he were waiting for their conversation to continue. When he heard Fern laughing, he realized all thoughts of work were no longer on his mind. His curiosity won over as he sat himself more comfortably in his chair and turned his ear like Dumbo the elephant to hear what they said.
“Hahahaha.” Fern, who was sitting on the edge of Hunter’s seat, was laughing her head off. “Oh, Hunter, I thought you had more guts than that.”
“That’s not funny, Fern.” Hunter moaned.
“I’m sorry, but you’re just too hilarious.” After some time, Fern ceased her laughter and spoke plainly. “So do tell. I want to hear everything.”
Hunter flicked his gaze to his cousin, who was sitting across from him at his desk. The man was slouching a bit, his head down, his perfectly cut hair covering his eyes. His cousin looked so focused on his work.
A little ping of pain slashed at his heart. Clarice was right. Anton looked to be the perfect man for their baby. Hunter was just an accidental sperm donor that her cousin Max had mistaken to be the real thing.
But he was glad Max had mistaken him as Anton that night, because he’d never been so happy before. He would change his ways and try to be the best father to their little baby. But overall, he would show Clarice he wasn’t going to be the man she thought she knew. He would no longer be the number one Casanova of Australasia. He would be the number one partner in the whole world.
Flicking his eyes again to Anton, he realized he was still in his cousin’s office, talking to Fern. Hunter st
opped his rambling and turned back to the present situation.
Hunter knew Anton wasn’t the type to pry into people’s affairs, but he somehow still felt afraid to tell Fern about his predicament in front of his cousin like this. What would happen if he accidently blurted out that Clarice was pregnant with his baby? Wouldn’t his cousin just kill him on the spot?
Hunter knew now not to blurt out random confessions on impulse, not since accidently spilling their news to that cashier about their odd relationship. Clarice had reprimanded him and now he’d learned his lesson.
Ushering Fern so she stood, he gestured for both of them to exit Anton’s office.
Fern wiggled her brow in confusion at Hunter’s request, not sure why they must speak elsewhere, but then complied anyway. They both went to the little conference room farther down from Anton’s office.
“I think I’m in love,” Hunter confessed once his friend was all alone with him.
“You’re in love?” Fern asked, smiling, already knowing where this was going.
“Yes.” He nodded glumly.
“Congratulations.” Fern went to hug her friend. “I knew something was up, what with the confession onstage and you pretending to be the blind old man like that.”
When Fern pulled back, Hunter was still looking glum.
“Why the gloomy face? I thought people who are in love would be on top of the world.”
“I know. I know.” Hunter brushed aside his friend’s comment. He went to the long conference table where the staff usually had their meetings and sat on its surface. As if to prepare himself before he spilled out the next big secret, he inhaled some air and then turned to look at Fern. “But there’s something you should know first that should explain why I’m in this gloomy state.”
“Okay. I’m listening.” Fern nodded her head in understanding, her eyes and ears all open for Hunter’s next confession.
“I… I…”
Should he tell his friend this? Hunter started questioning himself again. Of course he should tell his friend. He debated with himself. He mentally kicked himself. Fern had always helped him in the past. She’d always been a shoulder to cry on if he passed or failed. For this current problem, she would help console him too. Yes, she’d help him out. With this thought, Hunter tried again.