by Celeste, B.
He blinks.
I blink.
He looks away for a moment, his jaw moving like his teeth are grinding a little. “Wow. I don’t know what to say to that.”
“Nothing. Tell me what you came here to tell me and then go. Please.” The last tidbit is spoken more quietly than the rest. I didn’t want to add it but do out of solidarity because I did spend basically half of my life with this man.
Hunter rakes a hand through his hair before dropping it to his side. “I…” His words fade, his eyes going behind me, then behind him like he’s looking for something. “I’m back at Fort Drum. I don’t know if you know that.”
I had heard that town gossip on my many visits back home to see my parents, but I don’t indulge him with that information. It isn’t like I actively seek out updates on him. Not anymore, at least.
When I don’t answer, he sighs. “Listen, I’m just going to come out with it. I’ve been hearing some rumors from some of my buddies. Guys still on base. Some who aren’t active duty anymore but keep in touch.”
Not liking where this is going, I grab ahold of the door and wait for him to tell me what it is he’s been hearing. His blue eyes darken like a storm at sea, his lips twitching, which tells me whatever it is he doesn’t like.
Too bad.
I repeat that to myself when he says, “Is it true that you’re seeing my old C.O.? Miller? Because when Moe told me—” I almost scoff when I hear Moe’s name mentioned, not shocked at all he’d be the one to spill the news to Hunter. He always did like gossiping about things that were never any of his business. “—I couldn’t believe it. There’s no way my wife would be hanging out at his house playing poker with him and his other buddies. You don’t even play cards. I told him that, but he just laughed at me. So did a few others who decided to tell me firsthand accounts that you were at his house more than once.”
My nostrils flare. My right eye twitches. The grip I have on the door, towel still in hand with it, makes my fingers turn white. “Ex,” I correct him.
“What?”
It physically hurts to reply, but I do it for myself. For my sanity and dignity. “You said ‘wife,’ but you meant ex-wife because we’re not married anymore. Remember? You served me divorce papers after telling me you weren’t happy and stopped loving me a long time ago.”
Hunter doesn’t say a word. No defense. No confirmation that we have the same recollection of the events that unraveled between us. Nothing.
It gives me the confidence to keep going. “In case you’re wondering, that also means you have no right to know anything about what I do with my free time or who I spend that time with. And the fact you still listen to Moe even though we both know that man can’t be trusted considering the bullshit he’s put people through because of his talk says a lot more about you than it does about me. So, who cares if I learned how to play poker? So what if I’m playing it at Fletcher’s house?”
This time, it’s his eye twitching. “What do you mean ‘so what’, Stevie—”
“No, Hunter. The fact of the matter is that we got a divorce. You fell out of love with me and completely shattered my heart when you told me it was over. You broke me. I gave you everything, and you still hurt me.” He has the decency to flinch over that. “So, why even bother coming here and asking if talk like that is true when it doesn’t matter?”
“Because it matters to me!”
“But why?” I demand, voice cracking. In anger. In frustration. In hurt that he’d show up like this, demanding answers. “Why would it matter to you if I spend time with him or another man? You don’t love me, Hunter. You stopped loving me a long time ago. Those were your words, not ones I’m putting in your mouth. So, please, enlighten me as to why I shouldn’t be pissed off that you’re here asking me for answers that you don’t deserve to know.”
His lips part to answer, then close. His throat bobs with his heavy swallow as his eyes do another dart behind me. “Because.”
That’s all I get? After everything we shared together, ‘because’ is his reply to me. “As much as I would love to stand and listen to you berate me, I have other things to do with my time. So, I think it’s time you—”
“Because I love you.” He blurts, his hand going back over his shaved head. “Christ, Stevie. How could I not? I’m always going to love you, just like you’ll always love me.”
Everything…freezes.
Maybe two years ago, those words would have meant something. They would have jumpstarted my dead heart and brought me back to life. But now… God, now they mean nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
“You don’t mean that,” I whisper.
“Of course, I do,” he answers, eyes rolling like I’m the one being ridiculous right now. “I’m not just saying that for no reason.”
“You are,” I disagree, my voice lighter than I would have expected it to be during this conversation. Calmer, somehow. “You heard that your first girlfriend, your first love, was seeing somebody else. It’s not fun. Trust me, Hunter, I’d know something about that.”
For a second time, he flinches.
“Yeah, I know about your escapades. Do you know that people told me not to think too much about it? They said you were just grieving in your own way. That ‘boys will be boys’ when it comes to getting over women. I had someone say that you’d get over that phase and change your mind. And the saddest part of all is that I hoped they were right. Even after I found out that you’d started seeing other women shortly after we separated, I hoped there’d come a day when you regretted your decision and would find your way back to me. That’s what the saying is, isn’t it? If they love you, they’ll always come back?”
Hunter stays quiet, his eyes full of pain and maybe even a little bit of guilt knowing I know what he’s done.
“So, is it really fair for you to come here and tell me you don’t like that I’m seeing somebody?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”
I laugh, but the sound is short. “You didn’t need to. It’s in your tone. In the way you look at me like you don’t know who I am. You moved on and do whatever you want, so why can’t I? There’s no reason.”
“Because I—”
I cut him off, my patience nonexistent the longer he keeps this up. “No. Don’t you dare say it, Hunter Nathan Cross. You do not love me, and you’re not allowed to stand here on my doorstep, on my property, and tell me that I love you too. I’m not naïve enough for you to control what I think, feel, and do anymore, but good try. God help the next woman you charm into thinking that’s okay.”
His eyes widen at my sharp tone.
“If that’s all you had to say to me, you should leave. I appreciate your honesty, or what you think is honesty, but I’m done hearing it. We live two separate lives now. We’re both free to do whatever we want with them.”
I want nothing more than to close the door on him, but I don’t. Not even when he opens his mouth again and keeps this up. Because like before, he doesn’t listen.
Doesn’t hear me.
Doesn’t want to.
So, when he does speak, it’s even harder to digest the words. “But him? I knew you’d move on eventually, but does it have to be him of all people?”
I close my eyes, my energy drained from this endless cycle he’s putting me through that obviously isn’t going anywhere. “What do you want from me, Hunter? Because last I heard, you’ve been living your own life however you want without me having a say in it. You don’t see me butting in, do you? You don’t know anything about what’s going on in mine. You’ve been standing here for five minutes and haven’t so much as asked how I am or anything that shows you really care, much less love me like you want me to believe you do. Like I’ve already told you, you lost that right when you gave me those papers.”
His hands go to his hair. “I just…”
The sigh I release is heavy, tired. “I’m not saying anything is going on with Fletcher, but even if there was, what
right do you have to have a say in it? Did you really think I’d pine for you forever, hoping you’d change your mind? Praying you’d realize you wanted more with me? I wasn’t going to wait around for you.”
Though, to some degree, I did. I’d just never admit to him how long or how badly I had wanted him to show up at my parents and beg for forgiveness. I needed to keep some of my dignity.
“Have you suddenly changed your mind?” I pry, not relenting. “Do you want children?”
He looks pained. Maybe even a little nauseous if the coloring of his face is any indication. “No…”
“Do you think you’ll ever change your mind about that? Because that’s a dealbreaker for me. I haven’t let go of that dream to be a mother just because you tried making me.”
“No.”
“Then what do you want, Hunter? Tell me.”
Finally, he sighs. A heavy, burdened, but also relenting sigh. “I want you to be happy. Always.”
My face softens at the words I know he means, so I give them right back with the same sincerity. “I want that for you too.”
We stare at each other.
He murmurs, “I’m sorry.”
I’m not sure for what, but when he looks me in the eye, I realize it’s for everything. He’s sorry for it all. Hurting me. Dragging me along.
“I forgive you.”
And just like that, a huge, heavy weight has been lifted off me.
“You should probably go,” I add just as quietly as I spoke before.
He looks like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t. He gives me what I want, maybe for the first time, by nodding, taking a step back, and then another.
Until he turns around and walks away.
This time, I don’t cry.
I find myself watching him leave in a blue car that looks even more expensive than the old one he loved so much and lift a hand to wave him off. Whether he returns it or not, I don’t know because I’m about to close the door when two figures start walking up the pathway from the sidewalk.
“Hi, Ms. Foster!” Nicki greets, waving sporadically with Admiral barking and jumping at his hyper friend.
Fletcher’s eyes are on the taillights disappearing down the street before turning back to me as they stop a few feet from the door.
“Hi,” I tell them, smiling down at my student before my gaze lifts to his father.
It’s the smallest of them that says, “That man had the same haircut as my dad.”
The smile is small, but there, when I nod in confirmation. “Yeah, it was. He’s in the military.”
“Is that the friend you mentioned before?”
I have to think about it because I’m not sure what he’s talking about at first. But I vaguely remember the conversation he’s talking about that ended with him calling Hunter lame.
It makes me want to laugh. “Yeah, that’s him,” I confirm, looking to Fletcher. His jaw is ticking, but he doesn’t say anything as he glances back down the street where Hunter’s car went. I clear my throat. “I’ve known Hunter for a very long time. He was just stopping by to…talk.”
The new set of eyes on me tells me I’ll need to explain what that talk was about in more depth, which I already planned to do later.
“If you’ve known him for a long time, why aren’t you with him instead of being alone?”
Too surprised by Nicki’s question, I flatten my hand against my shirt while trying to gather my reply.
Fletcher palms his son’s shoulder. “You can’t ask those sorts of things.”
“It’s okay,” I tell him. “The truth is, Nicki, I was with him at one point. Things change, though. People change. Sometimes they grow apart, that’s all.”
“Do you love him?”
Fletcher groans at his son.
“Well…” I make a face, trying to figure out the line I’m crossing by discussing this with a student. It’s a fine one considering my relationship with his father. Or sort of relationship with him. If we make it work, it isn’t like I won’t be seeing more of Dominic in the future anyway, so there are things I’m sure he’d find out with time anyway.
When he doesn’t get a reply, Nicki keeps going innocently. “Does he not love you anymore, and that’s why you’re alone?”
Fletcher blanches. “Jesus, Dominic.”
“What?”
I press my lips together for a minute before offering Nicki a small shrug and thinking back to what Hunter said. “I think we’ll both always love each other to some degree, but there’s a lot of different kinds of love out there.”
The child thinks about it. “I guess I get it. Mom says she loves Dad but not the way she loves Jacob. Plus, Mom said Dad really likes you, so that means you can’t like anyone else anyway. Especially not another guy.”
The snort comes out before I can hold it in as my eyes go from the shorter Miller to the much, much taller one.
And…his face is red.
Fletcher’s blushing.
Domonic shrugs. “I like you too, so I guess that’s okay.”
He guesses that’s… I swallow. “Thank you for telling me that,” is all I can come up with, my voice a little hoarser than I mean it to be. “Do you know what I was thinking, Nicki?”
His head shakes.
“I was thinking that I’d like to get that dog we talked about, and I could really use your help if you’re still interested.”
His face blossoms with light and excitement as his eyes dart to his dad. “Can we go to the pet store?”
I laugh at his urgency, and even Fletcher chuckles. But when those dark orbs go from his son to me, he says, “I think that’s a good idea.”
“Yeah?”
His chin dips before those eyes go back to the road again. “Yeah. A dog will keep away unwanted guests.”
I blink.
Blink again.
Stare.
Fletcher’s tone tells me one thing.
He’s jealous.
And I…
In a weird way, I sort of like it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
When lunch comes, I’m about to go to the teacher’s lounge to get the salad I’d put in the fridge this morning when a familiar figure appears at my door holding a cardboard cup holder with two Styrofoam to-go cups in it and a brown paper bag hanging from his wrist with my favorite local diner’s logo on the front.
“Have time for me?” he asks, holding up the drinks. “Brought your favorite hot chocolate.”
I perk up. “Always. Come in. I was about to go grab my lunch.”
He sets the bag on my desk. “I grabbed some for us if you don’t mind having lunch with me. Got the chicken wrap you said you liked the last time we were there. But if you want—”
“That sounds perfect.” Before I think about it, I peck his lips and smile. My hand touches his arm before I help him take out the to-go containers labeled with a black sharpie to indicate which is which. I can smell the burger in his before he even opens it after grabbing a chair and putting it beside mine.
After walking home from the pet store, where I didn’t find anything I was ready to buy despite Nicki trying to convince me that the pug puppies looked lonely like me, Fletcher and I had a long talk. Nicki was playing with Admiral and the toy I’d bought their dog in my yard, when I’d turned to the man watching his world through the glass who’d said, “You don’t need to tell me what happened.”
When he pinned me with those intense eyes and added a quiet but firm, “I trust you,” I knew I had to tell him.
Because he didn’t expect it.
Because he trusted me.
So, I gave him a condensed version of my conversation with Hunter, watched him make faces at my ex’s lacking admissions before touching his arm and saying, “Being let go by him was the best thing he could have done for me. It took meeting you to realize that.”
Then, I’d kissed him.
Held his hand.
Felt his breath mingle with mine until he straightened
and admitted, “Relieved to hear that, honey.”
He was worried about Hunter. More specifically, he was worried about me going back to him. So, I knew then I’d have to show him in any way possible that he has nothing to worry about.
Watching him pass me a napkin and then my hot chocolate, which smells like the sweet, salted caramel I love getting a little too often, I can’t help but wonder what he must have thought when he saw Hunter standing at my door. He told me Dominic is the one who noticed him first. It didn’t take long for Fletcher to realize who it was, even only seeing his back.
Hunter is like that, I guess.
Noticeable.
Memorable.
That doesn’t matter now, though. Both men know where I stand. I’ll always carry some weight over me when it comes to my past, but I won’t let it bury me anymore.
“How do you feel about a movie night?” he asks, eyes flicking up and scoping out my face as he dresses up his burger.
I think about it for only a moment before giving him my honest answer. “I think I’d like that. Will Nicki be there?”
His head dips. “I talked to him when we got home.” He pauses for a moment, wiping off his fingers with a napkin. “About us.”
Dominic hasn’t said a word to me about it. He’s been the same Nicki he usually is in class. During third period, I saw him staring at a familiar blue marble before putting it back into his pocket. During fourth, right before lunch, I’d seen him talking to the aide and even smiling a little at the kind older woman he’s warmed up to.
“What does he think about this?” Us.
Fletcher leans back in his chair. “He said the same thing to me that he told you. He likes you, Peaches. I don’t think he really has another opinion other than that one.”
My tongue drags across my bottom lip as I pick up a fry from the Styrofoam container and dip it into the ketchup from his. “Do you think he’ll be okay with things…progressing?”
Fletcher’s eyes heat. “I think once he sees how happy we are, he’ll have no reason not to be.” I swallow air as he pins me with that fiery gaze. “I meant what I said, Stevie. He’s okay with this. He has no reason to feel otherwise.”
