by Gina Kincade
"She won't say no to that, will she?" Hunter asks his brother.
Unsure, Jay inhales and exhales deeply. "There's only one way to find out."
BRIGHT AND EARLY, SHE hears clanging outside of her bedroom door. Bee reaches over to her bedside table and grabs her phone. 6:30 am. What is Hunter up to now?
Ever since Sunday night, she can tell that he's been trying to make up for his mistake. Although she has insisted that it didn't matter to her. They are unattached, except for the being the parents of the being in her belly. But a lot of people share custody of their children without being involved with each other. Day after day, she sees the files piling on her desk, proof that even divorced people can be good parents. She can very well be part of the statistic.
For days Hunter has been more attentive, without being suffocating. On Monday, an arrangement of white tulips arrived at her desk first thing in the morning, with a card saying, "I'm Sorry -H". When she came home that night, after a long and tiring day, she found a note on the fridge door saying that dinner was in the oven, followed by directions on how to re-heat the vegetarian lasagna. Tuesday morning, her breakfast waited beside a prepared lunch, which she has taken to work. And when she got there, the white tulips were replaced with blue hyacinths. After a quick search, she discovered that the flowers represent peace. The card read, "I was wrong -H".
But Blanche has been weary of such actions. How many times did Perry send her dozens of white roses after he's done something wrong? Every single time, she forgave him, until the day that he stopped apologizing, and started...Bee shakes her head every time the memories come flooding back.
She looks at the suitcase she has brought with her a month and a half ago to live with Hunter. It won't take her long to put everything she owns back into it. Somehow, somewhere in the recesses of her mind, a voice tells her, asks her to give Hunter one last chance. Instinctively, Bee rubs her burgeoning stomach.
Hunter continues cooking day after day for the whole week. Breakfast, lunch, dinner and even snacks, in case she gets peckish. Aside from the cards, which came with different flowers—white orchids on Wednesday and Yellow Roses on Thursday—expressing some kind of apology, and the directions for heating her meals, Hunter hasn't communicated with her. He didn't call or text, or wait until she was up to talk. He still came to check in on her every night.
Last night, Blanche knew that he has come home much later than usual. By the sound of his footsteps, he was exhausted. Maybe the covert cooking has finally gotten to him. It can also be the reason why on Friday morning, he is making more noise than usual.
Jay has been quiet about his brother's behavior too. Blanche has asked her boss a few times and Jay either laughed or shrugged as a reply. Blanche figured the brothers were both in on it. Bee thought of calling Mare, but decided against it. When she told Trisha what has been happening, her friend told her to ride the waves. "He's trying. That's a good thing, Bee," Trisha has imparted.
After hearing a loud crash, she decides to get up and find out what Hunter is doing. She finds him in the kitchen, muttering to himself in front of the stove. The sunlight brightens the apartment, and Bee finds it hard to look away from Hunter's naked back. All he has on is a pair of butt-hugging boxer briefs. She suddenly finds herself parched.
Hormones, she blames it on her hormones.
"What are you doing?"
Hunter jumps at the sound of her voice, and turns, holding a small pot and a spoon. Tilting her head up, Bee tries to keep her eyes on Hunter, ignoring anything below the waistband of those boxer briefs, which leave very little to the imagination.
"Good morning." He offers her a lazy smile.
That smile, the tattoo over taut muscles, the too-small underwear, and whatever tantalizing smell is coming from the pot he's stirring, have rendered her speechless. Her mouth salivates for the food and its cook. Bee grasps the front panels of her silk pajamas, aware that she isn't wearing a bra and her nipples have hardened at the sight before her.
"Damn hormones," she says under her breath.
"I'm making waffles with raspberry coulis." Hunter lifts the pot before returning it on the stove.
She didn't even realize they have a waffle maker.
"I picked up a waffle maker yesterday. Thought I'd give it a try this morning," Hunter says, as though he's read her mind. "I meant to wake up earlier but I guess I overslept."
This is her chance to make him come clean. There has to be a reason. It's over the top, what he's done the entire week. Bee walks toward the countertop where the waffle maker is placed.
"What's all this about, Hunter?" She sounds bitter.
He keeps stirring, switching his weight from one leg to the other. Bee watches as a drop of sweat trails from the top of his head down to the side of his face. He swings an arm up to swipe at it.
"Just making you waffles."
"Hunter, stop. This is too much. The meals, the flowers, the cards...everything. Why don't you just tell me what you want?" Bee steps a little closer to him, careful not to take a deep inhale, lest she wants to absorb the sweet-tangy smell of raspberry paired with musky-salty scent of a man.
Sighing, Hunter shuts off the stove and replaces the pot on another element. With a finger, he scoops a dollop of the coulis and sticks it in his mouth.
Why does Blanche find that so sensual?
Hunter faces her, scratching the side of his beard-covered chin. The muscles of his arm bulges as he does the action. He plasters on his most boyish look, and says, "I want to say sorry for Sunday night. It will never happen again."
Blanche takes her eyes away from his biceps and pecs and forces herself to focus on his face. "Fine. All's forgiven. You don't have to slave over the stove for it."
Hunter sighs heavily again. "And I'd like you to meet my parents."
Chapter Sixteen
Laughter fills the other line.
"It's not funny, Trish. He's serious about it." Bee holds her phone between her ear and her shoulder, while she stirs sugar into her decaf.
"It's a little funny. You've got to admit it," Trisha cackles between words.
What Hunter has dropped on her isn't anything she expected. What is she supposed to say? Glancing through Jay's calendar, she finds a full week crossed off. It's the week of their parents' anniversary. Mr. and Mrs. Peters are planning to renew their vows, and they want all their children to attend, including spouses, significant others, and baby mama. Her. It's not for another month and a half. Plenty of time to find an excuse not to go, but since she works for Jay...
"Do I go? Do I really need to be there?"
Trisha stops laughing enough to answer her friend, "It's all up to you, Bee. I certainly would."
"Really?"
"Yeah, I want to know where the hell Hunter came from. Aren't you little bit curious? Maybe you'll even find out if there are any health history you need to worry about, like a sixth toe or something."
"A sixth toe? Trisha, be serious."
Her friend lowers her voice. "I am serious. Do you know how hard it would be for your child of she or he decides to become a dancer, with a sixth toe?"
"Wouldn't that help with balance?"
"Ahm...I don't know. Let me look through my contacts and find out who has a sixth toe."
Bee rolls her eyes at her friend's attempt at a joke. However, she suspects that Trish will indeed call all her dancer friends and ask each one to count their toes. "Whatever else I need to find out about history, I can ask Jay or Mare."
"Or Hunter."
No, she wouldn't ask him. Yes, Bee is physically attracted to the man, who wouldn't be? The guy is built like a tank. His muscles have muscles. And he has quite a package. Bee curses her hormones again. It's easy to blame it on that. But to have a relationship with a man is more than finding him sexy as hell.
She doesn't know what his IQ is. She knows he reads a lot by the amount of books in the apartment, which was quite a surprise for her when she saw them. Bee hasn't ventured
into his bedroom. She's taken a peek once through tiny crack of the door, and saw paintings and sketches all over the walls. If she takes a guess, he has turned his studio into a bedroom. There are no signs of smoking. She knows he drinks, but even the bottles in the fridge haven’t been touched. It doesn't mean he doesn't drink outside. Maybe that's why he comes home at three in the morning. Bee shudders at the possible state of his liver. Alcoholism isn't a genetic condition. Neither is being an a-hole.
Blanche hears a thumping in her ear. "Geez Trish!"
"You're the one who stopped talking. I can hear you breathing on the line. You're thinking of him, aren't you?"
Blanche feels the blush creep up her neck. "Oh would you look at that! An email! Sorry Trish, I better go back to work."
"No, Bee..."
She ends the call and sits back on her chair. Blanche didn't lie. There is an email waiting for her, from another firm, which represents the soon-to-be-ex spouse of one of Jay's clients. She reads through it and wonders if the pregnancy brain she has read about has hit her. The opposing firm is asking for a file she's sure she has sent weeks ago.
Jay is out for the morning meetings. Bee can't very well ask her boss about something she's responsible for. She pushes away from the desk, sliding her chair back, when she feels it.
A tickle? A flutter?
Bee pauses and breathes slowly. She carefully places a hand over her stomach, and jolts as she feels it again.
A kick. A bump. A movement.
A deep emotion overwhelms her, forces tears from her eyes. Her baby just moved. The very first one she's experienced. She looks around in the empty office. How she wishes she could share this moment with someone. Even more shocking, she wishes she could share it with Hunter.
"WHAT DID IT FEEL LIKE?" Even if she can't see her, Bee knows that Mare is smiling from ear to ear.
Blanche tried calling Trisha, only to hear her voicemail click on. She tapped a text for Hunter but she didn't press send. She knew Jay was busy, but Mare was at home. So she called Mare.
"I don't know, like butterflies in my belly?"
"Yeah, I say that's the baby. It's the best feeling ever. Aw, I miss those. They're probably the best parts of my pregnancies. Have you told Hunter?"
Bee clings to her phone, unsure of how to answer the question. Should she really call and tell him? Or actually send that text? What will he say? How will he react?
A beep drags her back to the phone call. "Oh, hold on, Blanche, I have another call."
While she waits, Bee wonders if telling Hunter will make a difference in their relationship. It isn't like he can actually feel the baby move. She barely felt it and was somewhat unsure. But that single moment, she did wish he was around.
Mare returns to their conversation in a huff. "Sorry, Bee, I have to go. My little guy threw up at a teacher. I'm telling you, enjoy your vomit-free state now. That will change fast. And oh, make sure you come on Sunday for dinner! It's Hunter's birthday. I'm not taking no for an answer. Bye!"
"Okay, bye." Before she can say anything else, Blanche hears a click on the other line.
Hunter's birthday? He's never mentioned anything about it. Would he want her there? Does he have any idea Mare would invite her?
She feels another flutter in her belly, and she tickles it with a finger. Then Bee hears the swing of their outside door. It can very well be Jay, back for a while in between meetings for lunch. It's almost noon and they're not expecting any clients that day. Unless if it's a new client looking to make an appointment. Although unlikely, with technology advancing communications these days, she rarely sees a client one on one. There are enough emails or texts and phone calls to fill her days.
The smile she spreads on her face turns into a frown and confusion when Red walks into the office.
"Hi," the statuesque redhead greets her. She's wearing the same black shirt and black jeans she's seen her in that first time.
Bee straightens her back against the chair. "Mr. Peters isn't here this morning, would you like to make an appointment?"
Red stuffs her hands into her skinny jeans pocket. "No, I came here to see you." She offers Blanche a smile.
Curious, Bee lets an eyebrow quirk. "Me? Why?"
"I was hoping I can take you out for lunch. I sent a message to Jason to let him know. Of course, he said it's up to you." Red doesn't make another move toward Bee's desk. She stands in front of her, chewing on her bottom lip.
This should be interesting, Blanche thinks. Red seems almost nervous around her. She doesn't owe Red anything, not even a yes to lunch. And Blanche can pretty much gauge that she's here to vouch for Hunter. Everyone, even her friend Trisha, wants Blanche and Hunter to at least get along. Is that why Red is here too? There's only one way to find out, she decides.
Bee picks up her purse and stands. "I have an hour."
"That's perfect. Thank you," Red says and follows her out the door.
Chapter Seventeen
Red. The woman is an enigma to Blanche. However she has viewed Red the first time they met at Red Ink Studio with Hunter seems like a different person to who is sitting right across from her. Red struck her as a confident and independent woman. From what Trisha has told her, Red is involved with one of the most powerful bachelors in NYC. Yet, she appears to be too comfortable and cozy with Hunter. Is it truly just friendship between them or something more? There is only one way to find out.
"Are you in love with Hunter?"
Red, who has just sipped from her glass of water, sputters a bit and coughs. "I'm sorry..." Liquid drips down her chin. She dabs at it with a napkin.
Blanche regards her, unwilling to show any emotions. "Well, are you?" The beauty with the fiery hair pops her mouth open, but Blanche feels empowered. "I think you are, and it's a real shame that you're hurting him, since he considers you as a very close old friend. You should be ashamed of yourself."
There. That should bring down the beauty a notch.
"I'm not in love with Hunter." Bee has expected a more derisive tone coming from Red, but it's not what she receives. Red's voice is even and gentle. "I care for him a lot but I'm not and never have been in love with him."
"That's a bitchy thing to say." Blanche folds her arms over her chest.
Red blinks in disbelief. "Blanche..." She props her arms over the table, threading her fingers together. "We might have gotten off the wrong foot. I came to see you to apologize for my behavior. Hunter is very dear to me. He's like the brother I never had." Red places a hand over her heart. "What I did, how I reacted when you met me was wrong. I get it now."
Blanche snorts, but it doesn't stop Red from continuing, "Before you came in, Peter...Hunter just told me the good news, that he's to become a father, and I was thrilled. I've never seen him so happy in all the years I've known him. You have given him that, and it's not anything I can ever offer him."
"Still doesn't mean you don't have feelings for him." Why Blanche insists on this is unbeknownst to her. Where she finally finds the courage to speak her mind is a result of years of suppressing it. Ever since she can remember, she has never been given a chance to express her opinions. Is what she's saying to Red necessary? Does it make sense? She's not entirely sure. All she knows, and she hates to admit it, is that Hunter deserves better than to be treated the way Red has tested him.
But what of Blanche's own treatment to him?
Sure, he's cooked for her, and his dishes have been exceptionally good, and he has sent her flowers of apologies. But he had a motive.
Meet his parents? Was he kidding?
"Are you ready to order?" A server approaches their table and distracts her from her musings.
Red smiles at her and waves for Bee to go first.
"I'll have the soup."
"Same for me," Red says, handing the server their menus.
When the man leaves, Red focuses on Bee. "Do you even like Hunter?" She doesn't come off as bitchy, but a bit curious, for sure.
"I don't think
that's any of your business." Bee looks away, absent-mindedly rubbing her belly.
"You're right, but I just hope you give him a chance. There's a reason why we stayed friends. There's a reason why I trust him, Blanche. He's one of a kind. He's caring and sweet. Sure he's a bit of a player..."
"A bit? I caught him with a girl in our apartment." Bee's tone sounds rather nasty, but the words are out of her lips before she can contain them.
"Oh, I didn't know that."
"Yeah." And since her tongue is already loose, she keeps going, "I thought she was you."
Her companion's eyes cloud over. "Me? I haven't been to his apartment for years. I think maybe since he moved in there. I can't believe he would do that."
"I guess you don't know him that well."
Red shakes her head, with a far away look on her face. "No, that can't be right. I know he can be a bit..."
"Flirty? A horndog?"
Red displays shock on her face. It's gone before Bee notices. "Yeah, absolutely, but I've never known him to hurt anyone's feelings."
Their server returns and places their bowls of soup on the table. Red politely declines any other offers. To Blanche, she hints at being boggled over something. Another secret perhaps?
Blanche returns to her earlier thoughts. "You know that Hunter is in love with you, and you're engaged to someone else, why do you keep him around when you know it will hurt him?"
The steam from the hot soup rises to Red's face as she leans forward, keeping eye contact with Blanche. "I didn't know until I started dating Wolfe, my fiancé. I thought Hunter knew that I'd never considered us like that. As I said, he's like a brother to me."
"You've never even tried?"
"No," Red replies quietly, looking down at her soup.
"Then why are you asking me to try when I've known him less than you?"
Red squirms on her seat. "Because he's different with you."
