He chuckled, his eyes crinkling endearingly. “I guess this means we’ll have to cook for each other more often, eh?”
I would love that. “I guess so, Hunt.”
We continued eating and listening to the podcast, comparing our theories and reacting to the plot twists in this episode.
In the midst of it all, I was struck with the realization that perhaps this was how real love should feel like. Calm, easy, and fun. Not the version I had with Franco, which felt like a dark thorn prickling into my side, creating a wound that got infected and festered with pus, bringing forth nothing but hardship and misery.
I imagined this was how the beginning of truly falling in love with someone felt like. And oddly enough, the thought didn’t scare me as much as it would have weeks ago before I met this wonderful man under the light of a full moon.
Once dinner was complete, I insisted on washing the dishes while Hunter dried. Luna sat by our feet, listening to us talk about anything and everything under the sun with a curious expression.
Afterwards, Hunter gave me a tour of his apartment. Black, navy, dark wood and copper accents comprised the colour palette. The furniture and décor were sleek, masculine. Moreover, I made a mental note of what books rested on his shelves so I could binge a few. He started reading paranormal romances because of me and I wanted to immerse myself in his favourite literature too.
Finally, we stood in his hallway, appraising the framed photos lining the wall like an art museum. There were various shots of his family, a testament to how much he loved them. His mom, Hannah, and his older sister, Heidi, were beautiful in a modelesque manner. And his dad, Kyle, had harboured a classic handsomeness that you didn’t always find in today’s world. The genes in this family were stunning.
My favourite picture was the one where Hunter was five years old with a bright, toothy grin on his adorable face and cradled in his dad’s arms, holding on to a ball python.
“You’re so cute!” I said. “Now I see where you get your good looks from. You’re literally a carbon copy of your dad. You have the same blue eyes and long hair.”
Hunter’s eyes shone fondly. “He used to call me his twin.”
I clasped his hand in mine. “Will you tell me something about him? A memory, an anecdote, anything you wish to share.”
He stared at the picture and mulled over my request. “My dad was the most amazing person I knew. He was my best friend and my hero. Some men are mama’s boys, but I can safely say that I was a daddy’s boy.”
My face softened at that last tidbit.
“You know when you’re asked that question as a kid, ‘What do you want to be when you’re older’? My answer was always my dad. He taught me how to play football, how to be brave, how to stand up for myself, how to be kind, and so many other things. Some people on this earth feel like they’re heaven-sent angels, and I was convinced my dad was one.” Hunter draped an arm around my shoulders, roping me into his side. I hugged him back, sensing he needed comfort. “I aspire to be at least half the man he was. Growing up, I mimicked everything he did.” He smiled wryly. “I even went as far as wearing my hair just like him. My dad had great hair and always took care of it. During chemo, when it began to fall out, I knew it pained him. He remained optimistic that it would grow back one day, once he got better. So I got this idea—something that I believed would bring him joy—and started growing out mine. Eventually, it was long enough that Heidi and my mom took me to a hairdresser. We chopped off my strands, sent it to a professional perruquier, and she made a wig from the hair. I’ll never forget the look on my dad’s face when we gifted it to him.” Hunter released a bone-weary sigh. “He cried and…only got to wear it for a day before he passed away.”
My eyes welled with tears and my chest tightened with awe-like emotions.
Hunter’s gaze was fixed ahead on a particular photo of him with hair way past his shoulders and curled next to his dad on the sofa, glancing up at him with unabashed hero-worship. The latter looked tired and weak, a far cry from the strong, robust man in the previous shots. But he still had the most radiant smile. As if even cancer couldn’t dim his spark. Kyle Warren must have been a lovely man.
“I’d do anything to have him back,” Hunter said. “Grief really is like a shadow that follows you constantly. Some days you see it. Some days you don’t. But you always feel its presence. I don’t think one truly stops mourning a dead parent, though it does get easier with time.” He stared down at me and jolted, his expression melting. “Oh, baby.” He kissed the tear trailing down my cheek. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“I can’t help it. I’m sad for you.” I sniffled. “I’m so sorry you lost him. For what it’s worth, regardless of whether you chose to have a storied career in football or follow in his footsteps and become a lawyer, your dad would be so proud of the man you turned out to be, Hunt.”
He wrapped me into his arms for a tight hug. Despite him trying to appear unaffected on the outside, I noticed a light tremor course through his body. “Thank you, Gabby.”
“What did we say about the T-word?” I playfully bit out, my voice muffled against his bare chest.
His smile feathered over my hairline. “All right. Enough walking down memory lane. Let’s go put on that movie, hm?”
“Are you going to hold my hand through it?”
He chuckled. “Yours and Luna’s.”
My insides warmed. “Sounds good.”
Hunter cupped my face, stroking his thumbs over my cheeks. “I appreciate you asking me about my dad.”
“I liked hearing about him. Anytime you want to talk about your memories, I’ll lend an ear.” I toyed with the silver chain around his neck, not meeting his eyes. “I want to be there for you in every way possible.”
A strand of his hair escaped from his low bun and fell across his face. I pushed it back, and he grabbed my hand and kissed my palm lines. “Likewise, Gabby.”
The future may be uncertain, but I looked forward to what the universe had in store for Hunter and me.
I hoped it was nothing but good things.
