“I’m sorry,” he says, picking up the box for me. “It wasn’t a criticism.”
“Sure.” I’ve had a barrage of insults and criticism from Hunter since we met. And I’m done. He’s cutting a little too close to the bone. The exhaustion I felt when I first arrived washes back over me in a wave. “Thanks for organizing the house. It really looks wonderful,” I say.
“Are you sure you want to leave? We can plan meals and transportation together. It doesn’t have to be separated by gender, especially since a lot of the guests are couples traveling together.”
“We can email to coordinate.”
Something flashes up on the TV, and we both turn to look. It’s a FaceTime call coming through. Somehow his cell has connected with the TV. Hunter pulls out his phone, but we’ve both seen that it isn’t his mom calling. It’s someone called Debbie, who has red lips and cleavage the size and depth of the Grand Canyon.
Just as I thought: Hunter’s a player. And a liar. And he’s happy for me to do all the grunt work while he gets kudos for snagging the house. In fairness, itisa really nice house. In the end, that’s all I needed from him. I can do the rest myself, while Hunter can do whatever it is he’s doing with Debbie.
“You should get that.” I nod toward the screen. “Looks like Mom really wants to chat.”
“That’s not my mom, silly. That’s my great-aunt Deborah,” he says on a laugh. Not even he thinks I’m falling for that one.
I have the urge to take a shower. God knows what I’ve picked up being in his apartment for as long as I have. I head toward the door, and Hunter follows, carrying my box. “I’ll bring it down and put it in the cab for you.” He’s trying to be nice, but despite finding the Vineyard house, I’ve seen who he is.
“I’m good,” I say, reaching to take it from him. But before I can take it, my cell rings. I pull it out of my pocket. It’s Katherine.
“Hi, Katherine,” I answer. “I’m just with Hunter, making arrangements for the party weekend.”
She squeals. I smile at my sister’s excitement. “And you’re getting along okay?” she asks.
“Absolutely. We’re best buds,” I say. Hunter raises his eyebrows in silent accusation.
“I can’t tell you how happy that makes me,” Katherine says. “When Ed and I have babies, you’re going to be the best auntie and uncle of all time.” I wonder what Katherine would think if she knew that sometimes Hunter found her irritating.
“Okay, well, call me later. We can catch up when you’re back home.”
“Totally,” I say. “And don’t worry. It’s all going to be perfect.”
Hunter shakes his head ominously. I hang up with Katherine and reach for my box again.
“Let’s just call a truce, okay?” I ask. “At least in front of my sister and Ed. Let’s agree that to make the most important people in our lives happy, we can pretend to get along.”
“Sure, Lucy,” he says, and I can’t quite read his tone. Maybe he’s being genuine. Whether he’s faking doesn’t really matter. I don’t want Katherine stressed that Hunter and I are at each other’s throats. She wants us to get along, so that’s what she’ll get. Even if we have to force it every step of the way.
He releases the box and opens his front door for me. I head back toward the elevator. I glance back at Hunter’s apartment. He’s got his arms crossed in front of him, leaning on the doorjamb, watching me. The T-shirt he’s wearing shows off his muscled arms, and I didn’t realizehis jeans hung from his hips like that. It’s almost obscene. He looks different from how he did in Massachusetts.
NotColin Firth had a baby with Matthew Macfadyenhot, but not bad.
“Thank you for getting me into a cab at the engagement party,” he calls out. “I could have really embarrassed myself there.”
“No problem,” I half shout. It’s a little too late to start thanking me for that. He’s only done it because he knows this time he’s pushed too far. It doesn’t matter. I’m going to try my best to fake it with him. It’s obviously important to Katherine.
Chapter Eight
Lucy
Katherine grabs my hand excitedly as we follow our mother into the wedding-dress boutique. I haven’t seen her dress yet, and I’m looking forward to getting a preview. Yes, it means I’ve had to leave Manhattan and come up to Massachusetts again, but Katherine really wanted me here. I get to try on my bridesmaid dress too.
“I really hope you like it,” Katherine says. “My dress as well as yours.”
“I’m sure I’ll love both,” I say. “You have fantastic taste.”
“It doesn’t matter what she thinks,” Mom says, bristling. “It’s a beautiful dress, and you look like a picture-perfect bride. And the bridesmaid dresses are fine.”
Katherine and I share a look. Mom seems a little more tense than usual today.
