"I mean, here I am in this role, writing this story, but I have a hidden agenda. It just makes me feel like maybe I am no better than Patrick was when he was trying to use me to get close to?—"
"Stop right now, okay? He sucked. You're not pretending to be in love with the Waverlys. You're doing a job, and you’re doing it well. Sure, maybe you have a second reason for being here, but that's life."
"I guess I just don't really know if I feel right about it."
"Girl, you're a good person, and that is why I think you should not feel guilty." She pauses as we hear footsteps, and we watch as Enid and Preston walk into the kitchen.
"Oh, hi, Mr. and Mrs. Waverly. This is my best friend, Emma. She's come to help prepare dinner."
"So good to see you, Emma. You probably don't remember me. I was good friends with your grandmother back in the day, and I remember meeting you as a baby."
"I didn't even know we'd met before," Emma says with a small smile. "But I'm more than happy to help tonight. Gina is my best friend, and she's not much of a cook, and well, when she said she had to make this dinner, I wanted to make sure it wentwell for everyone." I look up at the Waverlys guiltily, worried they think I'd been complaining.
"I'm excited for you both to meet our grandson." Preston beams at me.
"Oh, I am really excited to meet him, as well," I say. Which is the most honest I’ve been in a while.
"Enid, why don't you go and get him. This party is for him, after all. We're celebrating how—” Enid gives him a look, and he shakes his head.
"Oops, he doesn't want us to talk about it." Preston looks thoughtful. “It’s a joyous occasion, though. It's very important to Enid that we protect him and his secret." He presses his finger to his lips.
"Let me go and get him," Enid says. I can feel my heart racing in excitement. I look over at Emma, and I can see the glee in her eyes, as well.
"Let me add some oil and vinegar to the salad," I say as I head to the pantry.
"Don't forget the freshly grated black pepper, as well," she reminds me.
"Don't worry, boss. I won't." I giggle and head into the pantry. I feel like I’m floating in the air. I’m so excited I can barely breathe. I wonder if their grandson will be as eccentric as they are. I look around for the apple cider vinegar and olive oil and grab them off the shelves. I feel at peace for the first time since being in the house. I head back into the kitchen, and I immediately stop when I see Hunter standing there.
I want to groan and ask him what he's doing there, but I have to be polite. I need to be in the moment and focused on the Waverlys’ grandson, not focused on Hunter and his chiseled jawline. I look over at Emma, and she's grinning at me. I wonder if she knows that this is Hunter, the man I have a crush on and can't seem to get out of my mind.
"Oh, there you are, darling." Enid hurries into the kitchen. "I was looking for you."
"You were?" Hunter looks over at her, and I wonder if she's going to ask him to do some gardening now. Maybe she needs some fresh roses or something.
“Yes. I wanted to introduce you to Gina and her best friend, Emma."
"We've met. At least, I've met Gina." Hunter grins and looks over at me. He gives Emma a small nod.
"I'm assuming you're Emma."
"Hi. Yeah, I am Emma Bond. I'm Gina's best friend."
"Ah, yes, your voice sounds familiar. You’re dog poop girl."
She bursts out laughing.
"What are you talking about?" Preston asks with a frown.
"Nothing that you would want to hear about," Hunter says with a grin. For a few seconds, I’m confused. Enid is now touching the side of Hunter's back, and Preston is staring at him with an adoring expression on his face. My heart beats rapidly, and I feel like I'm turning a pale white. Have I gotten this wrong? I suddenly feel faint.
"Hunter," Enid says. "They're making the most delicious meal for you tonight."
"We are? What?" I say softly, glancing at Enid.
"You're making a delicious meal for Hunter, for his celebration."
"Hunter'scelebration?" I repeat stupidly. Time feels like it has gone into slow motion, and the earth feels unsteady beneath my feet.
