“Then live separately.”
“That’s not the kind of marriage I want.”
“You’re almost thirty-five,” Kate reminded me. “Ticktock.”
Susie patted me on the back. “You’re not that old.”
“Grant travels so much, half the time, we don’t see each other anyway. But it still works.”
“I can’t have kids in that condition,” I protested, picking the pepperoni off my slice.
“Then get a dog.”
“You keep finding excuses not to be with him,” Susie pointed out. “If you really don’t want to, then don’t. But if you do, then you’ll find a way to make it work.”
* * *
DidI want to make it work? I had been so used to the pattern Hunter and I had had for years—flirt a bit, argue, he would claim he loved me, I would call him a liar and remind him that he had betrayed me, and I would never forgive him. To actually move forward—well, change was scary. I didn’t like change. I was a small-town girl. I liked everything to stay exactly how it had always been.
But when Hunter walked into my campaign office, it was like all of that fear and doubt melted away, and I just saw him, the man I loved and wanted to spend the rest of my life with, whatever that looked like.
“For you,” he said, brandishing a lush bouquet of pink and blush and champagne-colored flowers. He set them on my desk then kissed me. “And,” he added, “I brought lunch.”
“Cute! Bento boxes!”
“They’re from one of the pop-up shops in the Rural Trust headquarters,” he explained as I untied the ribbon on one of the bamboo boxes made from wood harvested on Ernest’s farm because that was how we rolled in Harrogate.
Hunter grinned at me.
“What?”
“I fucked you on that desk last night. And I kind of want to do it again.”
“Meg!” Frank greeted me from the doorway, making me jump.
Hunter was looking between us, a dark expression on his face.
I patted his hand.
“I finally have all the proper forms submitted to receive an accurate accounting of my financial information,” I told Hunter.
“It’s all about filing the correct paperwork,” Frank said, handing me a large file folder.
“Meg…” Hunter started to say. “I was going to show you, I promise.”
“No you weren’t,” I said lightly. “Just be honest.”
His mouth was a thin line as I opened the folder.
“Well,” Frank said, shuffling his feet. “Ah… I have to go back to work…”
“Did my house paperwork go through?” I asked him.
“Not yet,” he said, “but I’ll text you.”
Hunter let out a small growl.
“Er… email you? When it’s through.”
