Then I’m fine.
Seraphina
See you at six.
Hunter
Sleep well.
Seraphina
You too.
I set the phone back in its charger and climbed into bed, suddenly weary. Was I making a mistake? Would this scandal affect my own career, if it came out that Hunter and I were romantically involved? I had my own reputation to protect. Romance readers had no tolerance for cheaters. They might not like this at all.
With that worrisome thought, I rolled onto my side and closed my eyes, hoping sleep would come easily, but I lay there for quite some time. Finally I drifted away, dreaming I was naked at a book signing.
The doorbell rangat six o’clock exactly, followed by Tyler’s footsteps. I was standing at my bedroom mirror doing a final check. So happy to find a salon open on a Sunday, I’d popped into it for a blow out, so it was a stellar hair day. My green chiffon dress had a halter neck and a layered skirt that moved when I walked. I’d bought it for a cocktail party in L.A. after I signed the Netflix deal. It had made me feel confident that night. I hoped it would do the same tonight.
I heard the front door open and Tyler’s voice carrying up the stairs.
“Hey, Hunter. Come in. Mom will be down in a minute.”
A pause. Hunter’s voice, lower, the words indistinct from up here.
I picked up my clutch, took one more look in the mirror, and decided this was as good as it was going to get.
Hunter was standing in my front hallway in a navy jacket and a white shirt open at the collar, a bunch of pale pink peonies in one hand and something smaller in the other.
I came down the stairs slowly, careful in my heels.
“Hi,” I said, when I reached the bottom.
“Hey.” His voice was a little lower than usual. His eyes moved over me once, briefly, before coming back to my face. “Now that’s a dress.”
“She never dresses up unless she has a signing or a party,” Tyler said to Hunter, as if to emphasize how special it was that I’d done so for Hunter.
“She looks good in anything,” Hunter said, his gaze still on me.
“Have you seen her in the yellow writing sweater?” Tyler asked.
“If anyone could pull it off, it’s your mom.”
“Thank you.” Warmth traveled to my cheeks. “You look very nice yourself.”
Hunter held out the bouquet. “These are for you.”
“They’re beautiful. Thank you.” I took them and promptly handed them off to Tyler.
“I’ll put them in a vase for you, Mom.”
“I brought something for you too,” he said, turning to Tyler. He handed him a small flat package—a card with guitar strings tucked inside. “These are the brand I use. They’re the best they make.”
Tyler looked down at them. “These are for real players.”
“You’re ready for them,” Hunter said.
Tyler looked up, grinning. “Thanks. I’ll put them on and practice tonight.”
