“That sounds perfect, Doc.”
Behind him, one of the workers whistles. Luke’s grinning like an idiot. I should be embarrassed, but all I feel is relief.
“Good.” I reach up, brush sawdust from his shoulder just to touch him. “Don’t be late.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
I turn to leave, and that’s when I see Derek Chen standing near the office door, watching us. He’s backlit by the office fluorescents, his polo crisp and unstained, khakis perfectly pressed. A Wilder Industries badge clips to his belt. Not a speck of sawdust on him. He looks like he’s never touched actual lumber in his life.
My stomach drops.
He looks exactly like he did two years ago. Polished. Put-together. And all wrong.
He starts walking toward me. “Claire. Can we talk?”
“No.” I don’t stop moving toward the parking lot.
“Just give me five minutes.” He falls into step beside me. “I know I screwed up. I’ve been thinking about what I said, about the surrogacy thing, and I—”
“Derek.” I stop, face him. “I don’t care what you’ve been thinking. We’re done. We’ve been done for two years. And not once did you reach out. I deserve better than to be an after thought.”
“I see you’ve moved on.” His eyes flick toward Hunter, who’s watching us from across the yard. “With him.”
“Yes. With him.” I meet Derek’s eyes. “We’re done here.”
“Claire…”
I turn and keep walking, and this time he doesn’t follow.
When I reach my car, I glance back. Hunter’s still watching, and even from here I can see the tension in his shoulders. Luke’s hand is on Hunter’s arm, probably the only thing keeping him from crossing the yard.
I get in my car and drive away, with Derek Chen finally in my rearview mirror where he belongs.
At five fifty-eight, I pull into Hank & Lulu’s parking lot. I drove around the block for ten minutes so I wouldn’t be too early. Okay, so I'm nervous. Now, Hunter’s truck is here, parked in the back corner.
The diner smells like burgers and fries, warm and familiar after the sawdust and diesel of the mill. When the door chime dings overhead, conversations continue as I scan the interior.
Hunter is sitting at the counter in the same stool he sat on for our first official date. He stands when he sees me.
“Hi.”
“Hi yourself.” I cross to him, and he pulls me close, kisses me right there in front of the dinner crowd. When he pulls back, his eyes are dark.
“You okay? After Derek?”
“I’m fine. Better than fine.” I touch his face. “He doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Good.” He laces his fingers through mine. “Come on. Lulu saved us a booth.”
The diner is packed—Saturday night crowd, families and couples and clusters of teenagers. Every head turns when we walk past. I recognize half the faces. Northwest General staff, people from the antique fair, locals I’ve seen around town but never met.
Everyone’s watching us.
Hunter squeezes my hand, and I squeeze back.
Lulu appears with menus and water, her smile knowing. “Well, well. Look who finally decided to make it official.”
“Lulu.” Hunter’s grinning.
