“Uh ... I’m not sure.” I’m grateful that he can’t see that I’m blushing. But so many items on my bucket list were so outlandish; it’s a lot harder to check them off when they are things likesee the Eiffel towerin spring when the trees are blossomingorsleep underneath the northern lightswhen you work six days a week for your family at their increasingly struggling bakery.
“Liv.”
“Okay, fine. Out of twenty-five.”
Hunter steps back, taking my shoulders in his hands, his eyes roaming over my face, studying me. “Why haven’t you done more?”
I shrug. “I picked some expensive goals. Or things that are really hard to do as a heart-transplant recipient. I let my imagination get carried away. Plus, there’s the bakery to run ... and things like having to pay for food and my car and stuff like that.”
“What are some of the things on your list?”
The look on his face guts me—hope faltering in his eyes, as if the idea that Lyla’s death might have helped someone else just slipped through his fingers. “They were just ... naive dreams,” I say quietly. “I didn’t exactly factor in budgets and airfare when I wrote down ‘African safari.’ I thought you could just ... go.”
“Okay, so African safari. What else? Give me one or two. I’m curious. I want to know what younger Liv dreamed of doing with her new lease on life.”
I purse my lips but relent. “Fine. One was to eat real Italian food across from the Colosseum. And another was that I wanted to see a pod of orcas in the wild.”
Hunter’s smile is amused but gentle. “So you’re saying I can’t surprise you with those on a random Saturday night?”
“Not unless you have a private jet I don’t know about or a whale-watching boat stashed away somewhere.” I laugh. “I’m still grateful for the gift of my heart—even if I never make it to Rome or spot an orca.”
“Never say never,” Hunter says. “Now that you’ve decided to be optimistic and believe that you have plenty of life ahead of you, there’s still time to check a few more goals off that list, right?”
I squinch my nose. “Now that I’ve agreed totryto be optimistic about how much life I have ahead of me ... maybe I’ll figure out how to do one or two more on there. Someday.”
The look Hunter gives me is indecipherable, his eyes piercing in the glow of the twinkle lights.
But then a more upbeat song comes on, and he suddenly grabs my hand and twirls me again, only this time when he pulls me back, he dips me. I wobble on my heels, nearly falling. He wraps both arms around me, holding me steady before I collapse to the floor in ignominy. I’m giggling uncontrollably by the time he rights me.
“Maybe that’s enough dancing for one night,” he says, barely concealing his own laughter at my gracelessness.
“Yeah, maybe,” I agree. “But thank you—for all of this. It’s been magical. Even if I never check off another item on my list, this has been enough.” I hope he can see the truth in my eyes.
“You have a very low bar for magic if you thinkthisis enough to forget the rest of your list. But you’re welcome.” Hunter takes my hand in his as we walk back to where the employee still stands guarding the way to our little private dance floor.
As we walk to the car, I silently disagree with him. I have a veryhighbar for magic. The only problem with magic is that it’s not real. I can only hope that whatever is happening between usis, because I’ve never been this happy after a first date in my life.
Which is as scary as it is magical.
25.
Once we’re back in the car, Hunter holds my hand again, our elbows resting on the center console. There’s no moon tonight, and the sky is an inky abyss above us. Even though we’re surrounded by traffic and the buildings that line the freeway, I have the strangest sensation of being separate from the flow of life all around us.
“Confession of a mess,” Hunter says suddenly.
“Mine or yours?”
His throat moves when he swallows; I track the rise and fall of it.
“I was angry,” he says, voice low. “I’ve never been more angry in my life. Not even after the accident.”
I’m not sure what he’s talking about yet, so I wait.
He clenches the steering wheel so hard with his other hand that his knuckles glare white in the lights of the oncoming traffic. “When I moved here, I wasfuriouswith Colette and Mark, my ex-partner ... and myself. I hated them for what they did to me. And honestly, I hated myself too.” His fingers tighten around my hand. He glances at me briefly before turning back to the road, but the anguish in his eyes, even in that fleeting look, guts me. “I was awful to a lot of people, but especially you. I’ve never been the type of person to be horrible to someone for having the audacity to be attractive and kind.”
“You were horrible to me because I wasattractiveto you?”
“Yeah. Pathetic, right? But I came to Scottsdale to try to escape what happened the last time I let myself fall for someone. She and Mark destroyed my life. She confirmed my biggest fear: that I’m unlovable. The last thing I wanted after feeling like everyone had turned on me was to be attracted to my new neighbor.”
