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He narrowed his gaze at me. “When you were a kid, what did you want to be?”
“Do you have amnesia? I told you already. A plastic surgeon.”
A little smirk spread across his cheeks. “After that.”
I rolled my eyes and shoved another bite into my mouth, choosing to speak around a mouthful just to annoy him. “A stable manager.”
“And now you’re that and more. He’d be proud.”
“Now? I’m not there yet. Two more days, remember?” I mocked, my stomach beginning to churn from the thought of the presentation I’d be giving.
Hunter chuckled and poked his fork toward me, the playful side of him coming out. “Sorry. You’re right.” He took a hefty sip of his mimosa, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Every fucking move of his body was sinful. “You should still tell your dad, though.”
I shook my head again, stuffing down more of my food to calm my churning stomach. It didn’t help. “If I do, he’ll just give me a long speech about my mom and how proud she’d be of me. I don’t want to deal with that.”
“Why?”
The question, that single word, jarred me. I blinked at him, taking in the genuine expression of concern on his face, a hint of pity somewhere in there. “Because it’s… I don’t know. It’s a lot to think about, I guess. We’ll never really know if she is or she isn’t, and it irks me when he puts words in her mouth.”
Without even realizing it, my fingers had twisted themselves in the chain around my neck, my thumb absentmindedly stroking the horseshoe at my collarbone.
“Was that hers?” Hunter asked, his tone a bit softer, his voice a little lower.
“The necklace? Yeah.”
He nodded as he placed his knife and fork down on the plate, his full attention focused wholly on me. It was a little jarring, having all that care aimed in my direction. “Do you remember much about her?”
“No,” I sighed. “Bits and pieces here and there, but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t even be able to remember her face if I didn’t see it plastered all over the house. The sound of her voice has become a faded melody.”
There’s a cherished memory I have of her that becomes more faded with time, filled with little patches where I’d gone in and replaced the gaps. The three of us are at a beach somewhere, the harsh sun beating down as I carefully constructed a sand castle. Mom was taking photos of me while I did it, all smiles and laughs, but the words she spoke were distant, muffled. I wish I knew what she was saying to me, and there have been times I’ve plugged in my own commentary when I needed it.
“Hey, hey,” Hunter cooed, reaching across the table and swiping at my cheek with his thumb. Why is it wet?
The flash of a camera not three feet away made me jump. My knee slammed into the table, knocking over our mimosas and sending them crashing, exploding on the nice hardwood beneath us.
“Shit, sorry!”
I shot the stranger a glare, sizing him up within a second. But Hunter was already on his feet.
“Get the fuck out,” he snapped, taking one step toward the photographer. The man shrunk in on himself, another mumbled apology as he stumbled away from us.
Hunter’s fists were clenched, a muscle twitching in his locked jaw.
“Hunter,” I said, keeping my voice low as I reached out to him with one hand and wiped the last of my tears with the other. “Calm down.”
“I want him to delete it.” His body vibrated slightly, adrenaline pouring through his system in waves. I took his hand in mine and pulled him back toward the table.
“It’s fine. I don’t care.”
“I care,” he snapped, angling that glare at me for a split second before it morphed into something much softer, much calmer. “I’m sorry. That’s just…”
“It’s okay. Sit down before anyone else decides this is a good photo opportunity,” I said softly. I stroked the back of his hand with my thumb, a gentle coax for him to stop making a scene. There were already waiters frantically sweeping up the broken glass around us. We didn’t need any more attention, and definitely not a photo of his fist colliding with a stranger.
————
Relief flooded me as we finally left the restaurant and entered into the covered parking garage. We drove separately, purely because we both had things to be getting on with afterward, and I couldn’t help but feel the tiniest hint of sadness that I wouldn’t see him again until the meeting.
“Are you ready for Monday?”
