“Hunter and I are not in a relationship,” I lied. Maybe. Who the hell knew what we were at this point?
Dad had kind of, sort of, okay—totally—kidnapped Mom and married her back in the day. They hadn’t expected to fall in love, but fall madly in love they did. Still, I struggled to understand what made him think this was the norm.
“It sure looked like it from where I was sitting at the Fitzpatrick dinner table.”
“Hunter’s celibate,” I bit out.
Dad side-eyed me, giving me the bored, shockingly condescending look he spared his enemies.
“Don’t lie to me, kid. I make a living off my bullshit radar, and your version of things stinks.”
“So you just handed me over to Fitzpatrick because you thought it’d loosen me up? Open my eyes to the wonders of the world?” I scoffed, aghast.
He threw the Maserati into park in front of the club, but didn’t kill the engine. I didn’t make a move. Junsu could wait. I was too busy digesting the fact that my dad had all but pimped me out in the name of bringing me out of my shell.
Dad ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, scowling at the center console.
“You needed a push in the right direction. Still do. It is fine not to be boy-crazy, but you can’t ignore the world forever. You’ve never had a crush. Beau wasn’t a crush. He was a fucking beard. You’ve never taken interest in doing anything, becoming something, pursuing a profession. You needed someone to introduce you to the world. Hunter was supposed to be the guy to do it.”
Hunter was the guy, I thought bitterly. Thanks to him, I had Ash, had learned how to push myself forward, to believe in myself, and stood up to Junsu. Because of him, I’d started dressing up and paying attention to what I looked like. Hunter had dragged me out of the house to restaurants and the theater and to meet his friends and family. He made me a part of something bigger than my teeny-tiny life. I couldn’t deny it. And Hunter, like my parents, hated my obsession with what I was doing—my tunnel-visioned quest to the Olympics.
“He is,” I croaked, staring at my hands in my lap now.
Dad looked up at me, surprised.
I cleared my throat. “He is that guy. He changed me, Dad. Maybe not as fast or as thoroughly as you and Mom had hoped, but he did. I’m not the same person I was when we moved in together.”
“Then why the fuck are you still like this?” He peered at me, puzzled. He was such a man.
“Like what?”
“Still…” He motioned in my general direction. “Consumed. Obsessed. You.”
“Because it’s not so black and white. And anyway, we’re not together-together.” I felt my cheeks heating. I couldn’t believe I was talking to my dad about this, of all people. It was like taking dating advice from Dracula. “He is not serious about me,” I admitted, my voice coming out softer than I intended.
“I wasn’t marriage material before your mother made me. Be patient.” He flashed me a rare smile, ruffling my hair. “Now get the fuck out, sweetheart. I have work.”
I chuckled, pushing the passenger door open and getting out with more energy than I’d had for the couple days I spent in New York.
“Good luck, baby.”
“Thanks, Daddy.”
Bill, the receptionist at the club, informed me that Junsu wanted to see me in his office, but he was running a little late.
“Emergency at home. He’ll be here soon. Just walk right in.” Bill mock-punched my shoulder hello.
I rolled my luggage around his counter. “Thanks. Mind if I leave this here?”
“Be my guest.” He shrugged, getting back to hunching over the desk in front of him, playing solitaire on his laptop.
Walking to Junsu’s office felt daunting, death-row like. I knew he was unhappy with me, and I knew we were growing apart. The familiar hallway felt narrower, the air stuffy. I realized Dad was right. It was time to stop resenting Hunter for his past and give him a fair chance. Maybe after I moved out we’d continue seeing each other. Maybe—just maybe—Hunter said all those things about our arrangement and how it was all temporary for the same reason I reminded myself that we had an expiration date: to keep himself from hurting.
To dare me to defy our six-month plan.
The truth was, for the past few months, there was nowhere I’d rather be than with Hunter Fitzpatrick. He was my home, the little corner in the universe that understood me.
I knocked on Junsu’s door before remembering Bill had said he wasn’t there. Pushing the door open, I took a step in.
Froze.
Sucked in a breath.
My lungs collapsed first, then my smile. One brick at a time. My system shut down, my throat dried up, and my heart…