Hate You Not

“I got some soup from you guys. Thank you.”

“Miso soup,” Oliver says proudly.

“You remembered that’s what I ordered.”

Oliver sits up a little straighter.

“Thank you, dude. And you, dudette.”

“I miss you,” Margot says.

“Did you climb up the Eiffel Tower?” Oliver asks.

Burke laughs. “Not this time. Maybe we can come over sometime together. Would you like that?”

Oliver nods.

“Can I talk to Aunt June for a second?”

Oliver hands the phone to me, and there he is. He’s so Burke, with messy, dark hair, stubble on his square jaw, and those piercing blue eyes. For a second, all my words are caught in my throat.

“Hi,” he says.

I fake a smile. “Hey.”

“I can’t believe you did that.” He smiles. “How’d you manage the French?”

“I’m fluent. Kidding. I ordered online with the help of a website. It only took about twenty minutes.”

“That’s a while.” He rubs his hair then props his face in his palm.

“You sound sick.”

“I’m cool.”

“You’re not cool,” I tease.

He snorts.

For a second, no one speaks. Then, in a low rasp, he says, “How are you?”

“Fine.” It’s a chirp. “I’m good,” I tack on.

Totally appreciated the oral you gave me right before you fixed my gutter and then disappeared like a thief in the night.

“I have a working gutter that doesn’t leak. So that’s real nice.”

Oh my God, I just said both “gutter” and “leak.” I can feel my face burn.

“Good.”

It’s all he says. His lips twitch slightly, and his head tilts just a little. I feel like he’s looking through me. So I do the most June thing imaginable. I step into the living room and whisper-hiss: “You were looking so hot. And you were such a jerk. And then you weren’t…I mean, you weren’t the whole time. But I had animosity. This was a pent-up animosity situation.”

He laughs so loudly, I consider hanging up. He drops his phone, he’s laughing so much. Then he has a coughing fit that sounds like it hurts.

When he picks the phone back up, his eyes are closed. The bastard is still grinning.

“Pent-up animosity—” He breaks out into another coughing fit. “I think the term you’re looking for is lust.” He grins once more, and it’s a cocky grin. A grin with swagger.

I decide to own it, though. I shrug. “Maybe it was. I’m a living, breathing woman. And you have abs with a capital A.”

He chuckles.

“It will never, ever happen again,” I say softly.

“Oh yeah,” he says with a nod. “Never.”

“It’s inappropriate, for one.” I lean against the living room wall, smirking as if my heart’s not pounding.

“Oh yeah.”

“I mean, you’re a douchey Slytherin, and I’m a noble Gryffindor. So that’s a basic compatibility issue.”

“Noble is the first thing that comes to mind when I look at you.”

“I know,” I say sharply, arching one eyebrow at my phone’s camera. “Beautiful and noble. Like a unicorn.”

“Oh yeah. Just like…a unicorn.” He mutters something I can’t hear, and I say, “Pervert.”

“What?” he asks.

“You know what.”

He rolls his eyes.

Awkwardness steamrolls over me. I try to fight it with more small talk. “What were you doing to get sick?”

“Um, what?”

“Like, were you out a lot or staying up late?”

He frowns. “I’m not sure I understand the question.”

“Well, I have a regimen. It involves elderberry, vitamin C, vitamin B, and D. All sorts of stuff. I don’t usually get sick unless there’s something special going on—like I forget one of those things or do some kind of weird all-nighter, like to help birth a calf.”

He shakes his head.

“You think I’m insane now?”

“Did already.”

I sigh dramatically and walk back toward the kitchen. “Well anyway. This was nice to check in. Re-establish how you’re a snake and I’m a magic unicorn.”

“That’s my takeaway,” he says gamely.

“Oh, and get well. Don’t forget you’re still the understudy.”

He lets out a hoot of laughter when he realizes what I mean.

I give him a bright smile.

“Thank you for the soup, June.” Now he’s smiling brightly back at me.

“Thank you for the candy, Burke Bug—I definitely did not already eat the whole bag—and the pencil sharpeners and bubbles and the T-shirt. Oh, and the bamillion dollar book.”

He snorts.

I turn the phone toward the kids, still eating at the kitchen table. “Say goodnight and get well, Uncle Burke.”

They chant it after me. I make a kiss face at the phone’s screen and hang up.Chapter 19BurkeTwo pajama shirts, I text her from my office desk. Ravenclaw for me, and the extra one is perfect since I only fuck Slytherins.

Did I go too far with that? I rub a hand back through my hair, pushing the base of my hand against my throbbing forehead. Shit, I think that sounded dickish.

Those little dots are visible at the bottom of my screen—a sign she’s typing. When nothing comes, I know she’s typing and deleting as she struggles to decide how to reply.

??

That’s her reply. She called me a pig—at least I think she did. I have to double check my iPhone symbols to confirm that it’s a pig snout.