23. Hunter
Chapter 23
Hunter
Nerves skittering, I slide out of the passenger seat of the truck and smooth my skirt over my legs. In the space of what feels like a heartbeat, Levi’s around the cab and by my side.
He’s right there. We’ve got this. It’s the mantra I’ve repeated since I opened my eyes this morning.
“If this isn’t the strangest case of déjà vu.” I take his proffered arm, and the two of us trek toward the entrance of the South Chapel Country Club, each step heavier than the last. We’ve been here before. We’ve walked through these doors together. Years ago, we even shared secret, silent heartbreak in this place.
Levi squeezes my arm, then places a kiss atop my head. “Except this time, we’re in control. We’ve got this, Daisy. We know what we’re facing and how this is likely going to go.”
“Abysmally,” I snark, unable to slow my quick breaths or calm my hammering heart.
“Hunter.” Gently, he tugs on my arm and stops in front of the large wooden doors. “I love you,” he tells me, brushing my hair behind my ear. He hovers close, his lips ghosting over mine. “We’ll go in there and play pretend, then walk out and forget about this whole charade. Spence has a plan. I trust him, and I know you do, too. They can’t touch us, baby. We’ve got this.”
I let his words sink in and soothe the rough edges of my anxiety.
He’s right. This is just pretend. It’s all part of a bigger plan.
We’ll get through this.
I hope.
It isn’t until after formal greetings and half-assed hugs, between the hollow small talk and loaded glances aimed at my flat stomach, that I realize we’ve walked into a trap.
Or perhaps a series of traps.
First, there are the subtle word choices and attempts to get me to slip up, all orchestrated by Magnolia. Then we’re served a four-course prix fixe menu, with courses offered at regular increments with no indication of what will arrive next.
The meal starts with a champagne toast, which I politely decline.
Then comes the baked brie wrapped in puff pastry, a personal fave that I have to pass on.
The main course consists of poached eggs and hollandaise. This one may be okay, but it feels like a gamble, nonetheless. What did Kylian say about undercooked eggs the other day?
Avocado toast covered in sprouts comes out last.
By the time a small cup of espresso is placed in front of me, I’m ready to burst.
Levi nudges me with a knee under the table. When I lift my gaze, his blue eyes swim with questions.
Swallowing hard, I slip my phone from my bag and send him a quick text.
Daisy: It’s a trap. Alcohol… coffee… soft cheese and drippy eggs. She’s trying to catch me in a snare.
Levi stares incredulously at the device he’s cradling in his lap.
Duke: Or she’s trying to give us all food poisoning…
Despite my panic, I snort. Quickly, I cover my mouth with my napkin to disguise the sound.
Thankfully, the mothers are engaged in hushed gossip about a man at Mrs. Moore’s church that Magnolia apparently knows, too.
Daisy: These are all foods a pregnant woman should avoid.
Duke: Really? How do you know that?
My throat tightens. How much of the truth do I want to type out in the middle of the country club dining room? Today feels heavy enough without scouring old wounds.
Levi nudges my foot, pulling me from my racing thoughts.
When I meet his gaze, he gives me a soft smile. He won’t push, it says. He’s more than willing to listen, to comfort, to handle the darkest parts of me. He’s here, and he’s not going anywhere.
I type out my explanation and hit Send before I can lose my nerve.
Daisy: After I lost the baby, I spent a lot of time reading pregnancy blogs and articles. I even downloaded a pregnancy app when I was in London. Maybe it’s strange, but it comforted me, learning what I could about pregnancy and allowing myself to daydream about the what-ifs.
Levi keeps his focus fixed on his phone for an extended length of time, his eyes scanning the screen as if he’s reading it over a second time and maybe even a third.
Rather than reply, he grabs the leg of my chair and pulls me over until I’m crowding his space. Then, eyes blazing, he captures my chin, tilts my face up, and kisses me on the forehead.
“I’ll never forgive myself for letting you leave for London that summer, knowing what I knew.” The confession is shared so quietly there’s no way anyone else heard him.
Instead of arguing, instead of reminding him that I didn’t give him much choice, I simply lean into him, resting my forehead against his, and breathe him in.
We’re here. We’re doing this. We have a plan, and it will work.
“Aren’t you two just sticky sweet?” Magnolia’s comment is more cutting than kind. “Do you want anything else, darling? You barely touched your food, and you are eating for two, after all.”
I straighten in my chair and rest my hand on my lower abdomen. “I’m full,” I declare. “Maybe even feeling a bit queasy,” I add for good measure. “We should probably get going soon.”
“Oh,” Levi’s mom murmurs. “Not yet. There’s still so much to discuss.”
That’s what I was afraid of. Nevertheless, I plaster on a smile and sit patiently, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Thank you for hosting today, Magnolia,” Mrs. Moore says, her hands fisting the espresso cup like it’s a lifeline. She takes the tiniest sip and pulls a face when she tastes the dark roast.
“Now that we’ve eaten, I think we should talk about the most pressing matter at hand.” She gives me a pitying look, her lips turned down, but as she glances at Levi, the expression turns to one of disdain. “We need to finalize wedding plans.”
With his hand clasped around mine, he rests them on the table, squeezes, and calmly turns to face his mother head-on.
“Hunter and I don’t intend to get married.”
Mrs. Moore’s eyes double in size. “Levi Joseph Moore,” she hisses through clenched teeth. “Your intentions do not matter. If your… girlfriend is with child, then you will do the right thing and marry her in the church.”
Lips pressed together, I breathe deeply, keeping my expression even. Levi can handle his mom without my input.
Magnolia sits back and sips her espresso as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. She channels nothing but mild interest, and I suppose that doesn’t surprise me. She doesn’t believe she has a real dog in this particular fight, so clearly, she’s more than happy to let Mrs. Moore tantrum and carry on.
“I’ll do right by Hunter and our baby, but your version of what’s right and my version are not the same.” Levi sits up straight, his shoulders wide as he squares off with his mother.
There’s nothing particularly threatening about his posture or his tone, but hot damn does his authoritativeness cause heat to pool deep in my belly. More bossy Duke, please and thank you.
Mrs. Moore clearly does not share the sentiment.
Her tone is hushed but still sharp as she cries, “My grandchild will not be a bastard. You liked her well enough to take her to your bed, Levi. Now be a man and take her to the altar.”
Levi’s bright blue eyes narrow, his expression seething.
“Watch your mouth when you’re talking about the mother of my child.”
Shit. Now he’s being authoritative, bossy, and possessive on my behalf? I’m going to be a puddle of want by the time we leave this luncheon.
With a renewed sense of calm, he plainly swallows and lifts his chin. “We don’t want to get married right now, and there’s nothing you can say to make us change our minds.”
Mrs. Moore’s face reddens to the color of a cherry tomato. Hands splayed on the linen tablecloth, she angles closer. “Then you need to consider leaving town before she starts to show. People will talk.” She turns to Magnolia now, her eyes wild. “Neither of us should have to deal with the shame their irresponsible, impulsive choices will bring.”
Magnolia sits up straighter, her wrinkle-free face straining with fresh tension. “Hunter can’t leave.” She locks her deceptively bright green eyes on me. She’s staring at me, through me, even. Not really seeing me at all as her mind works overtime.
For a moment, she’s frozen like that. When she snaps out of the trance, she shifts in her chair, her back ramrod straight.
“Hunter won’t be leaving. My husband is the chief physician at Lake Chapel General. She’ll receive the very best care here. She can’t leave. I won’t allow it.”
Mrs. Moore lets out a strangled cry. “Think of her reputation. Her future .”
“Mom, stop ,” Levi grits out. “Hunter is my future. And I’m hers. Your opinions are just that—opinions. This is our life, and we’ll live it how we see fit.”
I reach for him, feeling surprisingly calm as the group talks about me and around me. Levi’s steadiness and protectiveness bring me a shroud of peace. I don’t have to run anymore; I don’t have to fight alone.
Soon enough, we will walk out of here with our mothers temporarily mollified and Magnolia off our case.
“Hunter. Darling.”
Soon, but clearly not soon enough. Here we fucking go.
“I don’t share Patricia’s sentiment that you should be shipped off because of your condition . But I must insist you settle back in at the house as soon as possible.”
A thread of unease winds through me. “The house? What house?”
A shrill laugh escapes her. “Our house, of course.”
Ah. Dr. Ferguson’s house. Flovely .
My general unease transforms into nauseating dread as I inhale and meet her eye. Taking a page from Levi’s big book on boundaries, I hold eye contact and say, “That won’t be happening.”
She gasps as if I slapped her. “But darling, you must—”
With a shake of my head, I stand, cutting her off. Levi quickly follows suit. “I’m good. We have a place to stay for the semester.”
“The semester? You’re not planning to take time off from school?” She smirks as if she’s outwitted me.
Brow cocked, I stare. If she thinks she’s “caught” me, she has another think coming.
“The semester is only sixteen weeks. It will be over long before the baby is born. I can take time off next year as needed.”
There. That should suffice.
As if reading my mind, Levi grasps my hand and guides me away from the table. “Thank you for the meal,” he says over his shoulder, always the southern gentleman. “We’ll be going now. And since we’re clearly not aligned about our future, there’s no need to contact us again anytime soon.”