Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
Hunter
Ten weeks pregnant
I f I close my eyes and feel the rhythm of the boat as it crests the small waves, I can almost imagine the wide-open ocean around me. While I didn’t share Preston’s hyper fixation with marine animals growing up, I do feel sense of peace on the water.
“No, Senator Marsden specifically requested?—”
“I don’t give a fuck if the ghost of Ronald Reagan himself appears in that office, you need to stay until?—”
I groan quietly as I lift my head from where it rested on the side of the boat and blink behind my sunglasses. Nothing like a boat ride with your two workaholic brothers to ground you in reality. Not an open ocean, but the brown and muddy Potomac. The sunshine and cool breeze of the unofficial start to summer persists and I tip my head again, enjoying the rays on my face. I’ve been picking up whatever shifts I can in local restaurant kitchens around Holly Ridge at all hours of the day and night while I wait for something permanent to open up. It’s nice to sit and relax.
“Fucking interns,” Duncan and Preston say in unison, lowering their phones at the same time. We all laugh. People can usually pinpoint us as brothers when we’re all together, but sometimes things happen that leave no doubt.
“You know, Duncan, if you’re not careful, people will get confused,” I say, arranging my face in what I hope portrays a picture of innocence. “Are you saying fucking interns, like a descriptive? Or do you mean it more as an action?—”
“Fuck off,” he replies, flipping me the bird as Preston chuckles. “I have never slept with an intern, and you know it.”
“I know, I know. Sorry, big bro. The opportunity lay before me.” We all lapse into a comfortable silence, sipping from our beers as the guy Duncan hired to drive the boat turns us around at the northern end of the city, and we head back south.
“So, what did Hayden give you to get him out of this little joy ride?” I ask. It’s time to get to the bottom of why Duncan insisted we take this boat out in the first place.
“Since he and Charlotte are hosting on their rooftop, he promised he’d do an extra three months of philanthropy committee if he could stay behind. Plus, Spencer ordered something from Wegmans to contribute since he can’t be here. It’s delayed, so they need to go pick it up, too.”
“You know,” Preston says, running his hand through his brown hair, the strands lighter than Duncan’s, but darker than my dirty blond. “I’m starting to think Hayden actually enjoys philanthropy duty, and he’s not actually bothered by you assigning it to him.”
Preston, as usual, figured out the truth. Duncan’s face goes pensive. To distract him before he gives it too much thought, I blurt out what I’ve been thinking. “So, this thing you wanted to talk to me about. You know, the big secret I had to travel to DC for and all.”
“Yes, right.” Duncan sets down his beer and straightens up. If he were wearing a suit instead of a polo and board shorts, I think he’d straighten the tie and button the jacket. “I wanted to talk to you about your meal planning business.”
I shoot a look at Preston, who has the decency to look a little guilty.
“It’s a good idea, Hunt. Listen to him.”
“Okay, Judas,” I say. My eyes focus on Duncan, but my ears are full of white noise and my stomach is twisting. Coming to Duncan for funding for my business idea has always been something I’ve known is an option. But I hoped to find another way. I intentionally didn’t mention to Duncan how much it’s grown for this very reason.
“Hunter, are you listening to me?”
I shake my head and my ears clear. “Sorry. Having a slight existential crisis. Can you repeat yourself?”
He smiles the smile he’s worn since our mom died and he took it upon himself to become another parent, whether we wanted him to be or not. I can hear what he’s not saying out loud: At least it’s an internal crisis Hunter’s having this time. Hindsight being what it is. I know I didn’t make things easy on him, or my dad, or anyone really, while growing up, but I’m really trying now.
“I’d love to give you a graduation gift. Some start-up money to allow you some time and space to see how this thing can grow. I know you’re killing yourself with all those shifts wherever you can find them. This will allow you to find the right job in the right kitchen and still make a living.”
I set my beer down and lean forward, my forearms on my knees and level him with a look of my own. “Would you make this offer to anyone else?”
Duncan looks surprised. “What do you mean? Of course I would. Hayden has a start-up housed under my company.”
“Sure,” I nod. “But he came to you with a business plan, right? Plus, he has real-world business experience. And you’re getting a portion of his profits when he starts to make them. ”
“Well, sure, but?—”
I hold up my hand. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Dunc, I really do. I know you have my back. And I know you’re framing it as a gift, but if”—I raise my voice to stop him from interrupting—“I do ever decide to broaden this idea into something bigger, I’ll come to you with a business plan, a proposal for returns for you, benchmarks, targets, the whole nine yards.”
Duncan reclines with a gleam in his eye looking a lot like respect. “All right then. I appreciate that.”
“So instead”—I take a sip of beer to up the tension—“you can gift me something normal. You know, like a car.” I wink to let him know I’m joking, or else he probably would have one delivered before I get home.
He lifts his beer. “Am I allowed to propose a toast?”
“Has anyone ever successfully stopped you when you tried?” I volley back.
“Nope,” he says, a smug tilt to his mouth. “To new beginnings and great achievements. I’m proud of you, Hunt.” Preston clinks his beer with ours, mouthing, “sorry,” to me before we all tip the bottles to drain them.
“Now then,” Duncan says, looking at his watch. “Right on schedule to be getting back to the wharf and up to the rooftop. Try to be a bit more gracious when Hayden and Charlotte surprise you with the cake Spencer ordered than you were with as my gesture, okay? They don’t have my thick skin.”
My cheeks warm from more than the sun. I’m so used to being the problem, somewhere along the way I got really bad at taking recognition for what I’ve accomplished. It may be time to work on that.
P reston and Duncan complain about the humidity in DC, but tonight, there’s none of that pesky stuff to be found. This part of the rooftop of Charlotte and Hayden’s building looks out over a stretch of highway I can’t remember the number for. It’s different than I’m used to after small-town New England life. But we’re facing west, and the sun sets here like it does everywhere else, inching toward the horizon.
I look around at a mix of people whose names I’m positive I won’t remember. Friends from various parts of my brothers’ lives are here. Duncan is manning the grill, surprising everyone by putting on the apron his assistant brought when she showed up.
Preston walks up to me, a beer in each hand. He thrusts one at me. “So, you overwhelmed yet?”
I laugh and take a swallow, enjoying the cold liquid as it slides down my throat. “It’s a lot of faces and names to take in. But you all have built something here. A community. Nice to see.”
Preston nods as he takes his own look around, his bottle tilted to his lips. “It is nice. It’ll be hard to leave next year to move back to Massachusetts. My apartment will be open though, you know. If you wanted to come join in all this.” He gestures to the people laughing and talking, someone from Preston and Jax’s office playing beer pong alongside someone I’m pretty sure works with Charlotte.
“Why, so you can keep a few hundred miles between us? Switch spots?”
He smacks me lightly on the arm. “No, jackass. But if you’re looking for people to be around and lift you up, you’ve got it here. We worry about you up there by yourself.”
“I’m not by myself.” Preston levels me with a look. “Okay, sure Dad and Margaret aren’t necessarily in my social circle, but really, I’m okay.” He looks like he doesn’t believe me, which makes sense when I’m not sure I believe myself. Distraction time.
“Anyway, aren’t you going to be up there alone? Or will a certain bang-having author be accompanying you on your next adventure?”
Preston’s cheeks darken to match the streaks of pink starting to form in the sky as the sun sinks lower. “It’s a possible consideration. She says she can write from anywhere she has a desk, a coffee pot, and a cat. She’s joking about the cat. I think ...”
I laugh, not at all sure she is joking. That’ll be fun to watch. “Where is Jax, anyway?”
Preston pulls out his phone to check the time. “She should be here any minute. Her friend Michelle had an appointment she wanted Jax to go to with her, but they’re on their way.”
As if he summoned her with his words, the brunette in question appears, waving our way from across the rooftop. Behind her, a flash of auburn disappears around the corner. Maybe it’s the way the golden hour light caught the strands, but it looks so much like the color of Clyde’s hair. I see her auburn locks in my dreams, so it makes sense I think I’m seeing it everywhere in DC. A whole family with her hair color passed me in the airport yesterday, but none wore it as well as she does.
Not for the first time this weekend, I take out my phone, tilting the screen so no one can see what I’m looking at. I downloaded Tinder again on the plane ride down here. Our chat exists, but Clyde’s message thread now reads from “Unknown User” instead of WeatherGirl85. She must have deleted her account. I’m not sure why I expect her to have a sixth sense I’m in the city again and reactivate her account, but I can’t help checking every chance I get.
A generic greyed out head icon awaits me. My stomach dips with disappointment—again.
“You okay over here, man? Looks like Jax got held up, so I’m going to go save her.”
I wave him off, taking advantage of the time alone to sit in a chair facing the outer wall of the roof and open the gig app I use to book new clients for my meal planning business. If you told me two years ago I would be checking on work, at a party, on a long weekend, I’d say you have the wrong twin. But the rush of answering the questions and inquiries waiting for me is something I hope never gets old. My mind wanders to Duncan’s offer while I add a few things to my project management app, so I can dive in on my trip home on Monday.
Finally, I tuck my phone away before anyone can accuse me of Duncan-like work habits at a social gathering. I finish the last of my now too-warm beer and look around for the recycling. My eyes travel over the crowd, skipping past the corner next to the elevators before my gaze is yanked back. Standing next to Jax is Clyde. My WeatherGirl. I’d think I’m imagining her if not for the look of absolute shock on her face. I’m frozen in place. I’ve dreamed about this moment, but now that it’s here, I have no idea what to do.
I look to Jax next, and her matching look of shock is what finally propels me into motion. I weave through furniture at a pace faster than polite for a rooftop gathering, but I can’t imagine letting her get away again. Clyde’s eyes open wide when she realizes I’m headed straight for them and yanks Jax around the corner.
When I turn the corner myself, I see there’s a single-person bathroom there, the occupancy tag turned to red for “In Use.” I prop myself against the wall. With us being on the roof, fifteen stories above ground level, I’m fairly confident there isn’t a window in there for them to sneak out of. But I watched too many Friends re-runs with Margaret in my life to be one hundred percent sure.
No, I’ll wait right here. They have to come out sometime. I scrub my face with my hands, trying to activate my brain. What does someone say to the one-night stand they haven’t stopped thinking about when they run into them by chance at a Memorial Day picnic. I’m not sure even Hallmark would have a card for this.