Stevie
forty
I DON’T ASK Hunter what happened to Joe.
Ignorance is bliss, and though curiosity occasionally rears its ugly head and pokes at me to get all the details from Hunter, I always tamp the urge down.
It’s irrelevant.
A few weeks ago, I saw Joe’s photo on a missing persons poster taped to a pole.
In the picture, he’s smiling, his hair neatly combed, wearing a light blue button down over a white tee.
It looks like one of the “employee of the month” photos he took the one month he got the award.
Looking at it fascinates me. Whoever said you can’t judge a book by its cover was a genius.
Because this image of Joe, looking friendly and completely harmless, hides a cruel and sadistic misogynist dead-set on harming women. But nobody would ever guess.
I’m glad he’s gone. I just don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fully trust people again.
But I also feel stronger than ever. I’m proud that I fought back.
I’m proud that I didn’t freeze up again like all those times before.
It’s instilled a new confidence in me. A confidence I can feel like a warm light in the center of my chest.
When I woke up that horrid night, Jamie was sitting in front of me, scrolling through his phone. He looked very calm. As soon as he saw that I was awake, he said he had orders from Hunter to take me to the penthouse. I didn’t argue, or even ask any questions.
It all felt like a fever dream.
Hunter came home hours later and Jamie finally left.
We took a long, hot shower together, kissing occasionally, but the kisses quickly became frantic and, on my part, desperate.
He fucked me doggy style against the tiles, pounding into me hard and fast. His hands came around my front to grab and squeeze my breasts, tugging on the tips of them until I came from that stimulation alone. It was intense.
Afterwards, he dried me off with a fluffy white towel, put me in one of his hockey t-shirts, and tucked me into bed.
He spooned me from behind and I felt so safe that I couldn’t stop some tears of joy and relief from falling.
Hunter fell asleep first, while I lay awake for as long as I could, listening to his steady breathing.
Eventually, I fell asleep too.
I’m still staying at Hunter’s place even now that classes have started.
He says he wants me to move in with him.
I park my car in his garage and on days that he doesn’t have morning skate, we have breakfast together before going to class.
Is this what they call domestic bliss? A girl could get used to it.
I told Becca that Joe had broken into our apartment and that I didn’t want her to stay there anymore. I assured her that he would never bother us again, but I think she got the creeps anyway. Jamie is helping her look for a new apartment.
Now, we’re at Hunter’s father’s estate, celebrating his birthday. He’s turning 22 on January 22. Becca calls them “angel numbers.” She explains what they are to Hunter and his teammates.
“The 2222 angel number is extremely powerful,” she says, gin and tonic in hand.
“It promotes harmony, balance, and peace. It encourages you to follow your gut and your heart, and always trust that you are on the right track. This will be a year of stability for you, Hunter. I foresee it as being the best year of your life so far.”
Hunter nods, looking contemplative.
Jamie scoffs. “Becca, respectfully, that’s all a bunch of bull.”
“No, it’s not, Jamie, you’ll see.”
“See what? You see what you wanna see. If Hunter has a good week, you’re going to attribute it to these so-called ‘angel numbers.’ Give me a fucking break. They are just numbers. And angels aren’t real.”
Ryder rolls his eyes at Jamie. “Bro, chill, just let her say something nice to Cap. God knows he’s had enough drama lately.” He raises his tequila on the rocks to Becca. “I’m into everything you’re saying, hottie.”
Becca beams at Ryder, then sticks her tongue out at Jamie.
“Children, children,” I intervene. “Let’s all play nice on my boyfriend’s birthday, please. You only turn 22 once.”
Hunter grins. “Listen to my girlfriend, everyone. She’s the smarter one in this partnership.”
The guys clink their glasses and drink, while Becca eyes me with a saucy look. I’ve never called Hunter my boyfriend before, and here I am doing it in front of his closest friends, on his birthday. It feels so good.
Becca sidles up to me and slips her arm through mine. “Boyfriend, huh? I love it, babe. You deserve a hot man like that. I’m so happy for you. I’m only a little bitter that we won’t be roomies anymore, but I’ll let it slide.”
“Are you and Jamie still looking for an apartment for you?”
Becca looks heavenward. “Yes. But doing anything with him is like pulling teeth. I can’t stand it.” She drains her gin and tonic. “Let’s not talk about apartment hunting, please. Let’s go dance a little.”
We head to the dance floor, leaving the guys behind. All of Hunter’s hockey teammates are here, including some classmates from his business classes. There are also distant cousins and family friends I’ve never met.
Celeste put the whole thing together, but I came and helped as much as I could between and after classes. There’s no theme, but it’s all very elegant and has a wintery vibe, because it’s been coming down in earnest the last few weeks.
I’m wearing sheer black stockings, a red sweater dress, and knee-high black boots.
Becca is wearing a white dress with subtle, sparkly snowflakes all over it.
We raise our hands over our heads and twirl to an upbeat Dua Lipa song.
We salsa when a Bad Bunny song comes on.
And we refrain from grinding and dropping low when an old school hip-hop jam beckons more people to the dance floor.
I’m not about to let Hunter’s family see me hitting the floor or twerking.
Celeste finds us on the dance floor and joins us. She looks cute in a black dress with a big bow across the chest. Her arm is mostly healed, but she still has a cast on. It’s covered by her long sleeve.
“Amazing party,” I yell over the loud music.
She beams. “Thank you so much. It’s all the experience of throwing events for art galleries coming in handy.”
“Maybe it’s time for a career change,” Becca says.
Celeste shakes her head. “Actually, I might just retire.”
Becca and I look at each other. “Retire?” Becca says. “Why?”
Celeste beckons us closer to her and says in a low voice. “Ben and I are trying for a baby.”
My stomach drops to the floor.
Becca looks shocked but quickly schools her features into one of polite interest. “Wow, that’s wonderful.”
Celeste nods. “I’ve always wanted children. I’m just glad Ben is on board. Please don’t tell Hunter yet. I want us to tell him in private. And I’m sorry for springing it on you so randomly. I’m just so excited and want to tell the whole world.”
We dance to some more songs, then Celeste excuses herself to go mingle.
Becca cups a hand over my ear and says, “She’s not even pregnant yet but she wants to tell the whole world that she’s trying to be? That woman has major baby fever.”
“Um, tell me about it.”
“I want another drink. Come with me?”
“Sure.”
But before we can leave the dance floor, Hunter and Jamie approach us, both holding a drink in each hand. Jamie hands Becca a pink drink garnished with a slice of pineapple. She stares at him for a beat before taking it. Something weird is going on between those two.
Hunter hands me a passionfruit lemonade mocktail.
I wrap my free hand around the back of his neck and stand on my tiptoes for a quick kiss. “Happy Birthday, baby. I hope everything Becca said about your angel number comes true.”
He laughs. “You’re my angel, my angel number, my four-leaf clover, and every other good luck charm on the planet.”
“I thought I was your princess.”
“That too. Always.”
“Baby, thank you for everything, okay?” I don’t have to elaborate.
He knows that I’m thanking him for literally everything, from the first moment that he rescued me from Joe, to the offer to pay me to sleep with him so I wouldn’t lose my apartment, to coming to my rescue again, and this time getting rid of Joe for good. He’s changed my life.
He drops a kiss to the top of my head. “You don’t have to thank me. Having you in my life is thank you enough.”
“Do you know what you’re wishing for when you blow out your birthday candles?”
He smiles and squeezes my waist. “Oh yeah. I got it down to the last detail.”
“Good.”