Chapter Ten Lucy
Chapter Ten
Lucy
Everything about this trip so far is excruciating.
I can’t believe I told Katherine that Hunter and I are involved.
What was I thinking? And then everyone made such a fuss about switching seats so we could sit together.
I swear Katherine was shushing Ed so she could listen to Hunter and me talking. Neither of us knew what to say.
The journey from Martha’s Vineyard Airport seems to be taking four and a half hours. Our party is split between two SUVs, and our driver assured us it was going to take less than fifteen minutes. Our driver is a liar.
We turn off the road and head through gates that have a sign on it with the name Gableview.
I try not to be obvious about craning my neck to see the house.
Okay, so the images Hunter showed me were incredible, but he’s never actually been here.
It might have all been bullshit. But as the driveway curves to the left, I let out an audible gasp.
The house is even more beautiful than the pictures. I snap my head at Hunter, but he’s buried in his phone. I nudge him and nod toward the house. He narrows his eyes like he’s not getting what I’m trying to say. So exaggeratedly, I give a big thumbs-up.
He chuckles, and even I can’t help but smile at my ridiculousness.
“Oh, this is gorgeous, Lucy,” Katherine says. “How ever did you find it?”
“I didn’t,” I say. “I can’t take any credit. Hunter knew someone who knew someone.”
“Jack Alden,” Hunter says, as if we’re all supposed to know who Jack is.
“This is Jack’s place?” Ed asks. I guess Ed knows.
“Sort of. His family has a place on the same stretch of land that they use. This place is an investment property.”
The car comes to a standstill outside the beautiful two-story house that looks like something out of a film set.
The white siding and gray shingle roof make the house blend into the vast sky above.
White hydrangeas surround the front porch, exactly how they were in the pictures—abundant and soft against the crisp lines of the architecture.
A Star-Spangled Banner on the side of the house ripples in the breeze.
I almost don’t want to enter in case the spell is broken.
“I don’t think I’ll ever want to leave,” Katherine says.
I couldn’t have said it better.
Ed is the first to take the steps up to the porch and the front door. “Do we have rooms assigned?” he asks. “Or is it a free-for-all?”
Hunter chuckles. I’m not quite sure why.
“I’ve assigned rooms,” I say. “Ed and Hunter are in the second guest bedroom on the third floor. Then we have—”
Katherine interrupts. “I know Ed and Hunter were sharing, and you and I were sharing, but since you and Hunter are a couple now . . . you two can share, and Ed and I can share!” She beams as she talks.
Out of the corner of my eye I can see Hunter shaking his head. Obviously, I don’t want to share a room with him. But I can’t think of an excuse. Katherine’s suggestion has me spiraling. This is not what I had planned.
“It’s just silly otherwise,” she continues. “And I hate sleeping without Ed now. In fact, a couple of months ago when he stayed in New York for the night, I didn’t sleep a wink with him gone.”
My insides feel heavy. There’s no getting away from this.
“And it means you guys get to hang out a little more,” Katherine says, grinning.
I slide on a smile. “Sure,” I say. “If that’s what you want, Katherine.”
Katherine squeals. “Thank you. This is absolutely incredible. I’m so looking forward to this weekend. Wedding planning has been so stressful. It will be good to just kick back and relax.”
My fake smile is replaced with a real one when I see Katherine so happy. It’s not like we’re going to be spending loads of time in our rooms anyway. We’re just there to sleep. Hunter and I are adult enough to make it work. I hope. At least I know I’m adult enough to make it work.
Hunter follows me into our allocated bedroom, carrying our luggage.
“You know we’re only staying two nights,” he says, dumping my large suitcase by the bed.
The room is done in pale blues and whites, with a view of the ocean.
On one wall there’s a four-poster bed, white muslin wrapped around the frame gently undulating with the breeze from the ceiling fan.
It’s like something from a fairy tale. “What have you got in here?” Hunter barks, spoiling the moment.
If only I weren’t sharing this room with him.
“Plenty of space for a dead body on the way back,” I retort.
“Whatever,” Hunter replies in the lamest response he’s ever given me. “Did you think through what this means? You and I are going to be in a confined space for over forty-eight hours. Why on earth did you say yes?”
“I didn’t hear you objecting.”
“I was expecting you to make some excuse about how we weren’t that far along in our relationship or something. Most guys don’t give a shit where they sleep. It’s the women who make a big fuss about that kind of thing.”
“At least you’re not generalizing,” I say, unzipping my bag on the floor.
“You want me to lift that onto the bed?” he asks.
“Eww, no thank you. That suitcase has been through the airport. You can’t put it on that beautiful bed linen.”
“Only trying to help,” Hunter says.
I sigh, exhausted, partly from the anticipation of this trip and partly from the realization that I’m going to have to spend time and energy fighting with Hunter when all I want to be doing is making sure Katherine has the weekend of her life.
“Well, here we are,” I say. “We’ll just have to make the best of it. I can take the couch.” The navy-and-white couch isn’t big, but if I take the cushions and put them on the floor, I can make it work.
“Or we could stage a fight, and I could sleep downstairs,” he says.
“No! You can’t do that. It will upset Katherine.”
Hunter gives a small shake of his head. “We couldn’t possibly do that, now, could we?”
“This is her bachelorette party in case you’ve forgotten. She’s going to remember it as one of the best times of her life.”
“No pressure, then,” Hunter says. “I’m going into the bathroom.”
“I’m going to get us some beverages.”
“Knock yourself out.”
He probably means literally. No doubt he thinks I deserve a good concussion right about now. But he must know that it’s not my choice to be sharing a bedroom with him. Not here. Not ever.
I pad downstairs and explore the kitchen. I had a huge order of groceries delivered earlier in the day, and I was told the housekeeper would put them away. I might as well use the time to check that everything came. While I’m doing a mental inventory of the fridge, Katherine comes down.
“Everything okay with your room?” I ask.
“Oh, Lucy, it’s just the best. And you put Hershey’s Kisses by the bed.”
The housekeeper did, at my request.
“I actually have some HARIBO for Ed here somewhere.” The housekeeper called to say dry goods were laid out on the counters in the pantry. I just need to find the pantry.
“You’re so sweet and thoughtful,” Katherine says. Her praise feels so good, like warming cold hands in front of a fire.
“I just want you to have a good time,” I say.
I open a door and find the pantry just as there’s a knock on the door.
My stomach plunges. I hope that’s not Mom arriving early.
I’m absolutely not ready for her. I want to have a shower.
Maybe a shot of tequila. But it’s hours until she’s due. It can’t be her.
I cross the kitchen and open the front door. It’s a delivery driver.
Two boxes are stacked up beside him on the porch. He hands me his electronic signing pad, and I make an attempt at a signature.
I glance back at Katherine. Does she know what this is all about? She’s got her head stuck in the refrigerator and isn’t paying any attention.
The driver heads back to his van, and I step out onto the porch to examine the parcels. Both boxes are addressed to “Hunter Bain.”
Intrigued, I head back upstairs. Hunter must have finished in the bathroom by now.
I pause at the door to our room. Should I just walk in?
What if he’s still in the bathroom? What if he’s naked?
My treacherous stomach swoops at the thought.
There’s no doubt Hunter is objectively attractive.
It doesn’t mean I find him attractive. I nod, agreeing with myself, and turn the knob to our room.
I walk in at the moment the bathroom door opens, steam billowing out, Hunter appearing through the fog.
He’s got a small white towel wrapped around his waist. Other than that, he’s very naked.
I squeal and cover my eyes.
Hunter’s chuckle sets me off.
“Are you laughing at me?” I ask, my hands still over my face.
“Am I laughing at you screaming at the sight of me? Yes, yes I am. Because you’re ridiculous.”
“You’re naked. I wasn’t expecting it.”
“I just got out of the shower.”
“I thought you were . . . doing something else,” I say. “I didn’t realize you were showering. And I didn’t realize you’d be wandering around the room naked, or I would have given you more time.”
“Perfect. Well, FYI, I fully intend to be wandering about naked the entire time I’m in here, so maybe you should find another room.”
I slump on the sofa and try to focus on the ocean.
I’m overwhelmed.
“I can’t fight with you like this the entire weekend,” I say, keeping my gaze trained on the horizon. Behind me, I hear a suitcase zipper and the sound of wet terry cloth hitting the floor.
“Then stop fighting,” Hunter says.
“I have to get changed and put out the canapés. Then my mom is arriving with my aunt and our two bitchy cousins. I just . . . can’t.”
The adrenaline that’s been racing around my body since this morning is ebbing away. I’m tired. So very tired.
“Then stop fighting, Lucy. I don’t know why you’re so mad at me in the first place. Maybe you’re mad at everyone.”
“You forgot the wigs, remember?”
“Right. And nobody died. Everyone still had fun on the plane, and Ed will still think it’s cool that you’ll all be dressed up like Uma Thurman tomorrow night.”
That’s true, I suppose. “The wigs just would have made it perfect. But you’re right. I overreacted. I’ve just been so wound up about everything. I took it out on you and I’m sorry. I really am.”
The sofa bounces beside me, and I snap my head around.
Hunter is sitting next to me. I scan his body quickly to make sure nothing’s on display that shouldn’t be.
He’s dressed in a navy polo shirt and khaki shorts, and his hair is still a little wet from the shower.
It’s sticking up everywhere, and when I glance up at it, he tries to tame the unruly strands with his fingers.
“You’re dressed.”
“You’re forgiven. Tell me about the bitchy cousins,” he says.
“They’re bitchy and they’re our cousins. Not much else to say.”
Hunter laughs, and the corners of my mouth twitch at how warm the sound is.
“So Katherine likes them, but they’re bitchy to you?”
I shake my head. “Nope. They’re bitchy to both of us. But our aunt is here, and it would upset her and my dad if we didn’t invite them.”
“So the only thing that trumps Katherine’s happiness . . . is your mom’s,” he says knowingly. I feel that gentle poke against my armor again. It’s like he’s trying to understand me. I’m not sure I deserve him to do anything more than hate me.
“I just want everyone to be happy,” I say.
“Er, not technically true. I’m not sure you give a rat’s ass if I’m happy or not.”
“I don’t know you,” I say.
“Well, Lucy, like it or not, you’re going to get to know me this weekend.” He pats me on my leg. “Come on. Let’s call another truce and get on with this weekend. You never know, sharing a room with me could be fun. We might even end up friends.”
I raise my eyebrows, and he laughs. That warm feeling in my stomach kindles to life again.
“Well, as long as I’m not the dead body you bring back in that suitcase, I’m going to consider myself a winner. I’m going to head downstairs and give you your privacy so you can . . . do whatever it is that girls spend hours doing before they go out at night.”
“That reminds me,” I say. “Some boxes were delivered while I was downstairs. They’re all addressed to you.”
“Oh, great. I was worried the blow-up dolls wouldn’t be here in time. Phew.” He makes an exaggerated swipe at his brow, like he just dodged a disaster.
“The what?” I ask, hyperconscious of not screeching despite the alarm bells going off in my head.
“Is that a problem?” he says.
“Is that a—”
“Calm down, I’m kidding,” he interrupts, grinning.
Before I can sputter a reply, he slips out of our bedroom and leaves me to myself. The room feels ten times bigger without Hunter Bain in here. But it also feels significantly more . . . empty.
It’s not until I’m halfway through my own shower that I realize he never told me what’s in those boxes.