Chapter 13
13
HUNTER
When I arrive at the coffee shop, Nina is already waiting, fidgeting with her mug of tea.
“Hey,” I greet her, taking a seat. “Any idea what this is about?”
Nina shakes her head, blonde hair swishing. “Not a clue. But I hope everything’s okay.”
I glance toward the sidewalk as if expecting Rowena to appear. “Me too. How are things with Tristan? How’s the Co-ed?”
Nina gives me such a bright smile in response, I consider putting on my shades. I click my tongue. “Lots of sex, then?”
“Yep, but also lots of cuddling.” She chuckles. “Who could’ve guessed the Prince of Darkness was a teddy bear?”
A server interrupts, taking my order.
When he goes away, Nina asks, “What about you? Is my brother still being a pig?”
The compulsion to be honest with her grips me again like it did the other night when we were texting back and forth. But Dylan has a girlfriend. It’s a complicated situation, and I don’t want to put her in the middle of it.
Just then, Rowena arrives, saving me from having to answer as we both focus on her. I had expected to find her frazzled or stressed. Instead, Winnie is glowing, her hazel eyes bright behind her black-rimmed glasses. The fake engagement suits her.
After we exchange hugs and she orders her drink, Rowena catches us up on the latest developments in her pregnancy and new home. She’s seven weeks along now, and things with Adrian are going smoothly. But what she wanted to discuss is whether she should tell Liam, the biological father, about the baby.
Nina is the first to respond, her green eyes wide. She insists that Rowena should not tell him, and I nod in agreement. After everything that jerk put her through, Liam doesn’t deserve to be let back into Rowena’s life.
“Winnie, that guy is bad news. All he ever did was make you doubt yourself and feel small. What if Liam were the same with the baby? Don’t invite that toxicity back in.”
Rowena bites her lip, clearly torn, her gaze shifting between us. “You’re right, both of you. It’s not fair to my baby to willingly expose them to a manipulator when they’re too little to protect themselves.”
We toast to leaving deadbeat dads where they belong—far away—and the mood brightens as we talk about Adrian. Rowena shows us the ring he bought her and mentions that we’ll get to meet him at the engagement party in three weeks.
I slam my palm on the table, sending our coffee mugs rattling. “Three weeks? Oh, hell no, we can’t wait that long to meet the mysterious Adrian West! It’ll be way too awkward if the engagement party is the first time we’re introduced.”
We insist a bit, and Rowena reluctantly agrees to ask him if we can get together sooner. With the promise she’ll introduce us to Adrian soon, we all hug goodbye and go our separate ways. The café is close to my apartment—it was one of our favorites when we lived together—so I walk the few blocks home, enjoying the early-evening sun that is still bright but not as hot. It’s late-ish when I get back.
I let myself in, feeling like an intruder. I listen for signs of Dylan’s presence, but he mustn’t be home yet. The apartment is quiet, too quiet. Empty without Rowena’s laughter or Nina’s chatter. I head to the kitchen and rummage through the freezer, settling on a frozen dinner.
The microwave dings and I grab my food, locking myself in my room. I refuse to risk running into Dylan after what happened this morning. I eat my unremarkable chicken fried rice in bed, watching video tutorials on my phone on how to create the perfect online dating profile.
Step one: don’t look like you’ve been eating sad microwaveable dinners alone.
I apply the newly gained expertise to draft a semi-decent, witty bio but don’t post it yet. I’ll wait until tomorrow when I’m with Clara for validation. Baby steps.
* * *
The next day, I meet up with my colleague for lunch as promised. Over Caesar salads, I show Clara my draft profile.
“Oh, Hunt, this is perfect.” She scrolls through my pics next. “Your bio is hilarious, and these pictures? Absolute fire.”
A smile breaks across my face, but my fingers fidget with the edge of my napkin. “You think so?”
“Absolutely. You’re going to have matches flooding in.” She hands my phone back, grinning. “And that’s great because online dating is a numbers game, Hunt. It sounds awful, but you’ve got to go on as many dates as possible.”
I wrinkle my nose. “That seems exhausting.”
Clara shrugs. “But it’s the best way to find someone you click with. Come on, let’s make the profile live and see if we’ve got any keepers.”
We spend the next half hour swiping through potential suitors, giggling at the more outrageous profiles. By the end of lunch, I have four dates, one each night from tonight through Friday.
Look at me, living my best rom-com dreams. I can almost hear the upbeat music in the background as the down-on-her-luck heroine turns around her sad love life. Should I get a makeover, too? Maybe not. At the rate I’m going, I’m pretty sure even Bridget Jones would tell me to slow down.
* * *
That night, back at the apartment, I rummage through my closet to find the perfect outfit for tonight. I settle on a sleek, black dress that’s at the same time simple but sexy. As I apply the finishing touches to my makeup, I hear the front door open and close. Dylan must be home.
I freeze, listening for any signs of Olivia tagging along. When I don’t catch her voice or laugh, I consider it safe to go.
Grabbing my clutch, I take one last peek in the mirror and give myself an encouraging nod.
The self-confidence lasts as long as it takes for me to step out of my room and almost collide with Dylan in the hallway. His eyes widen as they roam over me. “Wow, Hunt. You look… amazing. Where are you off to?”
He’s wearing a suit and looks like a hotshot banker fantasy in the flesh. My brain short-circuits.
“I’ve got a date tonight. And tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that. All different guys.”
Oh my gosh, where is the sea witch?
Dylan’s eyebrows disappear under his blond fringe, a hint of something unreadable in his expression. “Well, good for you. I hope you have a great time.” He steps aside, letting me pass.
As I walk out of the apartment, I almost face-palm myself, then remember the fresh makeup and settle for an inward cringe. When will I ever stop acting like a total moron around Dylan?