CHAPTER 18
Not The End Of Us
Gabriela
It had been three days since I last saw Hunter.
Three days since the shitshow where my friends caught us.
And three days since Hunter opened any of my texts.
Safe to say, my anxiety peaked to a new high and a heavy block of guilt rested on my chest. I hadn’t realized how accustomed I’d gotten to Hunter’s presence that not conversing with him for a mere seventy-two hours felt like a drought.
All my feelings of elation from Friday dried out like the desert.
My goodness, Gabriela. He spent time planning a romantic stargazing night for you.
He gave you his football jersey, an annotated copy of your favourite book, and a handcrafted bookmark from the roses you gifted him.
And you told that man and everyone in the room who was listening that you’re only friends?
No wonder he hasn’t replied to any of your messages.
Just picturing Hunter gently peeling away petals from the roses and inserting them into a resin bookmark with glitter, reading a paranormal romance book with a pen and highlighter so he could write his thoughts in the margins, and packing food in a wicker basket to bring on what I now know was a date—where he recreated one of my favourite book scenes—made my heart clench.
Oh, God.
I couldn’t believe I’d actually hurt him.
I regretted my hasty words. He didn’t deserve that.
I had to talk to him so he knew where I was coming from. Once I explained to him my feelings and thoughts on why I didn’t want to pursue a romantic relationship, he’d understand. He wouldn’t fault me for it, right?
I hoped everything could go back to normal once he heard me out.
Since he hadn’t responded to my texts, I hadn’t expected him to come pick me up today. Therefore, Oscar drove me to school. But my guilt grew tenfold when I realized Hunter didn’t show up to our Monday morning Horror & Cult Classic Cinema class.
I missed him.
I missed him so much that it felt like a limb had been wrenched out of me and now I was aching, bruised, and bleeding all over.
I missed his easy smiles, his husky chuckles, and his princely demeanour.
I missed the way he’d wrap me up in a big hug that felt like a warm awning in a torrential downpour—safe, secure, and sheltering.
I missed the way we could talk about anything and everything under the sun, our easy camaraderie feeling like something I’d been needing all my life without realizing it.
And now I lost it.
Panic sweltered in my frame. No. No. No. I was going to fix this. One way or another. I couldn’t lose Hunter. And if I had to show contrition for my mistake and spend time making amends, then I would do so.
I was willing to pay any price to keep him in my life.
“Gabriela, I asked you to dice the onions. Not…butcher them.”
Mamma’s voice yanked me out of my daze. I stared down at the cutting board in horror. I’d gotten carried away with my knife. The onions were chopped into various cuts, far from uniform and ranging from strips to mince. I winced. “Sorry, Mamma.”
She rubbed a hand down my back. “Are you okay?”
My brows furrowed as I grabbed another onion from the basket and started chopping again, making sure to dice it properly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’ve been pensive for the last few days.” She stirred the pot on the stove next to me. We were making dinner together. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that a certain boy didn’t come to pick you up this morning. Did something happen between you and Hunter?”
I had the tendency to share a lot of things with Mamma, treating her like a confidante and telling her about all my crushes growing up.
Though for some reason, I remained tight-lipped regarding Hunter, sharing nothing beyond the fact that we were friends and he was doing me a solid by picking and dropping me back home during this difficult period.
Papà discreetly ran a background check on Hunter and begrudgingly approved of him.
And Mamma finally introduced herself to Hunter last week, catching up to us before I could convince him to speed out of the driveway.
Of course he charmed her and she practically swooned. Like mother, like daughter, I guessed.
Now she also approved of Hunter and spent her free time pestering me for details about our relationship. If I chose to date again, she’d want me to pick a guy like him.
Shaking my head, I tossed the onions into a pan with olive oil. “I think I hurt him.”
“In what way?”
“Remember when I texted you and Papà on Friday night that I was with Hunter?”
“Yes.”
“Well…he planned a romantic night for us.”
Shocked, she demanded a rundown. Sparing her the scandalous details of our hookup, I relayed the rest, including the part where Anna and Layla bulldozed through our date at the end.
Mamma laughed while simultaneously tutting at their antics. “You have good friends, Gabby. I’m proud to know those girls would go through hell and back for you. But Dio mio, I cannot believe that sweet boy got hurt. At least he was okay afterwards.”
When she noticed I remained quiet, partly from shame and partly because even talking about Hunter brought a pang to my chest, she squeezed my shoulder affectionately.
“Here’s the thing,” she said. “While your relationship with Hunter has been morphing, you’ve been toeing this line between friends and lovers.
Never having discussed being more, I don’t fault you for telling everyone that you are just friends.
Your reaction was valid. So was Hunter’s.
Sometimes, we say things we don’t mean in the spur of the moment and regret them later.
” She shrugged. “And it’s okay because we’re humans.
Mistakes happen. But now I suggest you talk to him honestly, Gabriela.
He’ll understand your point of view.” An impish smile curled her lips.
“Plus, I’ve seen the way that boy looks at you.
He’s so smitten, it’s adorable. I promise you he’ll stop whatever he’s doing for the sake of hearing you out.
Chances are, he’s hurt and tucked himself in a corner, waiting for you to reach out to him.
Communication is the foundation of all strong relationships. Remember that.”
Mamma was right, except… “That’s the problem. Hunter hasn’t opened any of my texts. He didn’t even show up to our class today. How do I talk to him if he’s not responding to me?”
Her expression fell for a split second before resolve stamped on her face. She went back to stirring the pot, thinking. “He still lives in the apartment across from yours, right?”
“Yes, why?”
“Well, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from Enzo”—she enunciated Papà’s name with a sneer—“it’s that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”
I grinned. “Is that how you wooed Papà? By cooking for him?”
She added more salt to her pot and dragged out an exasperated exhale. “Partially. But my point is, I think you should bring Hunter a peace offering. Men never say no to food. It’s one of their vices.”
I supposed that wasn’t a bad idea. Hunter did enjoy the blueberry muffins I baked for him to pair with his black coffee every Monday morning.
And though he wasn’t answering his phone, I doubted he’d deny me if I was at his door with a tray of my famous lasagna and all the humility I possessed. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“Good. Cook him something nice and bring it to his place pronto. You’ll have him eating out of the palm of your hand in no time,” she said. “And once you make up, for God’s sake, invite that boy over for dinner. I want to get to know my future son-in-law properly.”
I actually laughed at her absurdness. “Baby steps, Mamma. I’m not even sure yet if he’ll forgive me. Marriage isn’t even on the table right now.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that Hunter and I would only ever be friends. Nothing more…Right?
“When I was your age, I was already married and a mom of one.”
“Yeah, that’s because you and Papà forgot to use a—”
“Gabriela Regina Bellafiore!” she barked. “You will not finish that sentence!”
I only laughed harder. It was the truth. Nonna confirmed it herself one night after one too many glasses of wine. She also said that I was the biggest blessing in their lives, so I never felt bad about being ‘unplanned.’ “Okay, okay, fine!”
She harrumphed, smacking a spatula against my rump chidingly.
“I’m just excited for you. It’s been years since you’ve dated anyone and I want you to experience some joy.
I can tell Hunter makes you happy. You always smile brighter whenever you come back from seeing him. Why not explore this a little more?”
“I…I don’t know, Mamma.”
“Let me ask you this: do you like him?”
That was a no-brainer. “Yes. Very much. He’s perfect. Like all of my book boyfriends wrapped into one.”
“There you go,” she said smugly. “If you take a chance on him, Gabby, I don’t think you’ll regret it. I have a good feeling about this one.”
I swallowed toughly. “I’ll think about it.”
I wouldn’t. My mind was made.
Even though there was a small voice in the back of my mind telling me that I was kidding with myself if I thought we could remain platonic and just friends.
Mamma huffed. “And if he ends up being like Franco—which I doubt—then don’t worry. Know that Enzo will deal with him.”
Papà approved of Hunter as my friend, but accepting him as more would be a stretch.
No man was good enough for his little girl.
He hadn’t even liked Franco. The only reason why I was able to date him was because Mamma reminded Papà that there was no stopping young love and that I deserved to be with whomever I wanted.
In hindsight, dating Franco was the worst mistake ever.
But at least my papà wasn’t the kind of overbearing where I wasn’t allowed to do anything without his permission.
He exerted control where necessary but was lenient when it came to me making my own life choices. Even if they weren’t always the greatest. But that’s how you learned, right?