Page 27 of Hunter's Baby Girl

“You do?” Megan asked, her voice going up an octave and getting sort of squealy. “Who with? Tell me, tell me!”

I closed my eyes. “With Hunter, actually.”

A beat. “Hunter? Like, Hunter from the club?” she asked.

I sort of hoped he wasn’t “Hunter from the club” anymore and that he was playing with me exclusively, but I chose to avoid that conversation in that moment. “Yeah, that Hunter. You know we’ve been playing on and off, right? I told you that.”

“Sure, of course,” she said. “I just didn’t know that was still on. Wow, it’s been a few months now, hasn’t it?”

“Has it?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“Hayley,” she replied in that motherly tone of voice I knew so well. “Don’t give me that fake, casual voice. I know you too well. What’s really going on here?”

I sighed. There was no fooling her. “I don’t know, really. We’re just sort of . . . hanging out when we can.”

“Do you like him?” she asked.

“If I didn’t like him, I wouldn’t be hanging out with him.”

“But do you like him like him? You know what I mean.”

“What is this?” I asked in exasperation. “Middle school?”

“You like him for real, don’t you?” she asked. When I didn’t answer, she continued. “Hayley, I’m just going to come right out with this. He has a lot of hurt. Everybody who’s spent time with him at the club knows that. He doesn’t want to get involved with anybody.”

“I know that,” I said, and I couldn’t keep the note of misery out of my voice. I didn’t need to be reminded of how much he wanted to avoid becoming involved.

“And yet here you are,” she said. “Falling for him. Am I right?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. She was right. She knew me too well.

“Listen. I love you. I don’t want to see you get hurt. Just please, take a step back. Evaluate. Find out whether this is really worthwhile. Ask yourself if he’s as fully invested in this relationship as you are. Okay? Will you do that?”

I slumped against the kitchen counter. She was so right.

“Yeah,” I said flatly. “I will. I promise.”

We hung up, and I looked around the kitchen. The table was set, complete with flowers and candles. The stew was simmering gently on the stove, the bread was warming in the oven. I had a bottle of red wine open and breathing on the counter.

And I felt like a total fool.