Page 98 of Now and Then

Me: I’m going to head out.

Now that the master suite is done, I’m not sure what Hunter’s plans are. Will he still want to sleep with me every night? Or will he be ready for space now that his home is available? But I don’t have the energy to take this on right now. Instead, I send a passive-aggressive text.

Me: See you when I see you.

There’s really no use making him moving back home any more awkward. I’ll give him time to figure it out. I’m sliding my phone into my back pocket when it vibrates.

Hunter: I’ll see you in about ten minutes.

All of a sudden, I feel nervous. What if Hunter has already made up his mind? And what if it’s not what I want to hear? I shouldn’t be here when he gets here.

Me: No worries.

Me: I’m going to head back to my place.

Me: Let you settle into yours.

My phone rings, and his face flashes across my screen. Nervous energy washes over me. I know I’m being silly, but I feel so out of my element. How do we go from best friends to whatever we are now? The first I know how to do, but this new phase of our relationship? I need a guidebook or a floaty or a guru. I answer and press the phone to my ear.

“Babe,” Hunter says, “I’m not sure what’s going through that head of yours, but don’t you dare leave.”

“Hi to you too.” I smile to myself as I lean against the edge of his dresser.

“I’m just about home. Sorry I didn’t get a chance to text earlier. Work was stupid busy today.”

“It’s alright. I was busy today too.”

There’s a lightness in his voice when he says, “I can’t wait to see our room. Be there soon.”

He ends the call, not waiting for my reply. Not that I’d have known what to say.

Our room.

Those words have sent my mind into an even further tailspin.

He tosses our around so casually, as if he knows we’re a sure thing. In one part of my mind, I feel it too. The idea that we’re meant to be together. But after our emotional conversation at the Halloween party, there’s a small part of me waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I slip my boots on, gather my bags, and head to my vehicle. I’m starting to shut the driver side door when Hunter comes tearing down the driveway. He doesn’t bother turning his truck off or shutting his truck door before he’s out and stomping across the yard in my direction. “I could have sworn,” his voice booms, “I told you not to leave.”

“Who says I have to do what you tell me?” My voice is laced in sarcasm.

He’s had his moments of being dominant in a way that set my body on fire, but just because my body wants to cave to his every whim doesn’t mean I have to listen all the time.

“Get out of your car and into the truck,” he says, gesturing over his shoulder to his idling Ford.

I narrow my eyes at him. He narrows his at me.

Thunder rumbles in the distance, the storm the meteorologist promised rolling into the valley. Looks like trick-or-treating is going to be a wet one this year.

“Babe,” he says, shoulders dropping on an exhale, “it’s been a long day. All I want to do is see you and spend time with you. Please, get in the truck.”

I crack my car door a little, and he opens it the rest of the way.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“A drive.” He walks backward, never taking his eyes off me, and opens the passenger door of his truck.

The temperature has dropped, and a cold breeze sweeps past me, rustling my hair from its chignon. Storm clouds pile in the distance, but I’m not sure where the storm will break—out there or right here. I take a few steps in his direction, and he breathes a sigh of relief. When I reach him, he holds out his hand and helps me into the truck.