Hunter shakes his head. “I’m good.”
“Very well then.” Branson goes to hang up his coat and sees the garment bag. “Katie, love, I see you’ve gotten your dress. Jasmine said you went with the burgundy one. Thank you for picking that one because it’s my favorite.”
Hunter looks at me like a boy who just had his puppy run over by a car. “Good night, Katie.”
He’s out the door, and I don’t run after him.
I’m hurt by his accusations, and I’m saddened by his actions. And I’m being summoned by a Brit who has way too many tasks for me on a day when I need to focus.
Chapter Seventeen
Hunter
There are a few things I am a master in.
Football, producing, cooking, and whiskey.
And then there’s women.
In thirty-three years, I’ve had many women. I’ve never used one, nor have I been disrespectful. In fact, my intentions are always to make the woman feel incredible.
Tell a woman she looks beautiful in her dress, and her bad day turns right around. Offer to cook her dinner, and it surpasses any expensive meal. Give her a foot rub, and she’s putty in your hands whether that was your intention or not.
While I aim to please women, I know that many have their sights set on something long-term. That is why I let them know from the beginning that I’m not looking for anything serious.
Cassidy taught me that.
I never talk about her because I feel awful for breaking her heart. She was the girl I had my first wet dream about, my sister’s best friend who was always at our place for sleepovers and on family vacations with us at the beach. She was two years older than me and developed at a time when I started noticing girls. I couldn’t keep my eyes off Cassidy. She, however, only saw me as the younger brother.
Then, I grew. The boy came home from college a man, and Cassidy noticed. I remember the day. We were home for the night before Thanksgiving. She was at the bar when I offered to buy her a drink with my fake ID. She took one double take and eyed me up and down, and I knew she no longer saw me as a kid.
We didn’t hook up then. I was still the younger guy, her best friend’s baby brother. That didn’t stop me from putting on the charm. Our relationship evolved. She was telling me stories and asking for my opinion whenever we saw each other. I told her she could do better than whatever guy she was dating and made sure she knew just how beautiful she was, even when she was hungover and looking like death.
Then, one day, right after college, I saw her at a family party. We hadn’t seen each other in months, and something changed. I saw it in the flick of her eyes and the parting of her lips. I’d filled out over the years, so I knew from her dilated pupils that my physical appearance was stirring something inside of her. I was also a college graduate, being scouted by NFL football teams, and embarking on a career. I was a man. The two years between us evaporated.
We started fooling around on the side without my sister knowing. The girl I used to think about when I was sixteen and alone in my room was now beneath me, naked and telling me she loved me. That felt so fucking good.
As an exclusive couple, we couldn’t hide our relationship. We told Melissa, who didn’t try to cover her disgust and disapproval. She supported us though because she saw how happy we were. She made Cassidy promise never to break my heart. Problem was, she never made me do the same.
As the months went by, we were happy, and yet something felt off. I’d wanted her for so long, but here I was, with her as mine, and I wasn’t feeling that spark.
I knew it existed. My father had told me about it one day when we were sitting by the fire. He’d said it was what gave him strength when my mother was sick.
I knew the spark was strong because his love for her shone the brightest in those weeks. I’d watched him cry in the dark when he thought everyone was asleep. He’d bag some of her favorite things to keep her occupied while she had her chemotherapy treatments. When he’d signed us up for a cancer walk, he’d even made our family matching T-shirts that said, Fancy Nancy’s Fighting Crew. They were her favorite color. Lavender. He always wore that shirt with pride to every appointment she went on.
My parents don’t just love each other. They support one another, live for the other. They protect and honor, and they will move mountains to ease the other’s pain.
I loved Cassidy, but I wasn’t sure if I felt that deep love. The kind that was going to get us through the dark times. We hadn’t had any yet. Life was too easy. So, I kept going.
We were together for so long that it was expected that I would propose. My sister helped me pick out the ring Cassidy wanted. I proposed to her at her favorite restaurant on the waterfront. She said yes before I was even off the ground. Bursting with excitement, she talked about kids and the home we’d live in … the future.
That was when I couldn’t fight it anymore.
I couldn’t picture growing old with her.
The children she envisioned didn’t seem possible.
When I was on my deathbed, I wouldn’t look up at her and know I’d lived a good life because I spent it with my best friend.
I wasn’t in love with her.
She wasn’t my spark.
Breaking her heart ruined me.
I know my strengths, and I know my faults. I still pine after women. Spotting a gorgeous woman on the other side of the bar and sending over a drink to her, watching her appraise me from afar and getting that look of approval, is part of the fun. The flirting, the attraction—that’s the best thing about being single in New York. It’s exciting. It’s easy. It’s also superficial.
That’s why I have the two-week rule. If a glimmer of a spark isn’t there, then I move on. It’s short enough to be fun yet not long enough to break hearts.
Then, I met Katie.
That was two years ago, and I swear, at the mention of her name, my chest swells, and my pulse throbs.
I remember the day I walked into Branson’s office and saw his new assistant sitting there. Blonde hair, always pulled back, showing off her sweetheart face, and pouty pink lips. She has these incredible eyes that are innocent and bright.
She looked at me with a happy greeting of a young woman who hadn’t been jaded by life, someone who still found the excitement in the mundane. I love that about her.
One day, I was having a particularly shitty morning when I walked in, and she was arranging a bouquet of roses at her desk. I asked if a boyfriend had sent them, and she replied no.
She’d bought them because, as she said, “Sometimes, it’s good to do sweet things for yourself to remember that you’re pretty damn awesome.”
She turned my morning right around with that one.
Since then, I show up fifteen minutes early for my daily meeting with Branson just so I can soak up her sunshine.
Katie wasn’t someone I had my sights on. She was young, fresh out of college, and my boss’s assistant. Those things were a no-go from the beginning.
Then, I started to fall for her.
I can’t tell you when I realized I loved Katie McGee. Maybe it built slowly with her corny puns or the silly sweaters she wore. It could have been her talks about work, making me realize how smart she was.
She’s so fucking smart.
She analyzes ratings data like no one I’ve ever seen and has incredible input. She works hard and always pays attention when you’re speaking.