Sex, Not Love(73)

“Be home by ten,” I told her. “And Yakshit walks you up to the apartment door and waits for you to get in, or you’ll have two parents in prison when I’m done with him.”

“You’re not even scary. Now, if Hunter said that, Yak might…” Izzy smirked, “…shit his pants.”

I laughed, telling her to watch her language. She hugged me goodbye—something new she’d started doing the last few days. It made me wonder if she felt bad that I’d been dumped. Either way, I’d take whatever I could get from her, however I could get it.

Just as ice-cream-overload nausea began to set in, my cell phone rang. A picture of Anna and me, cheek to cheek on her wedding day, popped up. I set the carton down on the coffee table and propped up my feet.

“Thank God. I was on track to finish off an entire pint of Ben and Jerry’s without a distraction.”

“Mmm…. Chunky Monkey?”

“Nope.” I rubbed my bloated stomach. “Cherry Garcia.”

“Well, save some for after we hang up, because you’re going to need it.”

My heart started to pound in my chest. Anna and I had just talked a few days ago after I made my flight reservations for the christening. She’d mentioned that they hadn’t seen Hunter since he’d been back, but that he was coming over for dinner last night. Obviously whatever she was about to tell me was about him.

“What? If he brought a date, I don’t think I want to hear about it, Anna.”

“He came alone. He didn’t bring a date.”

I felt infinitesimally better. “Is he bringing one to the christening?”

“No. That’s not what this is about.”

I started to panic. “What’s going on?”

“Hunter got drunk last night. I mean, really drunk. And he started talking about his brother’s death and got really upset. Did you know his brother committed suicide? I didn’t until last night.”

Before the gravity of her words could sink in, I heard a wail in the background. “Shoot, Nat. Caroline just woke up. I’m sorry. I thought she’d be down for longer. Let me call you back in two minutes. I’ll grab her and settle her so we can talk.”

“Oh my God. You can’t leave me hanging for long. Hurry.”

“I will!”

***

I’d swapped my pint of ice cream for a glass of wine, downed the entire thing, and was filling glass two before my cell started to ring. “God, that was ten minutes, not two.”

“I’m sorry. She was fussy.”

“Can you talk now?”

“Yes. She just latched on, so I’m going to have to talk low while I breastfeed. But it’s either that or I call you back when she’s done.”

“Start talking.”

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“At the beginning. Tell me everything.”

“Okay, well…it was a strange evening right from the start. Normally he has a beer or two. But when Derek offered him a Stella, he said he’d rather have a Jack and Coke. To be honest, it looks like he’s been hitting the bottle lately. His hair’s always a little disheveled—you know, he has that naturally messy but owns it kinda look, but last night he looked like shit. He had dark circles under his eyes, hadn’t shaved in a while, and it seemed like he’d slept in his clothes. There was some sort of unspoken communication between Derek and Hunter when he said he needed a drink. Derek nodded as if he understood, as if the two of them had done this dance before.”

I’d wanted him to struggle after we parted ways, but hearing it didn’t give me the gratification I’d assumed it would. Instead, it felt like I’d been punched in the gut.

“I didn’t know his brother committed suicide,” I told her. “He said he was sick. But I don’t understand what brought it all to the surface now. He died years ago, right? Was it the anniversary of his death or something?”

“None of it makes sense. Let me keep going and maybe you’ll understand it better.”

“Okay…”

“So he throws back the first drink in, like, three minutes. I watched Derek make it. The thing was basically whiskey in a glass with a splash of Coke. Hunter didn’t even wince swallowing it down. After the second one, he grumbled that he’d gotten a promotion at work.”

“He grumbled about a promotion?”

“Yep. When I congratulated him and said that was great news, he told me life wasn’t about the news—it was about the first person you wanted to tell that news to.”

Ironic. Two days ago Izzy had been named game MVP, and my first instinct was to text Hunter to let him know. It was a small thing, and it took all of two seconds to remember I had no reason to text Hunter anymore, but my gut reaction had hit me funny, and the rest of my evening had been tarnished by that moment. I’d felt sad after that, instead of happy. I hadn’t allowed myself to analyze why it had affected me so much, but Hunter had nailed it—life is about the person you want to call first to tell good news.

I sighed into my cell. “He was sad he couldn’t call his brother?”

“No. He was referring to you, Nat.”

“I’m confused. I thought you said he was sad about his brother.”