Chapter 4

Four

OLIVER

“You okay?” Amanda asks as we sit at the dinner table, eating the pasta dish I baked for us for when Hunter arrived. It’s a staple of mine, one of my favorites, and since Amanda told me Hunter loves pasta, that’s what I went with. Something to make his first time back home in a while a little bit nicer, to perhaps ease the fact that his mother was getting married to me in two month’s time. A man he had never met.

Except he had.

Turning around to see him standing there, the boy I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since that night, who had invaded every moment of my existence the last three months, who was making it harder and harder to convince myself that marrying a woman was what I wanted, that what we had done was just a change of pace, was the last thing I expected. It was killing me, knowing that he was Amanda’s son.

Hunter.

No, I was not okay right now. I was very far from okay. I knew he had put two and two together and realized that when we’d fucked it had been during the time that his mother and I were an item.

God, how could I be so stupid? But I had no way of knowing that Hunter was the boy who’d had me so utterly captivated, so smitten, so enthralled, so wanting, that I had let myself do something I never imagined I would do.

Hunter, the beautiful, sexy, young man who had done things to me that I had only ever dreamt about. Amanda’s son. My fiancée’s son.

How could this be happening? How could things have gone so disastrously wrong to end up here? Would Hunter say something to his mother? We were supposed to be leaving for a road trip in only a few days. How were we going to be in such close quarters with each other, traveling together, and pretend like we hadn’t fucked? Twice. Like he hadn’t turned my world upside down.

Bloody hell.

“I’m fine, darling,” is my answer, as I pick at my meal, my stomach in knots, nausea building. I’ve got a tension headache brewing as well. Reaching for my water glass, I take a sip and will it to help me settle, even the tiniest bit.

“Dinner is really good,” she replies, taking another bite. “I’m sorry Hunter couldn’t join us.”

“It's quite alright,” I tell her. “I’m sure he’s tired. We’ll have plenty of time together over the next month.”

She nods and reaches over to squeeze my hand. I manage a small smile. “We’ve got the RV rental secured. I’ll be at the office until the day we leave, so if you and Hunter want to pick it up?”

I nod. “Of course.” I’ve never been in an RV before, so it should be an experience. Normally I would just stay at a hotel, but Amanda assures me it’s a wonderful way to vacation, and enjoy the different camp sites, and I am up for trying something new. Besides, she told me this was how she and Hunter used to vacation and she wanted to make it enjoyable for him.

How enjoyable will it be, I wonder, if I’m along?

We finish our meal and load the dishes into the dishwasher. Amanda turns on the water and starts to wash the pots and pans. “You want to go check on Hunter while I finish up here?” she asks. “See if he’s up for eating anything before we pack up the leftovers?”

The severity of my headache is increasing at the thought, my stomach knotting further, but I nod, and make my way up the stairs to Hunter’s room. Fuck, I’m shaking like a leaf as I reach up and knock on the door lightly. “Hunter?” I say, trying to keep my voice from shaking as well as I say his name for the first time. “Your mother sent me to ask if you would like to eat yet?”

When there’s no answer, I sigh, and twist the knob, slowly opening the door and peeking inside. Hunter is lying on his side, facing away from me, his phone in his hand. Only the lamp on the nightstand illuminates his frame.

“Hunter?” I say again quietly. “Would you like to eat?” I want to talk to him. I want to apologize to him, to tell him I never intended for this to happen, to try and explain. But I don’t. What is there to explain? I fucked up, and he unwittingly was party to it. How he must hate me. I can’t blame him at all, because I fucking hate myself. Though I don’t know if there’s ever been a time where that wasn’t the case.

He doesn’t turn to look at me. “No, thank you.”

“There’s plenty of leftovers if you change your mind,” I say, and then shut the door before making my way back downstairs.

I watch a movie with Amanda, the entire time lost in thoughts of Hunter, of Amanda, of how I’ve inadvertently ruined their relationship with each other, all because of my greed, stupidity, and selfishness. Because of my lack of self control, my own desires, and curiosities. The one time I actually let myself be reckless, let myself indulge, and it’s come back to bite me in the arse more than I ever even considered possible.

Even if Amanda never finds out about Hunter and I, things will undoubtedly never be the same between them again. I’ve put him in an impossible situation. The honorable thing to do would be to confess everything to her and leave Hunter out of it. He didn’t know who I was, and while I didn’t know who he was either, I did know I was cheating. But the thought of saying anything terrifies me, and the thought of Mother and Father finding out, of the wedding being canceled, is enough to make my heart rate spike and sweat break out on my forehead. This wedding is all I have left. It’s my last hope, the lifeline to keep me from drowning. If I can marry Amanda I can forget all of these ridiculous fantasies of being with a man. Everything will fall into place.

Hunter doesn’t come out for the rest of the night, and when Amanda and I make our way up to our own room across the hall from his, the faint light from underneath his doorway is gone completely, telling us he’s asleep.

When Amanda curls up with her head on my chest I tell myself the same thing I’ve been telling myself for months now. It’s for the best . Amanda is kind, intelligent, hard working, beautiful, and she puts up with my parents. She’s everything a man could want. Exactly the kind of woman my parents expected me to marry.

When she leans up and kisses me, I kiss her back, but I can’t help thinking about how her son’s lips felt against mine. Free of make up. Fuller, the bottom lip slightly more so than the top, the smell of his peppermint breath and the orange scent wafting off of him that I’ve clung to, all these months later. I never thought I would see him again, and now that he’s across the hall from me I don’t know what to do. And even though guilt and shame wash over me, I can’t keep my thoughts from straying to him when Amanda’s hand slides down my pants, wishing it was his hand around my cock.

When she wraps her lips around my erection it’s his hair I want to grab on to, his eyes that I want looking up at me. When I come moments later it’s his name that I have to keep from falling from my lips.

It’s for the best , I tell myself over and over again, as I drift to sleep with her in my arms.

HUNTER

When I wake up, it’s daylight, and the sun is splashing light across the room. Rolling over slowly, I check my phone and see it’s nine o’clock. Mom will be at work and hopefully so will Mr. Two-Timing Bastard.

I groan and place a hand over my eyes as I try to reconcile myself with the knowledge that the man I haven’t been able to stop thinking about for three months is in my house, marrying my mother in only two months.

What the actual fuck? Logically I know there’s no way I could have known it was him when we slept together. Neither one of us gave our names, I had never seen a picture of him. He never bothered to fucking tell me he had a girlfriend. I never would have fucked him if I’d known. I know this isn’t on me.

But then another thing occurs to me. They’ve been engaged for almost three months. Did he go out and propose to her the very next day? What the actual hell? I’m so fucking pissed off, confused and hurt I don’t know where to start. Was he just using me as one last hurrah before he asked Mom to marry him? How fucked up is that? I want to strangle him for putting me in the middle of this against my knowledge, for making me think he cared, even a little bit, for spending so much energy and time thinking about him. I can’t believe I shed tears over the asshole. And how can I let Mom marry someone who was unfaithful to her? Does she know? Should I say something? I don’t know how to do that without ruining everything.

My stomach grumbles and I have to pee, so I guess I should start there.

Sliding out of bed, I make my way to the bathroom across the hall in my pajama bottoms and no shirt. I pee, wash my hands, run my fingers through my hair before tying it back in a messy bun, and then make my way downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast and coffee. It’s quiet, thank God. I could use the time to myself, away from Mom and Oliver to figure things out. Like how the hell I’m supposed to go on a two week long road trip with them, watching Oliver share a bed with Mom, watch them kiss and flirt and hold hands, while I try to pretend like nothing happened between us. I’m so pissed that I slam my coffee mug down on the counter before getting a k cup out and placing it in the Keurig. I turn it on and wait for it to warm up before setting my mug under the dispenser and pushing the button.

“Good morning,” I hear and start, turning to see Oliver standing there in slacks and a button down shirt, sleeves rolled up and the first couple of buttons undone. He looks exactly like he did the night we fucked. And even though I hate myself for it, I find I can’t look away. He’s too fucking pretty not to stare at.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I snarl, finally meeting his gaze, and remembering that I’m fucking furious with him. He flinches at my words. Good. If he thinks I’m going to be nice to him, pretend like nothing ever happened, like he didn’t cheat on Mom, he’s got another thing coming.

“I…I work from home,” he says.

“Of course you fucking do.” My words are bitter as I wait impatiently for my coffee so that I can get the fuck out of here. So much for enjoying my alone time. Looks like I’ll either be stuck in my room all day or out doing I don’t know what.

“Hunter,” he says, in a way that has my chest squeezing, as he steps closer to me. I hold my hand up and shake my head.

“No,” I say firmly. “Don’t.”

“It was a mistake,” he continues, making my heart fall into my stomach. Don’t I want him to admit that, though? To admit he was just stressed or overwhelmed, that he didn’t mean to cheat on Mom? So why does it hurt so much? “I didn’t?—”

“No!” I shout, and I hate that I have tears stinging my eyes. I grab my coffee and even though I would normally be decorating it with cream and sugar, I take it black so I can get the fuck away from him.

When I reach my room, I slam the door and lock it behind me. He isn’t worth my tears.

Unfortunately I’m still fucking starving even after I gag down the bitter coffee, but there’s no way I’m going back downstairs.

Around seven that evening I hear a knock on my door. I’ve only left twice to go to the bathroom and shower, and other than that I’ve stayed put. I have my phone and a television, my video games, so I don’t need to leave. But I’m so hungry now I feel sick.

“Hunter,” I hear his sultry British voice, and my jaw clenches when a shiver runs down my spine. Fuck him. “Your mother won’t be home until late. I made dinner if you want some. I’ll be in my room so you can get it without worrying about running into me.”

I wait until I hear him move across the hall and shut the door to the master bedroom. Then I slip out of my room and down the stairs to the kitchen where I pile my plate high with french fries and breaded fish. I moan when I’m back up in my room and stuffing my face. The man might be an absolute fuckwad, but he can cook.

I play video games for a while after my plate is clean, before I hear Mom’s footsteps ascending the stairs, and there’s an ache in my chest at the knowledge that she’s sharing a bed with Oliver. That she’s the one in his arms, that she’s kissing him, touching him, being fucked by him. The man cheated, twice, and I hate him for it, but I also hate that he’s in my house and I’m not allowed to touch him. He isn’t mine. He will never be mine. How can I go the rest of my life with him as my stepfather when what I want is for him to be my lover? How can I still desire him when I know the kind of man he is? How can I sleep, knowing what’s going on down the hall from me, between my mom and the only man who’s ever made me want more than a one night stand?

How am I going to survive the next month, let alone the next thirty years, being in his presence and pretending I don’t want him?

I turn my game off after another hour, then go across the hall to brush my teeth and use the bathroom, thankful that if anything is going on behind their closed door I can’t hear it. I finish in the bathroom before returning to my room. I close my door and climb into bed. I lie there for several more hours before I finally fall asleep. And even then, it’s restless.