Page 60 of Merritt and Her Childhood Crush
“I told you it wasn’t a good idea,” Hunter’s dad says, his tone even. The cadence of his words is so similar to the way Hunter speaks, I practically do a double-take.
But then Hunter’s mother squeals and starts dabbing her eyes with a tissue. “So, itisa date! Oh, Hunter.” She sets down the tissue and takes my hand. “Merritt, you have grown into such a beautiful woman. I’m so happy to see you back. And here. With our Hunter.”
“I—thank you.” I’m slightly embarrassed—I mean, this is a LOT to handle—but Hunter looks ready to blow a fuse.
Kicking off my flip-flop, I extend my foot under the table and hook it around his calf. When he looks up to meet my eye, I shrug and smile, hoping he understands at least a little of my meaning.They’re here. We might as well make the most of it.
Hunter pulls out his phone while his parents are busy grabbing a waitress and placing orders. He taps something out, then nods in my direction. I slip my phone out of my bag to find a message he apparently just sent.
Hunter:I cannot apologize enough.
Merritt:Your parents are adorable. So are you when you’re embarrassed. Your ears turn red.
As he reads this message, they turn even redder. So do his cheeks. And I wasn’t lying; itisadorable.
Hunter:Stop it.
Merritt:I’d like to see you make me in front of your mom.
Hunter:We aren’t finished with our date.
Merritt:Fine by me. As long as we also aren’t finished kissing.
I rub my foot up his calf to his knee while he’s reading my message. Not too far. Just far enough. Hunter clears his throat and puts his phone face down on the table and shoots me a look that says I better behave, even if he doesn’t truly want me to.
I slide my foot back down to his ankle, realizing how deliciouslyfunthis feels.
I can’t remember the last time my life feltfun.Or whenIfelt fun. Sadie is fun. Eloise is fun. Somehow, I’ve turned into the serious one. The responsible one. The least likely to play footsie with a man on a first date.
I could get drunk off this feeling, this buzzing, almost reckless excitement.
Suddenly, I become aware that Hunter’s parents have finished ordering and are both watching us. Hunter’s dad looks embarrassed, as though he walked in on us kissing or something. His mom, however, has her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands, smiling as her eyes bounce between Hunter and me.
“Are you texting each other while you’re at the same table? That issoadorable.”
Hunter groans. “Mom, you need to stop.”
“I can’t.”
“Then take it down a notch,” Hunter says.
“She is physically incapable,” his dad says. “This is her lowest setting.”
I laugh, partly because it is funny and partly because I see exactly where Hunter’s understated humor comes from.
“It’s fine,” I say. “It’s really good to meet you both.”
Hunter glares. He stops glaring when I slowly move my toes a few inches up his calf.
“Merritt,” Hunter’s mother says, turning my attention away from Hunter’s leg. “We sure were sad to hear about your grandmother’s passing. She was a wonderful woman.”
My breath catches at the mention of Gran. I know I’m living on her property, but the reality of her being gone only hits me sometimes. When it does, it usually hits hard.
Carol must see that I’m struggling because she flits right on to asking me about my sisters and the renovations and if I still paint and how I liked living in New York. I’m not sure I’ve met a more talkative woman, which is so funny given the way the two men at the table are silent through most of our exchange. Except when either Hunter or his father feels the need to jump in and correct something or drop an unexpected one-liner. I get a very clear sense of what dinners might have been like at their house.
Hunter’s phone vibrates against the tabletop just after his parents finish eating, right as a debate starts about whether or not we’re going to order dessert. I’m silently voting no, agreeing with Hunter’s dad, but probably for very different reasons. Namely: I am really looking forward to walking back to the carriage house with Hunter. I meant what I said in my text about the kissing.
Hunter’s expression shifts the second he puts the phone to his ear. “Hey, hey, slow down,” he says. “I can’t understand you.”
