Page 7 of When We Were Enemies
“Well, I don’t know what it’s called,” he says, laughing. “You gotta find out if a sinner like me can even be married by a priest and all that.” It sounded like he put verbal quotes around “sinner.”
“I think we’re both sinners in the eyes of the church, babe.”
“Okay, okay. Fine. You’re a sinner—I’m a godless heathen.”
“Who wants to date a saint?” I attempt a sexy rasp.
“Don’t you meanmarrya saint?” he corrects me, lingering on the word “marry.” I don’t know what it is about this guy, but he loves the idea of marriage almost as much as the idea makes me anxious.
“Ha—you know what I mean.”
“I’m glad you don’t mind my godless ways,” he says, flirting. He’s always been a flirt. I used to worry that meant he flirted with all women, like his father, but he insists he’s worked hard to be the exact opposite of Kenneth Garrot when it comes to relationships.
“I love your godless ways.”
“Even if they cause problems with the wedding?” He brings up the concern again and seems to be asking seriously this time around.
“We should be fine. You were baptized Catholic as a baby, so I think that’s all they need. Possibly one or two other things. Gotta dothat Pre-Cana class with the priest. If they ask about your views on God now ... plead the Fifth if you’re sold on this ‘church wedding’ idea ...”
My GPS interjects, directing me to take the next exit. I drift into the right lane without using my blinker.
“Our kids will get to watch the documentary.” Hunter’s voice returns, and I catch only part of what he’s saying.
“Sorry, the GPS cut you off, babe,” I say, dodging the question of kids with Hunter. I want them, obviously, but rushing into parenthood with a man I’ve loved for less than a year is different from rushing into a marriage. Children don’t go away with divorce decrees. And I want to give my children a more stable life than I had. Thankfully, he drops the topic.
“Oh, that’s fine. I have another meeting waiting. I was just saying I’m definitely still up for it. Can we FaceTime later? After your church inquisition? Is it dumb I miss you already?” The sweet vulnerability to his question doesn’t match his public business persona. It’s that tender part of this man that I love.
“Not dumb,” I say, softening my voice to match his tone. “I miss you too.”
The roads have narrowed, and I slow my speed. The GPS declares I’ve reached my destination.
“I’m glad I’m not the only one.”
“Never,” I say, settling into an empty spot on the one-way street lined with brick storefronts and old-timey streetlamps. Quaint. Just like Hunter said. And he’s right—this’ll look great on camera.
I pick up the phone and press it to my cheek. I like holding him close like that; it’s more natural, intimate. “You’re still planning to come out next week, right?”
He hesitates. In that quiet moment, I understand his plans have shifted already. This is what it’ll be like as Hunter’s partner, how it’ll always be.
“I hope so, but the guys from Stockholm are talking about flying in next week, and if so, I gotta be here.”
He’s a romantic. He’s loving. He’s all in. But he’s also only actuallyherehalf the time.
“I get that.” Irritation bubbles up like it always does when I’m stuck in people-pleasing mode. I can be stern in my job, no problem. I can be kind but firm with my employees. But with people I love, it’s harder. I give in, probably too much.
“I mean, I’ll make it out there ASAP. I promise. You know how important this deal is.”
I do know, but I also know how many important things I put on hold for this trip, how I shifted my schedule to work virtually. I moved much of my case load to Marla, my associate and VP, who is likely cursing my name right now—and who has made it no secret that she thinks this whole documentary thing is a terrible idea.
“You mad?” he asks coyly, as though he can read my mind.
“Not mad, really. Just ...”
“Disappointed?” he asks, teasing, as though I’m a mom giving her child a guilt trip.
“Ha, no. More like ...” I search for a gentle way to say that it feels like I’m making all the sacrifices in our relationship and he’s making all the big decisions and that I feel overwhelmed and alone. But that’s a lot, especially for a quick little “checking in” phone call.
Instead, I say, “I don’t know. Nervous, I guess? You know how I feel about being on camera.”
