Waking up with Lennon in my arms was heaven, and I hated having to get up and leave. My only motivation was knowing I’d see her after work because even though our fake relationship is over, I still enjoy spending time with her in the evenings.
Nothing monumental happened at the office while I was gone, and after reviewing the current progress, I left the jobsite pleased. We’ll be finished in two to three months, and we’re on target to meet our planned budget as long as nothing terrible happens. Before lunch, just as I’m sitting at my desk to turn on my computer, my phone vibrates. I unlock it and see a text from Jenna. Considering I rushed her out of the apartment on Sunday, then rejected her call, I’m surprised it took her this long.
Jenna: Can we talk?
The dread immediately sets in, but I know this conversation can’t be avoided—not this time and not with what she’s claiming. Her showing up at the apartment again can’t happen, and we have unfinished business to resolve. I think about what to say to her and know it’s a conversation we should have face to face. Sure, I’m an asshole at times, but this is a serious accusation. I ask her to lunch, and we decide to meet in thirty minutes a few blocks away at a small burger place.
Her being pregnant weighs heavily on my mind as I contemplate exactly what I’m going to say. I check the time, grab my keys, then drive over. When I arrive, she’s already sitting at a booth by the window in the corner. Jenna waves, and I force out a grin and take a seat in front of her. It’s awkward as hell, and I’m grateful the waiter quickly walks up and takes our drink and food order. Moments later, he’s setting down our waters.
“How was your trip?” She casually takes a sip of her drink.
“Great. Weather was nice.” I’m not sure how to start the conversation, so I let her talk while I find my words.
“Listen. I know this entire situation is awkward for you. It is for me too, but we need to discuss the options of what’s going to happen next,” she states.
“Were you with other people when we were hanging out?” I come right out and ask. Raising my eyebrows, I watch her carefully and notice she’s more tense than I am.
She opens her mouth, then closes it before exhaling. Jenna’s always been a bad liar, and her hesitation gives her away.
“You were,” I say.
“We never agreed to be exclusive, Hunter,” she finally tells me.
I shake my head. “I didn’t expect you to be. But you can’t be sure I’m the father of your baby if you were with someone else. A few days ago, you were determined that I was, but how can you be, considering?”
“Based on my expected due date, I figured out when I would’ve ovulated, and you’re the only person I was with during that time,” she tells me confidently.
“Jenna…” Lowering my voice, I look her straight in her eyes, hoping she’ll see I’m not playing her games. I’m not sure how to word my next sentence because I don’t want it to come out harsh. She’s trying to trap me, and it pisses me off beyond belief.
“I know you’re the father, Hunter. You have to be.” I can tell she’s getting upset, and it’s the last thing I need right now.
“I’m certain I’m not. We used protection every single time. I’m encouraging you to tell whoever else you were with that he could possibly be a father because it’s not fair for him not to know.” There’s more to the story on why I’m so confident I’m not, but it’s honestly none of her business. Only Hayden knows.
Our food arrives, pulling us both away from the discussion. Though it’s the middle of the lunch rush and the restaurant is full, I know this conversation has to happen right here, right now.
Tears begin rolling down her cheeks. I’m not sure if she’s crying because I refuse to accept this or because deep down she knows someone else could be the father.
“This is all going to work out,” I say, trying to comfort her but knowing I can’t.
She shakes her head. “No, it’s really not going to be okay. One drunken night, in a moment of weakness, I hooked up with Craig.”
Jenna covers her face in embarrassment, and I actually feel for her since that’s her ex who cheated on her before we got together. I understand why she’d be so upset with him being the father. It all makes perfect sense now.
“He deserves to know, Jenna,” I tell her, then pick up my burger and take a bite. She eats too, and we stay silent while we eat.
“You could still be the father, Hunter. I haven’t been on birth control since I broke up with Craig months before, and while I know you and I used protection, it’s not foolproof. You can’t know for sure.”
I grow more frustrated with her, but I try to push it away. Her ex was a piece of shit, and knowing I’m not the dad means he’s back in her life again. It’s not a healthy situation for her or the baby.
“I do know for sure,” I tell her confidently.
“So what do you want me to do? Just forget about us? Forget we ever happened? Take your word for it because you don’t want to be the father of my baby?” She snarls, her voice rising and drawing attention to us. I was actually wondering how long it would be until she had a meltdown.
“That’s exactly what I want you to do. Look, it tears me to fucking shreds to know I hurt you and that you wanted more out of the relationship than I could ever offer. I told you time and time again that I couldn’t give you anything more. Now you’re pulling this and—”
“It’s because of her, isn’t it?” She searches my face, and I swallow down the food that feels like it’s lodged in my throat.
I can’t even find it inside me to argue, so I don’t say anything at all.
“You can deny it all you want, but I could tell by the way you two looked at each other when I showed up. The way you’ve always looked at her. I knew the moment I met her that you had a thing for her. It’s more than obvious.” Jenna lets out an annoyed huff, wiping away her tears before they fall.
My blood pumps faster, and I can feel my pulse pounding in my neck. For years, I believed everyone was fooled by the way I treated Lennon, but apparently, I’ve been transparent, even to Jenna. “What do you want me to say? What do you want from me?”
Jenna glares at me, and if looks could kill, I’d be dead. She’s hurting, that much I can see, but I can’t be the man to fix it for her. She digs in her purse and pulls out a twenty dollar bill and tosses it on the table. “We’re done here.”
“Wait,” I say, and she stops for a second. “You have to tell Craig. You need to tell him today so he can be a part of the pregnancy,” I nearly beg, knowing how much she’ll need someone during this time. But it can’t be me.
“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer, Hunter,” she hisses my name like it’s poison.
“Looking forward to it.” Picking up my burger, I take a bite and continue eating without a worry in the world.
She groans, then storms out of the restaurant. Though I know this isn’t over, I let out a relieved breath and finish my fries.
“You need a to-go box for that?” The waiter looks at the plate of food she barely touched, then hands me the bill.
“Nah, man. She ain’t coming back,” I tell him, and he shrugs as if he can’t be bothered by it either. I pay, then head back to work.
When I arrive back to my office, I go straight to my computer to answer emails. Being gone even a few days has put me behind, but I don’t complain. I reply to people for hours, then update my status reports and send it out to the other project managers who helped cover my job.
When I finally break away from the screen, I realize it’s time to go. As I’m packing my laptop in my bag, my boss stops and actually gives me a compliment on the project. Considering he says positive things to his employees as if he might get struck by lightning, it makes me feel good as hell. I walk out to my truck with a smile on my face because even though lunch was a disaster, it’s been a good day otherwise. I’m almost convinced it started on the right foot because I woke up with Lennon in my arms this morning.
Yesterday, I told myself that what we shared in Utah had to stay there. We accomplished what we wanted and convinced her parents, which meant my job of playing husband was done except for the Instagram photos. When we walked into the apartment, I’d accepted it was over until she texted me to lay with her. Thinking about how she instantly falls asleep when I’m close has me grinning like an idiot. I wanted it as much as she did. My bed is too damn sad and empty. The thought of her consumes me the rest of the drive home.
I walk into the apartment that’s squeaky fucking clean and find Lennon in the kitchen making dinner. Grabbing a beer, I watch her and notice her trying to avoid eye contact. She mentions dinner will be ready, and I excuse myself to compose my thoughts. When I walk away, I look over my shoulder at her and catch her staring, then shoot a wink her way. Blush meets her cheeks, and I hold back a chuckle. Lennon is as transparent as me, apparently.
I change into some workout shorts and a T-shirt, then walk back into the kitchen where Lennon is scooping chicken fettuccine Alfredo onto some plates. I grab forks and napkins, and she follows me to the kitchen table. As we eat, I can tell something’s on her mind.
“What is it?” I ask, shooting her a smirk.
She shakes her head and continues to focus on her pasta.
“Come on. I know something’s up. I know you, Lennon. Plus, I haven’t seen the apartment this clean in years,” I tell her and watch her face soften.
“Fine,” she huffs. “I’ve been thinking about the Jenna situation all day. Let me first say that I trust you. I do. I trust you as much as I trust my sisters, so it’s not that. I just have this guilt about you helping me with the baby when Jenna is all alone, doing it on her own, and the father of her baby is alive and well. As much as I really don’t like her, it’s not right.” Her eyes don’t meet mine. She goes back to her pasta, studying it like it’s a Picasso painting.
“I get it. I hear you. But it’s one hundred percent not mine,” I say, recalling the conversation I had earlier with Jenna.
“How do you know? I have to know how you know.” Lennon finally looks at me, and all I want to do is swim in the depths of her baby blues.
I suck in a deep breath and release it. Regardless of how hard it is to admit, I know I have to tell her. The silence draws on, but she gives me the time I need to find my words.
“Okay.” I nod. This is embarrassing as hell, which is why I didn’t tell Jenna. She’s the last person who needs to know my personal business. “When I was in college, I was short on money and decided to donate my...sperm. After some initial testing, they noticed my counts were low,” I explain, watching her.
“You’re sterile?” she asks, searching my face.
“No, but my sperm count is abnormal. Hold on,” I say, getting up and leaving her shocked at the table. I walk to my bedroom and search through the top drawer of my desk and find the envelope. After I find a pinch of courage, I go back and hand it over, but I don’t sit down as I watch her take it with a shaky hand. She pulls the papers out and reads them.
“I got a second opinion shortly after and got the same results. It’s been my reality ever since I found out,” I tell her, resting both hands on my hips. “Not exactly a conversation starter, though.”
The sadness on her face cuts straight to the bone.
“I’m sorry. I’m—” She chokes up.
“It’s okay.” I see a few tears escape, and it practically destroys me that she’s crying for me.
“You may never have a family,” she says, covering her mouth.
I suck in a deep breath. “I have you, Lennon. You’re all I need.” My stance softens as I watch her emotions bleed for me.
She folds the documentation and places it back in the envelope, then pushes it away like it’s poison. “Wait. Is this why you’ve been so willing to be here for me and the baby? I’ve been asking myself why after all this time you’d do this and...” Lennon trails off.
I know she doesn’t mean it the way it came out or maybe she does. I tense up, not sure how to respond, but I’m offended. Her words make it seem as if I’m using her or something to have a baby, which is so fucking far from the truth. I already feel like less of a man because I can’t give anyone a family, but for her to think I’ve only been nice to her to have one is absurd.
“Are you serious? How could you think that?” My questions come out harsher than I intend, but my emotions and adrenaline are high.
Lennon pulls her bottom lip into her mouth. “Hunter, no. I don’t think that.” She pulls her chair back, then stands in front of me. “I’ve just been trying to figure out why you’d do all this for me, considering our past and how much you hated me. I know we’ve grown close, and we’re friends now, but why come up with the fake marriage, say you’re the father, and all of it? Why would you pretend for me unless you had an ulterior motive?”
I didn’t expect to have this conversation today, but fuck it. I’m tired of holding it all in. She doesn’t realize the avalanche she started.
“Pretend?” I ask, my tone harsh and growing louder. “The time we spent in Utah was more real to me than anything, Lennon. If you haven’t figured it out by now, the way I feel about you, the way I’ve always felt about you has been real since the moment I met you. Sorry to disappoint you, but I wasn’t faking shit.”
“Wait, what?” She steps back as if I’d just slapped her. She’s confused as hell, but after all this time, how can she not see it? “What do you mean?”
My heart is pounding, and I’m no longer calm. Waving my hand in frustration, I continue, “Why do you think everyone made so many comments about how in love we looked? About how they could see the love between us? It’s because I don’t have to act when I’m with you. It was all real for me. Maybe you were going along with the script, but I wasn’t pretending, Lennon.” I need to settle my nerves and slow my breaths, but now that I’ve opened my emotional baggage, there’s no stopping. “And I know it’s fucked up. I know it is. But I’m selfish, especially when it comes to you.”
“You weren’t pretending...?” She says the words slowly as if she’s repeating them for herself. “What do you mean since the moment you met me?” She blinks, then looks up at me, her expression hardening. “What the hell does that even mean?” Lennon’s voice raises until she’s nearly yelling.
I don’t think, I just speak, waving my hand in the air as I make my points. “You didn’t notice I took every opportunity to kiss you, be near you, hold you? Even when no one was around, I couldn’t help it. I told myself we were pretending for your family, but that wasn’t the truth. I couldn’t stop kissing you even though I knew better. I fucking knew I was crossing a line, but you were too. You kissed me like you’d been waiting for it, like you couldn’t hold back either. You can lie to yourself all you want, Lennon, but I know you reacted to every single touch. It wasn’t just me.”
She opens her mouth to say something but then clamps it shut. She looks like she wants to slap the truths right off my face. Whether or not she wants to admit I’m right, I know I am. She could’ve pushed me away or told me to stop anytime we were alone. If she was uncomfortable with the situation, she never made it known. She moaned against me, arched her body, and even held on tighter each time we were close. I know it’s not one-sided, but until she admits it, I’m not going to keep acting like it was no big deal. It was a big fucking deal to me.
This is not how I expected her to react or how I wanted shit to go down, but I deserve it because of how wrong this situation is. She directs her attention to the table, nostrils flaring, and grabs her half-eaten plate of pasta and takes it to the kitchen, setting it in the sink.
“You need to eat, Lennon,” I say, following her and not allowing her to escape this discussion.
She turns and looks at me, then within a few steps, she points her finger into my chest. “You need to stop telling me what to do.” Her breasts rise and fall as I look into her eyes. “And I’m still waiting for a goddamn explanation as to why you treated me like shit for two years.”
I gently grab her wrist and move her finger to place her palm against my racing heart. “You feel that?” I softly ask.
Lennon sucks in a deep breath, looking back and forth between our hands and my eyes. Swallowing, she nods.
“The moment I met you, I knew you were so damn special. In here.” I tap my finger against my chest. “I knew.” I shrug, keeping her close. “I wanted you that night and missed my chance to ask you out. But—” Just as I’m about to say that Brandon was the better guy for her, knowing he could give her everything she wanted, she pulls her hand back and walks around me, seething.
“You were awful to me!” she shouts, and I turn around to follow her. “You treated me like an inconvenience and purposely got under my skin every chance possible. You were the worst, Hunter, the biggest dickhead I’d ever met in my life, and I hated you for it!” She’s pissed, but I don’t blame her. I know I was all those things.
“Lennon, I know. I regret all of it, trust me. I’ve lived with the guilt of how I treated you for months,” I tell her, stepping closer, but she maintains her distance.
She snorts, exaggerating her disbelief. “And now you expect me to believe you always had a thing for me? After you brought home random chicks and the way you acted toward me? What do you want me to say? Yeah, we kissed. We had to share a bed. We were close and had to pretend to be married. It was all an act, and that’s all it ever can be.”
Her words are a slap in the face, considering there was no acting on my part, and I know she’s only lying to herself and me if she claims she was only acting too.
“I can’t help the way my body reacts to you when we kiss, Hunter. My body may say yes, but my head says no.”
Another slap.
“And what about your heart? What does your heart say, Lennon?” I challenge.
She looks at me, her bottom lip quivering. Maybe I’ve actually pushed her too far, but she’s not going down without a fight.
Lennon opens her mouth and closes it once again, then refuses to look at me. “All of this is so fucking wrong, I can’t even see straight. The bottom line is, telling me that you always had feelings for me is too much. I can barely understand it because you made me so damn miserable!” She’s screaming, her eyes wide with anger. I can only focus on the fact she’s avoiding what her heart is saying because she feels guilty about it. Her actions always speak louder than words.
I know this is confusing to hear because of the way I treated her in the past, how I wanted to rescue her after Brandon passed away, and especially now that I’m telling her how I truly feel.
I put my hands up, hoping she calms down so I can get out what I need to say. “Lennon, I know!” I’m just as heated as she is. “But can you think about my situation for two fucking seconds? For all these years, all I ever wanted was to forget about you. I didn’t want to have feelings for you once I knew you were with Brandon. I wanted you out of my goddamn head because it was poison to feel that way about my best friend’s girlfriend. But nothing I did helped. Not fucking random women. Not treating you like trash. Nothing. Me being an asshole, me pushing you away? That was me pretending, Lennon. I constantly lied to myself, hoping I’d get over whatever it was I felt, but nothing fucking worked,” I shout. “But these past few days with you”—I wave a finger back and forth between us—“was one hundred percent real for me. I know it’s fucked up, trust me, and I hate that I could never get over you. But think about this for a moment. Brandon was my best friend, and I loved him like a brother. No matter how I felt, I never wanted to do or say anything to jeopardize what you two had because I knew it was special. I could see how much you meant to him, so I sat on the sidelines, but it didn’t mean my feelings weren’t there. It just meant I had to choke on them every time I saw you with him.”
I expose my soul to her, letting the past two years of pent-up emotions release without thinking about the consequences. But that’s what happens when feelings are covered—they boil over, and someone gets burned.
Lennon paces in front of me, looking at the floor, and she’s sealed up so tight, it’s almost scary.
The tension and quietness scream at me. “Lennon. Can you say something? Please?” I plead. I know I just dropped a huge confession bomb on her, but I’m desperate for a response. Time slows down, and the silence kills me, but I’m not walking away from this or her. I’ll wait.
She finally looks at me with tears in her eyes, then shrugs. “What do you want me to say right now? I-I don’t know how to process this, Hunter. I’ve got a lot of things to work out in my head. I don’t have any words. Congratulations, you’ve left me speechless.” She waves her arms up in the air before slapping them down to her sides.
I can tell she’s upset with me, but this isn’t over yet. I’ve opened the door to this conversation, and now I’m walking through. There’s no turning back now that it’s all out there.
“I don’t know...anything! Admit that I’m not alone in feeling this way, tell me to fuck off, tell me it’s all one-sided. Just say something!” I’m no longer being rational, my feelings completely on the line as I beg for her to admit what I know is in her heart.
“I don’t know what to think! You changed overnight the day Brandon died, and now I’m just supposed to believe you had feelings for me all along? That our fake relationship was real to you? What am I supposed to say? That maybe I did feel something too, but—” Lennon stops herself as tears surface in her eyes.
“You don’t have to say it, Lennon,” I tell her when I see how hard she’s struggling with this realization. I know the guilt she feels because of Brandon. I feel it too. “But can you answer one question for me at least?” I ask, then continue when she looks up at me. “That night we met at the bar, I asked you to come back. Why didn’t you? I had planned to ask for your number and always wondered what scared you off. I could never figure out why you didn’t choose me because I would’ve bet my life that you felt the same chemistry I had. You can’t tell me it was all in my head.” I lay it all out there—my soul, my heart, my feelings. I’ve wondered for two years, and even if I won’t like her answer, at least I’ll know and can put it to rest.
With her head slightly tilted, her eyes finally meet mine. She looks confused as hell as if she’s staring at a stranger, but I see a flicker of something behind her eyes. Want? Need? Maybe I’m imagining it, but maybe I’m not.
“Hunter…” she says softly, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
“I wanna know, Lennon,” I tell her, holding my stance. I’m too far in to back out now.
“Okay, fine,” she responds, then swallows hard. “I watched you that night and contemplated going back to talk to you, but you were surrounded by beautiful women all fighting for your attention. I overheard one talking about how she had slept with you the weekend before. It was clear to me that you were a player, and I wasn’t looking for that. I figured I’d never see you again. I—”
“Lennon,” I cut her off, her words a dagger to my pounding heart. I’m a fucking idiot. “That was my lifestyle back then, there’s no denying that, but you were the only woman I saw that night,” I admit, my throat threatening to close up. “I felt it from the moment I met you.”
She sucks in a breath, and her shoulders rise and fall. “I wanted more than a weekend fling, and I knew you’d be a heartbreaker. You know my past, Hunter. You know how my ex hurt me. I felt like I could never satisfy someone like you, that I would never be enough. I didn’t want to compete for your attention. After listening to those women talk, I realized you were nothing more than a fuckboy with good looks to back it up. I couldn’t risk getting hurt again.”
Frowning, I step toward her, needing to close the gap between us. I brush my thumb over her cheek, feeling the softness against my skin and craving more. “I was, but trust me when I say things would’ve been different with you. I would’ve done anything to make you happy and treated you right. Since that night, you’ve been the only woman I’ve ever truly wanted even when it was wrong.”
My words linger in the air as she looks up at me, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. She has no reason to believe me after what I put her through, but everything I’ve said is one hundred percent honest and genuine. Whether or not she’ll believe me after everything we’ve been through is what has me holding my breath, anxiously waiting.
Lennon squeezes her eyes shut and barely shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Hunter.”