My Favorite Mistake (17 page)

Hunter shook his head. 

“It’s fine. I’ll get it fixed,” Hunter said. 

“Daddy, Daddy! Taylor said she would sing with me,” Harper said, using the joystick on her wheelchair to come closer to me.

“Yes, Angel. You should say excuse me when other people are having a conversation if you want to say something.” She thought about that for a second.

“Okay. Excuse me, Daddy. Taylor said she would sing with me.”

 I caught Darah’s eye, and we had to press our lips together so we wouldn’t laugh.

“That’s great. Did you ask her nicely?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

“Give me some skin, Harp,” Mase said, holding up his hand for a high five. She reeled back and smacked as hard as she could, and he pretended to recoil in agony, rolling over on the couch. Her laughter filled the room like bubbles, and we all joined in. Thank God for Harper, because otherwise, this might have been a very uncomfortable situation.

“Hunter, why don’t you give Taylor a tour of the house?” John said. It would probably take a few years, at least.

“Sure,” Hunter said.

“Want to come, Seven?”

“May I?” Harper looked at her father with big pleading eyes.

“Why don’t we let Taylor and Hunter do the tour and then you can show her your room.”

“Okay,” Harper said, clearly bummed.

“We’ll be back soon,” I said.

“Promise?”

“Pinky swear,” I said, holding mine out. We linked, and she smiled again.

“Hunter,” John said. Hunter nodded in understanding. Wait, what?

“Shall we?” Hunter said, holding his arm out for me to go first, bowing slightly.

I gave Harper a little wave before we rounded the corner and stood in a long hallway with a set of glorious stairs. I stared at the study door, hoping Joe would come out, but nothing happened.

“I am going to rip your arms off and then strangle you with them,” I hissed at Hunter when I was sure we were out of hearing range.

“So this is the hallway,” Hunter said, ignoring me. “Elevator, if you ever need it.”

“You’re not even listening to me. How could you not tell me?” He started walking down the hallway. 

“There’s a music room back here –“

I yanked on his arm to make him stop. 

“How could you not tell me?”

He still wouldn’t look at me. I reached up and grabbed his chin, turning his stubborn face so I could meet his eyes.

“Come on,” he said.

“No, I want to talk about this.”

“We will, just not here.”

He took my hand and pulled me behind him up the stairs. I caught lots of fancy paintings and furniture that didn’t come from Ikea. Down another hall we went, and he pulled me into a room, shutting the door quickly.

“This is my room,” he said.

I was momentarily distracted from screaming at him. It looked very much like our room at school, only twelve times the size. Clean and neat and with dark colors. Slate, black, blue. There were a few band posters, including The Goo Goo Dolls and Matchbox 20. 

“I didn’t tell you because I know you and I knew you’d freak.”

“So springing it on me was a better idea?” I hoped I wouldn’t get so mad that I would spill that I’d spied on him. 

“It seemed so at the time,” he said, pulling a chair out from behind a huge desk. It looked like something an old crusty writer would use to compose masterpieces on his typewriter. “Now I’m not so sure. You’re freaking anyway.”

I threw up my hands in frustration. 

“How else was I supposed to react? It’s not just that you sprung this,” I said, gesturing to the general situation of the house being effing enormous, “it’s that I feel like I don’t know you. There’s this whole huge part of your life and I had no idea. And you’re meeting with some guy named Joe about some mysterious thing, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were involved with the mob.”

“Why do you care?” That was the million-dollar question. Why did it bother me so much?

“Because you’re my roommate,” I said, floundering.

“That’s not enough of a reason. You wouldn’t throw a hissy fit if you found out Darah or Renee lived here or had secret meetings with a guy named Joe. So why me?”

“Because.”

“That’s not a reason.” He got up from his chair and stood right in front of me, our chests only inches apart. He tipped his head down to look in my eyes. 

“I think it’s because you like me. As much as you would rather choke to death than admit it. And you want to know things about the people you like. You want to know what they do when no one is watching, what movie makes them feel better when they’re sick, what they really want to be when they grow up. Am I right?”

He was so close, every time I breathed, I could smell him. You’d think after sharing a room with him for several weeks, I’d be used to his smell, but it seemed it had gotten even more potent. I had to close my eyes for a moment to gain some composure.

“No, Hunter. I don’t like you.”

“Good. I don’t like you either.”

We breathed in unison for a moment, and for that moment, the world stood still and we were the only two people in it. I opened my eyes and let myself get lost in his blue ones. Most of the time I avoided them. They were hypnotic, and I didn’t like being caught staring.

“I. Don’t. Like. You,” he said, bring his face a fraction closer with each word. I couldn’t speak, or breathe, or think.

Our lips were so close that I could feel how warm they were. He exhaled once and pulled away. It was like someone had snapped a rubber band in my brain. He stepped back from me.

“I don’t like you,” he said again. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince me or himself.

“You said that,” I was finally able to say.

“Well, it’s true.”

“I know.”

“So, let’s go see the rest of the house.”

“Okay.” I robotically followed him out of his bedroom.

I don’t like you.

I don’t like you.

I don’t like you.

Well, I didn’t like him either. There wasn’t a word for what I felt about Hunter.

I had one thing to say for Hope Mason. She had damn good decorating sense. The house was absolutely gorgeous and everything seemed to fit together, even if it didn’t look like it went together. There were subtle touches that I noticed. Things that looked like they might have come from yard sales, like a wooden rocking horse and old silver tins and glass perfume bottles. 

There were also accommodations for Harper everywhere, from ramps, to the elevator, or a special sink in her bathroom. There were also strange things hanging from the ceiling in her bedroom.

“So she can get herself in and out of her chair without help,” Hunter had said. “When she gets older, they’ll get more stuff so she can do a lot more, but since she’s still so little, it’s easier to carry her.”

I couldn’t imagine. Harper didn’t seem bothered by it at all. She maneuvered her chair like she was born with a joystick in her hand. 

When we’d gotten back from the massive tour, Joe was apparently gone, seeing as there was one less car in the driveway when I caught a glimpse out of a huge picture window in the den. I was no closer to solving the Joe mystery.

Harper insisted on sitting next to me at lunch, and I had Hunter on my other side.

Everyone dug into the chicken, while I devoured an avocado, mozzarella, spinach, and tomato salad.

“This is amazing, thank you so much,” I said, taking another forkful. I’d had one panicked moment when she’d called us for lunch, envisioning multiple forks, and picking the wrong one. 

Thankfully, it was a nice day so we ate out on the back porch, which was much more like a terrace that looked out on the apple trees. The smell of the sweet leaves washed over me and made me think of fall and pies and hayrides and pumpkin carving. I loved fall.

“Remind me to give you the recipe for that dressing,” Hope said, returning my attention to the present moment.

“I will.”

“Momma, can I have some more watermelon, please?” Harper asked.

“Yes, Harper, you may. Thank you for asking so nicely.”

“You want some, Dare?” Mase said.

“Sure, thanks.” Darah seemed to be as nervous as I was. She’d already dropped her fork twice and had knocked over her water glass.

“So, Taylor, Hunter told us you’re a women’s studies major. That must be interesting,” she said, dishing some watermelon cubes onto Harper’s plate.

“I want to work at a crisis center or somewhere that helps women recover from trauma,” I said, wondering if that was TMI. I didn’t want to seem like the damaged girl, but it was hard not to.

“That’s very admirable. What made you choose that as a career path?” I’d been asked that a million times, so I had an answer.

“I want to help people, and that seemed like a good way to do it.”

“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest? I’m glad you brought her, Hunter. She’s much better than that other one. What was her name?”

“Chastity,” he said, not looking at me. I remembered seeing her name in his phone.

“What an awful name. It’s been my experience that when you name a girl like that, she’s more likely to embrace the opposing virtue,” Hope said, giving me a knowing look. I’d also had that experience with a girl named Charity, who had been anything but charitable.

I was in the perfect position to kick Hunter under the table, so I did. Who the hell was Chastity? I knew next to nothing about his dating history, except that it was long and there were a lot of names in that little black book. To be totally honest, I didn’t really want to know much. Ignorance was bliss in this situation.

Hope brought out strawberry shortcake, and we all stuffed our faces. The conversation lulled as we chewed. The sun was high in the sky, and it was turning out to be a warm, lazy Saturday.

“So, JJ, I was thinking you and Hunter could give me a hand with that tractor after we’re done here.” I assumed JJ stood for John Jr.

“Excuse me, Daddy, but we’re going to sing,” Harper said while Hope wiped whipped cream from her face.

“Yes, Angel, we’ll do that first.”

“Okay,” Harper said, nodding her head.

We finished lunch, and Hunter grabbed his guitar. Darah and Mase went to help Hope with the dishes, and I offered, but Hope refused, so John, Hunter and I sat with Harper.

“
Our Song
!” Harper chanted.

Oh there was no way that Hunter knew that. He seemed to read my mind as he gave me a wink and started the song without further ado. It was clear within three seconds that he had played this song more than a few times. 

His normally rough voice blended with Harper’s in the most adorable way. He knew all the words. I hummed along, tapping my foot.

He finished the song and Harper clapped.

“Can we do
Love Story
?”

“Sure, Seven. Why don’t you ask Taylor to sing with us?”

“Will you sing, please?” Her little voice, combined with her clasped hands was irresistible. This child was the key to world peace. All she’d have to do was bat those eyelashes and smile that dimpled smile and world leaders would be falling over themselves to sign a peace treaty.

“Sure.” Hunter started the song, and I was a little nervous about singing in public, but this wasn’t really public.

I joined in, my voice blending with the other two. My voice was a little too deep to be like Taylor Swift’s, but I did love singing her songs. I hated the fact that Hunter knew I sang in the shower. I should probably put a lid on that.

John got a call on his cell phone midway through the song, and excused himself.

Hunter ended the song, and our voices faded out.

“You have a pretty voice,” Harper said.

“Thank you, Harper.” She was just the sweetest.

“Do you wanna see the apple trees?”

“Lead the way,” I said, getting to my feet. Ugh, I‘d eaten too much.

 She zoomed down the little ramp that was attached to the porch as Hunter and I followed.

“Joe didn’t want to join us?”

“He had other things to attend to.”

“He’s not a hit man, is he?”

 Hunter laughed. 

“No.”

“Then why all the secrecy? Unless you’re doing something illegal?”

Harper was singing as she tooled along ahead of us.

“It’s just personal business. Once again, I ask you: Why do you care?”

I pressed my lips together and walked ahead of him, threading my way through the fragrant trees. 

Hunter was watching me. I always knew when he was watching me. As if he was calling my name inside my head.

“This is my favorite,” Harper called from two rows over. The trees all had little green pre-apples on them. “I call him Monty.”

“Harper names all the trees,” Hunter said with a straight face. “That’s Walter, and that’s Shirley and that’s Cinderella…” He kept going, naming at least ten more trees. 

“Do you have their names in your phone?” I said without thinking.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He shook his head and turned me around so we weren’t facing Harper, who was talking to Monty the tree.

“The only way you would know what numbers I have in my phone would be if you looked in my phone, which would be an invasion of my privacy.” 

“Oh, like going in my purse and finding my keys isn’t? Like taking my e-reader isn’t? Like trying to catch me naked isn’t? You filthy hypocrite,” I hissed at him, glancing to make sure that Harper was still chatting with the tree.

“Don’t touch my phone,” he said, stepping close to me.

“Don’t touch my ass then.”

“The problem with that, Missy, is that you want me to touch your ass. If Harper wasn’t here right now, you’d want to be pushed up against one of those trees with the leaves in your hair and my hands all over you. I do not want you to touch my phone.”

“You are such an asshole.”

“Watch your language in front of Harper. She’s very impressionable.” He stepped away and crouched next to Harper’s chair.

Normally, Hunter was a douche, but a nice one — if there was such a thing. But it seemed like something had flipped a switch. Hunter had never been mean to me before. Not like that. I had the distinct feeling that it had something to do with Joe and the mysterious meeting.