Hunter

Today is the day. I’m going to tell her the truth and pray she doesn’t attempt to kill me. It’s now or never. We can’t move forward until we work past this. That may take a while, she may tell me to stay home this weekend, but we can make it work. She’s worth the fight.

My plan is simple. I’m picking her up so she can’t escape. That sounds bad. I’m not going to hold her against her will–she’s not my hostage–but I need her to listen to me. If she has a way to leave before I’m done telling her everything, she’ll only get half the story.

Shaking my head, I clear the doubt that’s starting to creep in. This is the best plan. Stick to it. Keep it simple.

Pick her up.

Bring her back here.

Feed her lunch.

Talk. Tell her the truth.

After I’m done, it’s my turn to listen to her. She might yell, spew hatred at me. On the other hand, she may say nothing. I’m not sure how she’s going to react.

Looking up at the clock, I’m about to find out.

After I slip the casserole in the oven, I grab my keys and glance around the room one more time. It’s as clean as it’s ever been. I’m not a messy person, but I spent extra time last night tidying up. There was a stack of movies on the coffee table that needed to find their home. A few magazines scattered around that I threw away. Somehow, a dish towel was hiding under a throw pillow, and judging by how awful it smelled, it had been there awhile.

My hands grip the steering wheel tight, the sweat from my palms causing them to slip. Sitting at the light, I can see Kennedy Real Estate just up the block. I wipe my palms on my jeans, take a deep breath and blow it out quickly.

Pulling into the parking lot, I look around for Reese’s car to make sure she didn’t ditch me. There it is. Right next to it stands Reese. Waving at me. This must be her way of keeping me out of the building. I knew she didn’t want me to come back here, ever, or pick her up today, but I didn’t give her an option. Parking next to where she stands, I unlock the door for her, and she crawls in.

“We need to make this quick,” she starts, buckling her seat belt. “I have a meeting in an hour that I can’t miss.”

Doing the math in my head, it’s going to take us thirty-five minutes to get to my apartment and back. That’s not going to work. Plus, the casserole won’t be done for another ten after we get there. Shit!

My plan is shot to hell.

I’m going to have to improvise.

“There’s a bar around the corner. The food’s pretty good and there’s not much of a crowd this time of day,” Reese suggests.

A bar? I’m supposed to tell her in a bar? That’s not going to happen. This is going to end up being a business lunch. There’s nothing I can do to change that. If I’m going to tell her, it’s going to be at the right time, in an appropriate place, in the right way. I owe her that at the very least.

Punctual should be her middle name. Reese has me dropping her off forty-seven minutes after I picked her up. She waves over her shoulder as she disappears through the front doors.

We went through more information over lunch than we have in our previous two and a half (if you count my intrusion yesterday) meetings. She did most of the talking while I scribbled notes on a napkin. Had I known in advance, I would have come prepared.

As soon as I walk through the door, I pull the casserole from the oven and turn off the timer. Looking at the clock on the stove, it’s been going off for twenty minutes or so. I’ll reheat it for dinner tonight. Reaching into my pocket, I pull my napkin covered in notes out. Reading over them, I realize there’s not going to be an opportunity for me to tell her before we leave.

It’s off the table completely.

I’m going to have to play along for now.

When we return, I’ll tell her the truth.

If she forgives me… well, I’ll cross that bridge when we get there. I have a strange feeling that she’s not going to forgive me easily. I’ve been lying to her, repeatedly. I still am. Every time I talk to her, I lie. With every passing moment that I don’t stop everything and tell her the truth, I lie to her.

Our entire relationship is a lie.

What we’re doing this weekend… a lie.

So many lies–it’s hard to determine where the lies stop and reality begins. I’m sure that line will become incredibly clear the moment I tell her the truth. I can see it now. Her mouth will drop open in shock for a second before she realizes what I’m saying. Then she’ll smack me across the face. Or she’ll play it cool, say something that will strike deep, hurting me, and walk away. That sounds more like her. She’s classy like that.

No matter which way things turn out, I don’t see her forgiving me. I wish there was a way I could make her see why I’m doing this. Maybe then, she’d at least try to forgive me.

What if I don’t tell her? Is that even an option?

Not if I want to have a real relationship with her. My past will come out eventually. The fact that we went to the same high school will reveal itself in time. I can’t hide who I really am forever. It’s impossible.

Looking over my napkin one last time, I push it across the counter in frustration. I need to pack, pick up my tux, and mentally prepare for this weekend. As hard as this is going to be for Reese, it’s going to be equally as hard on me.

She gets to show everyone who she really is… I have to pretend to be someone I’m not.