“See!” She lays down her phone, side by side with TJ’s. “That’s Jenny.”

I compare the pictures. It’s the same girl.

“And she’s not visiting,” Pippa adds. “According to her Insta, she’s been in Hawaii with her family for the past few weeks.”

Relief courses through me, so overpowering that I feel faint. And sick. And afraid.

Not defining a relationship is a terrible place to be in. But what’s even more terrible is the current state of my mind and heart. I went from zero to infidelity in a nanosecond. Instantly succumbed to suspicion and assumed Hunter had made out with someone else at a party.

I force myself to drink my entire daiquiri. To listen to Pippa and Corinne, to express interest when TJ talks about how he’s visiting his brother in England this summer. But I can’t concentrate. I’m too riled up from that false alarm. I feel stupid and uncertain.

I need to talk to Hunter.

“Hey, I’m going to take off,” I say when Pippa suggests ordering another round. “My head’s not in this.”

TJ looks disappointed. “It’s only nine-thirty.”

“I know. I’m sorry. But I’m emotionally exhausted.”

“It’s cool,” Pippa says, waving a hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow anyway. Dinner with Darius, remember?”

“Right.” I say my goodbyes, then zip up my parka and exit the bar.

Greek Row is a three-minute walk from here, but I’m not headed home. I order an Uber, and fifteen minutes later I’m in Hastings, ringing Hunter’s doorbell.

Summer lets me in. “Hey. I didn’t know you were coming over.” She greets me with a dazzling smile, because that’s the default mode for her face. Dazzling.

“Last-minute thing,” I answer vaguely.

Beyond her shoulder, I spot her boyfriend Fitz walking past the kitchen doorway in gray sweatpants and no shirt. He backs up when he catches sight of me, and lifts one tattooed arm in a quick wave. “Hey Demi. There’s leftover pizza if you want.”

“No thanks. I’m good. I’m just going to go up and see Hunter.” My heart beats faster as I climb the stairs and approach his bedroom door.

When I knock, he responds with a loud growl. “Go away, Rupi. I don’t want to watch Riverdale. It’s fucking stupid.”

“It’s me,” I answer with a laugh.

“Semi? Why did you even knock? Get your cute butt in here.”

I enter the room to find him sprawled on his bed. A hockey game flashes on the TV, but I can’t tell who’s playing. Hunter’s head is propped up on a pillow, his dark hair rumpled, and stubble shadowing his jaw.

Those dimples appear as he smiles at me. “I thought you didn’t want to come over.”

“I wasn’t going to, but then—”

“—but then you realized you wanted to get all up in my dick biz. Wise decision.”

I crack a smile. “No. I just…” I trail off.

I suddenly feel ridiculous for showing up like this. What am I supposed to say? I was out with friends and saw a picture of you kissing some girl and I thought it was recent and then I felt sick but it turned out to be old and yet I couldn’t stop freaking out so I raced over here for no good reason.

“What’s going on?” he asks, his forehead creasing. “What’s wrong?”

To my utter horror, hot tears fill my eyes.

“Demi.” He sits up. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Just…ah, I’m an idiot.”

“No you’re not. But I’ll bite—why do you think you’re an idiot?”

I exhale in a rush, and then the entire story spills out. Hunter listens without a single interjection, visibly bewildered.

“I’m sorry,” I blabber on. “I’m not saying you did anything wrong, because you didn’t—it was an old picture. But when I thought it wasn’t old, my brain immediately jumped to you cheating on me. That’s where my idiocy comes in, because how could you cheat on me if we’re not even officially together?”

“Sure we are.”

I falter. “We are?”

“Of course. Just because we haven’t labeled this doesn’t mean we’re not together. When anyone asks, I refer to you as my girlfriend.”

“You do?” I angrily swipe at my wet eyes. “Why the fuck don’t you refer to me as your girlfriend when I’m there?”

He snorts with laughter. “I don’t know, why don’t you ever call me your man?”

“Because I didn’t want to rush into things.” I release a heavy sigh, trying to articulate the emotions swirling inside me. “I’m so embarrassed,” I finally admit. “I like to think of myself as level-headed and mature, and yet I immediately jumped to conclusions and assumed you were sleeping around. And it made me realize that Nico really messed with my head. I thought I was over it, but apparently I’m not. Apparently now any time anything even the slightest bit sketchy happens, I’m going to assume the person I’m with is sleeping with someone else.”

I finish with an anguished groan.

“C’mere,” he says gruffly. He moves toward the foot of the bed where I’m lurking and pulls me into his lap.

I rest my chin on his shoulder, inhaling a weak breath.

“You didn’t jump to conclusions, Demi. You saw a picture of me kissing another woman. Yes, it was taken last year, but you didn’t know that at first. Believe me, if I saw a picture of you kissing another man, I’d lose my shit.”

“You would?”

“Yes. Look, I know we kind of did this backwards. We didn’t have any of those big relationship talks, or set any ground rules, but…” Hunter captures my chin with his hands and lifts my head so we’re eye to eye. “I promise you, I’m not seeing anybody else. I’m not sleeping with anybody else. I’m with you, and I’m all in.” His voice cracks. “I love you.”

36

Hunter

No one has a harder job than the man who comes after the cheater.

To be honest, I’m surprised Demi didn’t experience a breakdown like this sooner. Yes, she had her violent breakdown, her fit of rage when she hurled Nico’s stuff out the window and clocked him in the face. But I don’t think she ever fully dealt with the emotional implications of what Nico did.

I know all about the aftermath of infidelity. I remember how my mom acted following the revelation of another one of Dad’s affairs. She’d be jittery and suspicious for weeks and months afterward. Whenever he bent over his phone, her shoulders would stiffen. Who is he texting? she’d wonder. Whenever he had to go to the office, anxiety would flood her eyes. Who is he going to fuck on his desk today?

I used to have a lot of sympathy for her, but over the years it faded away. People are in control of their own lives and their own decisions. They’re not powerless victims to some cruel overlord who keeps them trapped in a misery loop. Mom made the decision to stay with him. I can’t sympathize anymore, not when there are so many other solutions available to her. She doesn’t have to be miserable, afraid, distrustful. She doesn’t have to be a pushover. She chooses to be.