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“I’m lucky, ” he said as he opened the door for me.

The restaurant was in a strip of brick buildings that went all the way down the main street, with an old brick mill on the end.

It was all white linen and candlelight and French things on the menu. Thank goodness I knew enough of that to know what was what.

The waiter had an accent, which probably meant his family was French Canadian, and had just come over the border. We ordered hors d’oeuvres of French bread and a goat cheese dip and mozzarella, basil and tomato skewers in a balsamic sauce.

We didn’t want to risk the fake ID’s so we both got sparkling water.

When it came time to order, I went with the pesto fettuccini with garlic bread, and then it was Hunter’s turn.

“Peanut butter and Jelly with a side of the asparagus.” The waiter gaped at him for a second, but wrote it down.

“What type of jelly would you like? ”

“Strawberry.” The waiter wrote it down and left, shaking his head a little.

“We come to this fancy restaurant and you order PB and J? ”

He shrugged, unfazed that the waiter was probably telling the entire kitchen about the crazy guy who had ordered peanut butter and jelly.

“I’ve never eaten here, so I don’t know what’s good. Peanut butter and jelly is always good. You can’t screw that up. Peanut butter and jelly has always been there for me and is one of the constants in my life. Peanut butter and jelly has never done me wrong. It’s my favorite.” His eyes bored into me as he said it, and I had the feeling we weren’t talking about a sandwich.

“Should I leave you two alone when it gets here? Sounds like you don’t need me.”

“I might be projecting my views of someone else onto the sandwich.”

“Just a little.”

The waiter had composed himself by the time he brought our dinner out. They’d done what they could in the kitchen to make the sandwich look fancy, but really, it was still a PB and J. It looked silly sitting on the plate with parsley on the side and some sort of drizzle around the edge of the plate.

“I propose a toast, ” Hunter said, raising his glass. I raised mine as well. “To peanut butter and jelly. My favorite sandwich.”

“PB and J, ” I said, and we clinked our glasses. Some of the other diners gave us weird looks, but I ignored them. They just didn’t understand the awesomeness of PB and J.

“You want a bite? ” Hunter said, holding up his sandwich. One woman looked absolutely horrified that he’d just held up his sandwich for me to take a bite.

I leaned over and took a bite. Damn. That was good. The peanut butter had to be organic, and it had just the right amount of crunch. The jelly was also clearly homemade. Yum.

“You want a bite of mine? ” I fed him a bite of my amazing pasta.

“Not as good as mine.”

“Whatever. Eat your sandwich, Mr. Zaccadelli.”

“Yes, Miss Caldwell.”

We chewed some more, and I soaked in the quiet ambience of the restaurant. Soft piano music floated from one corner where a professional played, and the clink of china added to the cozy feel. It was definitely a nice place, and I did feel a little out of place.

“So, you want to play a game? ” he said.

“What kind of game? ” The mind reeled.

“I say something and you say the first thing that comes to your mind. Then you can turn it around on me.”

“Okay.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin and took a sip of water.

“What was the first thing that came to your mind when you saw me? ” he asked.

“Crap.”

“As in, ‘Oh crap, that is one hot guy? ’”

“More like, ‘Oh crap, that is not a girl.’”

“Fair enough. What was the second thing you thought when you saw me? ”

“Trouble.”

He laughed loudly, startling the other diners.

“Is it my turn? ” I said.

“Go ahead, ” he said, leaning back as if to prepare himself.

“First thing you thought when you saw me? ”

“I had three simultaneous thoughts. One —” He held one finger up. “— stunning, two —” Another finger. “— this can’t be real, and three, that I really, really hoped I was going to get to share a room with you so I could stare at you all the time.

“You were only supposed to use one word.”

“Missy, one word can’t describe you.” I’d say the same about him.

“Okay, how about this. What’s the first thing you think when you wake up? ”

“You.”

I rolled my eyes.

“What about you? ” he said.

“First thing I think is, ‘Oh crap, I have to get up.’ The second is, ‘I hope Hunter’s blanket is pulled up.’”

“Liar.”

I blushed. Sometimes it was a lie.

“What did you think when you woke up that morning when we were together? ” he asked.

“Safe, ” I said without thinking.

“Me too. And warm.”

“You do get pretty hot when you sleep. Has anyone ever told you that? ”

“Missy, I’m always hot, ” he said, leaning back farther and smiling.

“Whatever. Okay, how about when I punched you? ”

“First was, ‘Ow, she has quite a right hook, ’ and second was, ‘That’s one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen.’”

“Really? ”

“Missy, nothing is sexier than a woman who can take care of herself. As far as I’m concerned, the 1950s are over. Although, you would look damn cute in a poodle skirt and saddle shoes. But I like you better when you can show your knees and speak without being spoken to. Not that you would have followed those rules anyway.”

“Damn right. I would have been a horrible housewife.”

“Yeah, I can’t see you saying, ‘How was your day, dear? ’ and handing me my pipe and slippers.”

“I’d probably chuck them at you.”

“Probably.”

“And then I’d have to punish you, ” he said with a wicked smile.

“Would you toss me outside on my ass? ” His smile fell.

“I am so sorry about that.” He stared down at his empty plate. I still had some pasta left, but I’d done it on purpose so I could bring some home with me. I never left a restaurant without a doggie bag.

“I know. I just… I’m scared that you’re going to be sweet and nice now and everything will be fine and then I’ll do something and it will happen again. I’ve… I’ve seen how abusive relationships work, and I don’t want that.”

“I would never, ever want you to be afraid of me. Ever.”

“Then make sure it doesn’t happen. Because if it does, I’m gone, and you’ll probably be missing one or more appendages.”

“That’s my girl, ” he said. I put my fork down and the waiter came to ask us if we wanted desert. “Want to share something? ”

“Do you have red velvet cake? ” I said.

“Of course, ” the waiter said, as if this was a ridiculous question. How dare I assume that they didn’t have red velvet cake. The nerve.

“Bring two forks, please, ” Hunter said. The waiter nodded. “You want to keep playing? ”

“Why not? ”

“Okay, how about the first thing you thought when you saw me in human sex? ” A woman who had been eavesdropping from the next table nearly choked on her filet mignon. That was what she got for listening in.

“Honestly? Oh, fuck, ” I whispered the last part so the woman wouldn’t actually choke. I didn’t want to be responsible for that. “You? ”

“Score.”

“Ass.”

The cake came and it was glorious, with tons of cream and chocolate drizzle and it was almost too pretty to eat. Almost.

“Ladies first, ” Hunter said when we each went at it with our forks. Damn right.

I nearly had a cakegasm at the table. My eyes rolled back in my head, and I moaned.

“Sweet Christ.” I opened my eyes to find Hunter watching me with the strangest expression on his face. “What? It’s really good; you should try some, ” I said, pushing the plate at him. It was a testament to how embarrassed I was about the cakegasm that I was even sharing at all.

“I swear, if there weren’t a table between us, I would be kissing you right now. And none too gently.”

I put my fork down and swallowed so I wouldn’t choke.

“You didn’t seem to mind about the recliner, ” I said.

“True. But there wasn’t an audience, and that’s a very ugly recliner. This is a very nice table. Also there is glass and sharp things I wouldn’t want hurting you.”

“Good point. Please, have some.”

“If you’re going to make that noise and that face again, I don’t know if I can let you have any more.”

“I’ll be good. I swear.”

“You’re not good. That’s the problem.”

“You’re right. I’m not, ” I said, giving him my own smirk. “I do try, though.”

“Cruel. That’s the word to describe you right now.”

“Just have some cake.”

He picked up the fork and took a bite.

“Damn. That is good.” He had another bite and then I had to fight him for the rest of it. I was able to refrain from any further public displays of cake affection.

“I told you.”

“That is some mighty fine cake, ” he said with a southern accent. My jaw may have dropped a little. “What? You know I’m half-Texan. I can whip it out every now and then. I tried to get rid of it, but it comes out every now and then, especially when I spend time with my family.”

“Do you have more family in Texas? ”

“My dad’s family relocated there from New York when he was a kid. I don’t see them much.”

The waiter came to take our cake plate, and I sat back in my chair. I was satiated.

“Would you excuse me? ” I raised an eyebrow at his overt politeness. “I’m being a gentleman, don’t ruin it.”

“Yes, you may be excused, Mr. Zaccadelli.”

“Thank you, Miss Caldwell. I will return momentarily.” He got up and left the restaurant. What the what?

“Are you ready for the check? ” The waiter was back.

“Um, sure.” He looked at Hunter’s empty seat with disapproval as if he’d run away and left me.

“He’ll be right back, ” I felt the need to say.

“Of course.” He soooo didn’t believe me.

I spent the next thirty seconds staring at the door, praying that Hunter would walk through it. He finally did, and he had something with him. His guitar.

What the hell was he up to?

He didn’t come back to the table, but went right to the guy who was playing the piano, interrupting him in the middle of a song. Hunter leaned in to speak to piano man, who, to his credit, kept playing. Hunter gestured with his hands like he did when he really wanted to get his point across. Piano man nodded and then Hunter said something that made him smile.

He finished his song with a flourish and got up. The entire restaurant turned toward that spot. Piano man waved at a waiter and quickly explained the situation. Waiter went and got a stool and moved the mic away from the piano. I could see where this was going.

Hunter sat down on the stool and pulled his guitar out, settling it so he could play. Everyone watched in fascination.

“Hello, everyone. I’m sorry to disturb your dinner. I’ll only take a few moments of your time.” He adjusted the strap, and I could tell he was nervous. His knee was going a mile a minute. “I just wanted to play a little song for my girl, Taylor, over there. She agreed to come here with me tonight, even after I wasn’t very nice to her. This is part of my apology. I hope you like it.”

Everyone stared at me, and I felt like I was under a spotlight roughly the luminosity of the sun. I wasn’t a big blusher, but I did right then.

He started the song, and I recognized it immediately as Fix You by Coldplay. It was an older song, but one that I’d always loved. I’d never told him that I did and I wondered if he’d picked it for that, or he’d picked it on his own. It didn’t matter.

His voice wrapped around the song, and I could tell he’d sung it a hundred times. I sat back and watched him. He’d started out looking at the guitar, but soon he looked up to find my eyes. The lyrics were perfect for both of us.

We were both broken, trying to become unbroken. Maybe we just needed a little help. Not to fix each other, but to help us fix ourselves.

The chatter in the restaurant ceased as Hunter sang about lights guiding you home. The woman who had been eavesdropping wiped at her eyes with her napkin.

“ I will try, to fix you. ” He ended the song and the room was silent for half a second. Then there was a smattering of applause that built until Hunter was required to get up and take a bow.

“I’m sorry, Missy. Thank you for listening, ” he said into the mic before coming back to our table. He sat down slowly, as if waiting for me to yell at him.

“Well? ” he said after I didn’t respond.

“I don’t really know what to say.”

“You’ve never been at a loss for words in your life. Let me have it. You hated it.”

“No, I didn’t.”

I could feel everyone else listening to us.

“Oh, honey, forgive him! My husband would never do something that romantic, ” the eavesdropper said. Her husband looked sheepish. I waited for someone else to give their opinion, but no one else came forward.

“I’m not one for public displays, but I think I can make an exception for that. How did you know I loved that song? ” I said.

“I didn’t. Lucky guess.”

“The luckiest.” I got up from my seat and went to his, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you. It was perfect.”

“It wasn’t, but it means the world that you think so. I meant it. I know we’re both screwed up, but even screwed up people should be able to be happy.”

“I think so, too.” I gave him another kiss, lingering for a moment so I could breathe him in. He snaked his arms around my waist, and I put my head on his for a second. There it was, our bubble, sealing around us again.

Eavesdropper sighed happily behind me.

“Shall we go? ” he said, putting his guitar back in the case.

“Sure.” He took out his card and put it in the book. The waiter came to collect it, looking slightly stunned.

“That was awesome. Really, you’re talented. You’re welcome back anytime.” Hunter tried to hand him the book, but the waiter refused. “Your meal has been taken care of. You have a good night.” Hunter tried again, but the waiter stood firm.

“Can I get your name? ” Hunter asked.

“It’s Will.”

“Thank you, Will. You have a good night, ” Hunter said, shaking his hand. “You ready, Miss? ”

I took my doggie bag in one hand, Hunter’s with the other, and he had his guitar case on the outside. Eavesdropper waved to me on our way out.

“You take care of that pretty girl now.”

“I will.”

Twenty-Two

I held Hunter’s hand on the way back home. It felt like the right thing to do. Like we were on a real date, and we could be a real couple. My mind never strayed far from thinking about my secret. About finally telling him and letting things fall where they may. There it was again. That falling word.

“You look amazing.”

“Thank you. You look pretty good.” Understatement.

“Oh this old thing? Shucks, ” he said.

“Dork.”

“Goddess.”

He took my hand and kissed the back of it, taking his eyes off the road for a moment.

“So you’re not still mad at me? I mean, it’s okay if you are.”

“I’m not mad exactly. Well, not anymore. I just… I never thought you had that in you.”

“I did, ” he said. “I’ve… I’ve lost control like that before, but not for a long time. I wanted to go after you, but I was so ashamed of what I’d done. I didn’t want you to feel threatened by me at all.”

“I can take care of myself, Hunter.”

“I know.”

“Let’s just not talk about it anymore. Talking about it isn’t going to change it. It happened and that’s that, ” I said.

“It’s not, but I can agree to a change in topic. What would you like to discuss? ”

“What did you say to the piano player? ”

“I just told him that I’d been a jerk and there was a special lady who needed a very special apology.”

“Let me guess, I’m the special lady.”

He shook his head.

“Nope it was the lady at the next table.”

“The eavesdropper? How dare you.”

“Are you kidding? Nothing turns a man on like giant gold earrings and an animal print top. Rawr.”

I laughed as we pulled into the student lot. This time I waited for Hunter to come open my door.

“So do you have anything further planned for this lovely evening? ” I asked.

“Well, I know how much you like that wedding movie and it always makes you laugh, so I figured we could watch it with some kettle corn. Sound good? ”

“Sounds perfect.” I could see the whole scene in my head. Me and Hunter in our pjs, with me draped across him on the couch, laughing so much our stomachs hurt.

“You don’t have to tell me tonight. One secret is enough for a day, don’t you think? ”

“Yeah.” Part of me wanted to blurt it out, to unburden myself and kill the suspense already. He wanted to know. How could he not? I’d practically pried his secret out of him, like digging a pearl from a clam. But I was glad I knew. I hoped he didn’t regret telling me. I hoped I wouldn’t regret telling him.

There was a note on the front door as we came up the stairs.

You kids have fun. The place is all yours. Please wipe all surfaces you become amorous on with the wipes in the kitchen. Love you, Darah and Renee

“I wonder who wrote that note.”

“Well, I’m guessing Renee wrote it and Darah added the part about the wipes.”

“Sounds about right.” He took the note down and put his key in the lock.

“So, ” he said when he’d opened the door and turned the light on. “I guess it’s just us.”

We’d never been alone together all night before. Daytime was a whole other ball of wax.

Hunter was still holding my hand.

“I’ll, um, let you get changed and I’ll start the popcorn, ” he said, dropping it like a burning coal.

A little voice inside me screamed in frustration, but I turned and went to the bedroom anyway.

I reached around my back to undo the zipper, but it wouldn’t undo. I’d had no problem getting it up, but down was another story. I nearly wrenched my arms out of my sockets trying to get the damn thing to cooperate with me.

“Son of a bitch! ”

There was a knock at the door.

“You okay in there? ”

“Yes, fine.” I tried pulling the hem of the dress up and over my head that way, but it was too formfitting. Well, shit.

I tried one last time before I gave up.

“Okay, so can you give me a hand? The stupid zipper is stuck.”

“Oh, really? ”

“Shut up and just help me, please? ” I opened the door and turned my back to him. “Just get it started —”

I stopped talking when I felt his warm hands on my back. Breathing suddenly became very challenging. His fingers took their sweet time brushing across my skin and tucking my hair out of the way of the traitorous zipper.

He pulled gently, and down it zipped.

“There. I didn’t seem to have any problem.”

“Well that’s so nice for you, ” I snapped, trying to turn back around.

He held my shoulders so I couldn’t. Ever so slowly, he pressed his lips on the spot the zipper had revealed. My skin burned with the contact and the rest of me melted into jelly. I wanted to sag against him, but I didn’t.

“Hunter, ” I said. Well, it was more like a whisper.

“Sorry. Couldn’t resist. I’m drawn to you. It drives me absolutely insane that I have to be with you all the time and I can’t touch you.”

I willed my foot to move so I could take a step forward, and thus away from him. Finally, my foot complied. I felt the exact same way about him, but I couldn’t move forward. There was a giant secret standing in our way.

“I can’t.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll behave.” I met his eyes, and had to look away. I wanted to tell him not to. To throw everything out of the window and kiss me like he had when we’d nearly broken the recliner.

“I need to change, ” I said, my voice loud in the quiet room.

“Okay.” He turned and left.

I could still feel his lips on my back as I slid a t-shirt over my head and put on some shorts. I should have put on a long-sleeved ensemble so as to leave the least amount of skin visible, but it was a warm night and our apartment had crappy ventilation.

I heard the microwave ding when I came out.

“I think I might need a little help with my zipper, why don’t you give me a hand? ” Hunter said, turning his back.

“Sorry, my hands are full, ” I said, grabbing the steaming popcorn bag and the bowl he’d set out and holding them up. “You’ll have to do it all by yourself.”

“Fine. But you’re missing out.” Didn’t I know it.

He closed the door, and I leaned against the counter. Why, why did the things he said have to start sounding good? Why did I want to walk into that room and say, ‘Hell yes, I’ll help you with that zipper and the rest of your clothes, get them off NOW.’?

I felt my forehead. Maybe I had a fever. Maybe it was the red velvet cake that had gotten me all riled up. Or maybe it was the damn song. What girl wasn’t a sucker for a guy who could sing? It was why Christine had gone down to the Phantom’s creepy underground lair. It was why so many women threw themselves at rock stars, good-looking or not so much.

By the time he came out, I was situated on the couch with the popcorn in a bowl and two sodas complete with coasters. Darah would have a hissy fit if she knew we hadn’t used coasters.

“Coasters, good thinking, ” Hunter said, nodding to our drinks.

“I thought so.”

He had boxers and a gray tank on. On anyone else, it would have been boxers and a gray tank. On Hunter, it was… damn sexy.

“Do I have something on my face? ” he said, catching me in the act of staring.

“No.”

“Then why were you looking at me like that? ”

“I wasn’t.” Deny, deny, deny.

“Okay then, you weren’t.” He sat down next to me and grabbed his drink. “You got the movie in? ”

“Yup.” I had the remote in my hand, but I didn’t want to push play. Hunter took a sip of his drink as I fought the urge to throw myself at him. I grabbed the popcorn bowl and put it between us as a buffer. Why had Renee and Darah done this to me? I knew they thought they were helping, but this most certainly was not helping.

I hit play on the movie, hoping against hope that it would serve as a distraction.

It worked for about five seconds. Then Hunter’s hand and mine collided in the popcorn bowl in one of those movie moments. I snatched mine back, but he stopped me.

“Can I be honest with you right now? ” he said.

My mouth was dry as I said, “Sure. When are you not honest with me? With the exception of one time.”

“Yes, well, ” he said, rubbing his tattoo one, two, three times. Uh oh. “I’m going to be brutally honest, okay? ”

“Once again, when are you not? But carry on, ” I said, waving my hand for him to continue. The movie blared in the background, but it might as well have been in Esperanto for all the attention I was paying to it.

He took a breath.

“I want you. Right now. If you said yes, I would kiss you. I would kiss you until we both forgot that lips were made for anything other than kissing. I’d take you out of that outfit, as cute as it is. I want to see what you look like with nothing on. I want to make you sigh like you did with the cake. I want to be with you. Right now.”

“Right now? ” I squeaked.

“Right now. Fuck the movie.” He grabbed the remote and paused the movie. “I just thought you should know how I feel.”

I had to close my eyes for a second. He was so close, it was hard to think. My brain just went blank, and decided to picture all the things he’d talked about. My skin hummed, ready and waiting.

“I…”

“I’m not asking you to. I know this is hard for you. I just wanted you to know that that was something I wanted to do.” I opened my eyes.

“You’ve been saying stuff like that to me since day one.”

“Not like this. Those other girls? That stuff I did with them? That was just sex. I never want to have just sex again. I want to get lucky with you. Only you. Bottom line.”

I fumbled for a response.

“I’ll make a note of it, ” I said.

“Okay, then.” He took the remote and turned the movie back on, settling back as if nothing had happened. What. The. Fuck.

I turned my head toward the movie, but I was even more distracted. He’d planted the seed of that idea in my head and now that thing was growing as if someone had Miracle-Gro-ed the shit out of it. Mental weed killer wasn’t going to work on that sucker.

The next hour was pure torture. Part of me wondered if he’d done it on purpose. To tease me. He’d done things like that before. Our hands didn’t collide in the popcorn bowl, and he pretended as if we were two friends watching a movie.

When it was over, and the popcorn was gone, I waited for him to say something.

“You tired? ” I asked. I didn’t have to be up too early, but I knew he did.

“Yeah, I guess we should go to bed.”

It was a very anticlimactic end to our date. He got up and gathered the remnants of our movie snacks and threw them in the sink.

“I’m gonna go brush my teeth, ” he said, stepping around me.

I went into the bedroom and tried to get myself under control.

Not good, not good, not good.

I had to put a cork in my hormones. I’d never reacted like that to anyone. No guy had ever made me feel like I was on fire. I’d thought all that talk about it was just people being melodramatic. Guess it wasn’t.

He came back and without another look at me, shucked off his shirt and got into bed. Oh that was it.

“What the hell, dude? ”

“What? ” He turned over, as if he had no idea what I was talking about.

“Are you kidding? Seriously? All that talk about the wanting and the kissing and everything and now you’re going to just pretend like it didn’t happen? What the hell is wrong with you? ”

“I just thought that I’d been too forward and I thought that I’d freaked you out. I was just giving you space.”

“Oh.”

“So how did you feel about what I said? ”

I sputtered for a second, unable to use actual words. Just sounds.

“Can I take that as a confirmation that yes, it would be something you would be interested in? ” His blue eyes begged me to say yes.

“I don’t know. Maybe? ”

“There’s no maybe about it, Missy. Either yes or no.”

“Can I have some time? ”

“Sure, Miss. There’s no expiration date on my offer. If you come to me in sixty years, I’ll be waiting with a bottle of Viagra.”

Ew and yuck.

“Thanks for tonight. I had a really good time.” How was this supposed to work? I mean, usually a date ended and the guy dropped the girl off and they said goodnight. With us, there was no goodnight. We’d see each other when we woke up.

“Good. That was the plan.” I got into bed, trying not to stare at his chest. “Can I ask one more thing? ” he said.

“Uh, sure.”

“Can I kiss you goodnight? ”

“I guess so.”

“You seemed to enjoy it the last couple times.”

“Shut up.” And kiss me, I didn’t say.

He got out of bed and walked slowly to mine. I got up and we stared at one another for a breath of time. He leaned down, and I waited this time.

“Goodnight, Taylor.”

He leaned down and pressed the sweetest, briefest kiss in the history of the world. He tried to pull away, but my lips and the rest of me wouldn’t let him. I pulled him back for just a second before I slammed the door on my desire and was able to detach myself from him.

“Goodnight, Hunter.” I somehow got myself back into bed. He stood there for a moment before sighing and going to his bed.

“Love me? ” he whispered as he tossed his boxers on the floor.

“Nope.”

“Hate me? ”

“Not as much as conjugating verbs.”

“Good.”

My body hummed with energy. There was no way I was getting to sleep at this point. It was going to be a long night.

Twenty-Three

I’d never experienced the “hot and bothered” feeling, but around 3 a.m., I had to get up and get out of the room. I could hear Hunter’s every breath and movement like never before. I had a brief notion of going to sleep, or trying to, in Darah and Renee’s room, but then Hunter would know that I was hot and bothered.

I didn’t look at my face in the mirror because I didn’t want to see it. Instead I sat on the rim of the tub and twirled my hair with one finger. It was a habit I’d picked up when I was a kid that I hadn’t done in a long time. When I’d been young, I’d twirled so much I’d actually pulled some of my hair out. My therapist at the time, Dr. Blood, had given me a stress ball, but that hadn’t helped. I was irreparably broken.

I’d accepted the fact that I was messed up a long time ago. It was one of the reasons I’d promised myself to not get involved with anyone. No one should have to deal with my issues, other than me. It was easy, because there wasn’t anyone that I wanted to be with anyway.

Until now.

Hunter had said that he wanted me, and I couldn’t deny it any longer. I wanted him, too. I wanted him so much I could barely stand it. I spent nearly every waking hour with him, and I lamented the hours we were apart. Not because I needed him all the time, but I missed him when he wasn’t around. There were times when I’d see something, or someone would say something and I’d think, ‘Hunter would love that, ’ or ‘the only other person who would find this funny is Hunter.’ I missed having his running commentary on everything.