scooting across the sofa. “I wasn't thinking at all about how this makes you feel.”
He pulled her close and gave her a long kiss. “You'll still be my girl, right?” he asked anxiously. “I know twelve weeks must seem like forever but I'll rush right back to you, Baby.”
Amber had to blink back tears of relief. He really did care.
“Hey, I'll have time to earn enough money to take you to a really fancy restaurant when you get back,” she said, trying to smile. “And you'll have to wear a fancy suit and tie.”
Hunter sighed, clearly relieved. He kissed her again and then hopped up from the sofa. “I should really call my mom,” he said. “Do you mind? I'll call from my bedroom so I don't disturb you.”
“Of course not!” Amber said, forcing her lips into a smile. A part of him was already gone.
As she watched Hunter pad into his room, she realized that she didn't even know when he was leaving. But the letter was still lying on the coffee table. Feeling guilty, she scooted over to where she could see it without picking it up. She kept looking up, half expecting to see Hunter returning. She didn't want to look like she was spying. But the reality was that she had to know all the details.
With a wary glance at Hunter's bedroom door, she turned the letter so that it was facing towards her. Sitting on the very edge of the sofa, she opened a large art magazine and placed it over her lap.
The first thing she saw was the stationary heading with a woman's name. Isabelle Lebas. Was this the woman that Hunter would be working for? Even without picking up the letter she could smell the perfumed stationary. Isabelle obviously had no qualms in sending perfumed stationary to a new employee. For a second Amber almost didn't read the letter. Hadn't Hunter just called her “his girl?” Hadn't he said that the green bracelet was to remind her that she was his exclusively?
Amber moved away from the letter, feeling chastised. But then she thought of Isabelle and Hunter working together. Speaking French together. Wasn't French known as the language of love? What exactly was this internship anyway? She had to know! Hell, surely he would have read the letter to her if she hadn't been so thrown that she hadn't thought to ask. Wouldn't he want her to know all the details? Sliding forward, she glanced once more at Hunter's closed door and then pored over the letter.
The typed portion of the letter read: “Dear Hunter, Apologies for the lateness of a response. I read with interest your application for the internship position at my studio. Your portfolio was intriguing. As you know, the gallery I am working with is trying to attract more Americans. Your fluency in French was unique and certainly helped your resume. With your acceptance, the position will start the beginning of November. Although I regret that we can not offer you transportation, your room and board will be covered, along with the small stipend indicated in the application materials. Please respond as soon as possible. Sincerely, Isabelle Lebas.” Below the typed script was a small personal note: “Dear Hunter, Unfortunately, the only student housing units are a half hour train ride from the studio. However, I am pleased to offer you a small, comfortable room in my own home. You will find it is within walking distance to the studio. Best, Isabelle.”
Amber stood and moved lethargically to her room. The perfume was making her head ache. She wasn't worried about having to move out. Hunter had already implied that she would simply be waiting for him. But who was this Isabelle Lebas? How old was she? Was she married? Who else lived in the house? Amber knew these were preposterous questions brought about by her own insecurities. She knew she shouldn't be jumping to any conclusions. This was a wonderful opportunity for Hunter. So why did she feel like it was the end of he world?
Amber slipped on comfortable pajama pants and wandered back into the living room.
He pulled her close and gave her a long kiss. “You'll still be my girl, right?” he asked anxiously. “I know twelve weeks must seem like forever but I'll rush right back to you, Baby.”
Amber had to blink back tears of relief. He really did care.
“Hey, I'll have time to earn enough money to take you to a really fancy restaurant when you get back,” she said, trying to smile. “And you'll have to wear a fancy suit and tie.”
Hunter sighed, clearly relieved. He kissed her again and then hopped up from the sofa. “I should really call my mom,” he said. “Do you mind? I'll call from my bedroom so I don't disturb you.”
“Of course not!” Amber said, forcing her lips into a smile. A part of him was already gone.
As she watched Hunter pad into his room, she realized that she didn't even know when he was leaving. But the letter was still lying on the coffee table. Feeling guilty, she scooted over to where she could see it without picking it up. She kept looking up, half expecting to see Hunter returning. She didn't want to look like she was spying. But the reality was that she had to know all the details.
With a wary glance at Hunter's bedroom door, she turned the letter so that it was facing towards her. Sitting on the very edge of the sofa, she opened a large art magazine and placed it over her lap.
The first thing she saw was the stationary heading with a woman's name. Isabelle Lebas. Was this the woman that Hunter would be working for? Even without picking up the letter she could smell the perfumed stationary. Isabelle obviously had no qualms in sending perfumed stationary to a new employee. For a second Amber almost didn't read the letter. Hadn't Hunter just called her “his girl?” Hadn't he said that the green bracelet was to remind her that she was his exclusively?
Amber moved away from the letter, feeling chastised. But then she thought of Isabelle and Hunter working together. Speaking French together. Wasn't French known as the language of love? What exactly was this internship anyway? She had to know! Hell, surely he would have read the letter to her if she hadn't been so thrown that she hadn't thought to ask. Wouldn't he want her to know all the details? Sliding forward, she glanced once more at Hunter's closed door and then pored over the letter.
The typed portion of the letter read: “Dear Hunter, Apologies for the lateness of a response. I read with interest your application for the internship position at my studio. Your portfolio was intriguing. As you know, the gallery I am working with is trying to attract more Americans. Your fluency in French was unique and certainly helped your resume. With your acceptance, the position will start the beginning of November. Although I regret that we can not offer you transportation, your room and board will be covered, along with the small stipend indicated in the application materials. Please respond as soon as possible. Sincerely, Isabelle Lebas.” Below the typed script was a small personal note: “Dear Hunter, Unfortunately, the only student housing units are a half hour train ride from the studio. However, I am pleased to offer you a small, comfortable room in my own home. You will find it is within walking distance to the studio. Best, Isabelle.”
Amber stood and moved lethargically to her room. The perfume was making her head ache. She wasn't worried about having to move out. Hunter had already implied that she would simply be waiting for him. But who was this Isabelle Lebas? How old was she? Was she married? Who else lived in the house? Amber knew these were preposterous questions brought about by her own insecurities. She knew she shouldn't be jumping to any conclusions. This was a wonderful opportunity for Hunter. So why did she feel like it was the end of he world?
Amber slipped on comfortable pajama pants and wandered back into the living room.
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