“Why in the hell wouldn’t you believe me?” He pulls the covers further onto his side of the bed.
I shrug. Because it seemed too good to be true, but I don’t say that out loud. I’m sure he considers me crazy.
“I would’ve tried harder, but quite frankly I don’t know what to do.”
He leans a little closer and I reason he’s going to kiss me. My heart rate picks up in anticipation, and my lips pucker slightly as I start to close my eyes.
“I worry if I start something now I won’t be able to stop it.”
“Do you have to?” I ask not opening my eyes.
Hudson swallows a harsh breath, increasing the distance between us. The sound of his pillows fluffing forces me to open my eyes. My excitement from seconds earlier floats away and I brush a piece of my hair back acting like I’m not upset over the fact that once again I’ve been rejected.
“Are you sure you don’t want to move to Maine? Pelican Bay is a great little town.”
What? Is he serious right now?
I consider it for a minute. My mind pictures a tiny little seaside town with cute little stores out the front and where everyone knows each other. It sounds great sometimes. I love my dogs, but it’s not like I’m solving world hunger or curing cancer in the dog food division of my company.
But I love San Francisco and for the first time my life I have a group of friends. They’re amazing wonderful women who are supportive and friendly. And even though they’ve all gone off and gotten married, they still find time to get together. They know what’s important in life.
The city of San Francisco is the first time I’ve felt at home. It’s the perfect temperature year-round, it’s by the water, and the people are wonderful. Everyone is open and accepting of one another. It’s a place where I can be surrounded with people yet still find a quiet space to sit alone if I need. Sure, the traffic sucks, but now I live in the city and rarely drive. Am I willing to give this up to chase the dream of finding my own Finn or Trey or Grant with Hudson?
“I know,” Hudson says his eyes sad but understanding. He swipes a piece of my hair back and tucks it behind my ear before rolling over, laying his head on the pillow and closing his eyes.
I pretend to watch the television, but my attention keeps drifting to him as he quickly falls asleep. It’s not until the first time he snores that I finally allow the tears to trickle down my face. They flow softly at first and then faster.
Aren’t people supposed to have life figured out by now? I have no idea what I’m doing. They say fake it until you make it, but so far I’m just a big fake. My friends have found significant others. They have good jobs and hobbies. Their shit is figured out. I’m over here dating losers, falling for my bodyguard, and handing out dog food samples for a living. What kind of person has to bribe dogs to like them?
If only someone could tell me the future. Is the right move to finally give up the happiness I found here? Hudson is wonderful, and a man has never made me yearn for someone the way he does, but we only met recently. One make-out session isn’t enough to guess the measure of a man. But on the other hand, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do for love? Take the chance? Follow the unknown and hope one day you get your happily ever after?
I wish I knew if my happily ever after is in San Francisco or with Hudson in Pelican Bay.
13
“How long do you plan to stay?” Hudson asks, but he never looks in my direction. Instead his hawk eyes survey the streets outside of Cosmo’s Comics and Café’s large glass window covering the entire front of the building.
“I don’t know. Sometimes we stick around for an hour and a half, sometimes a day.” You never can guess what to expect when your best friend is Aspen.
This causes his head to swivel in my direction, his eyes wide in fear, shock, and a little annoyance. “All day? A group of highly wealthy people and their wives and girlfriends sit around in an unsecure comic shop with a huge non-bulletproof glass window every single Sunday morning?”
When he puts it that way. “Kind of.” My face scrunches because I can guess where this line of questioning goes. We’ve been here before. I don’t know why he’s so upset now.
“And do you do this every Sunday?”
“Like clockwork.” I twist my fingers together and hold them in front of me pretending to stare at my nonexistent nail polish. What’s the point of lying? I’m trying not to add more to my pile.
Hudson stops speaking, his head tilted a fraction as he stares at me. He doesn’t ask, yet there’s practically a slew of questions seeping out of his brain. His eyes ask them. Are we morons? Do we have death wishes? Have I never heard of security? Do we want someone to be kidnapped?
I’ve never seen it that way, but after spending so much time with the paranoid hyperaware security expert, there are times I understand his point of view. Maybe.
“Nothing bad has ever happened before. It’ll be okay,” I say, patting him on the shoulder and hoping he doesn’t get mad and take my hand off. Who knows what this man learned while he was in the military. He could kill me three hundred and seven different ways.
“That’s your argument?” Hudson scoffs. “Until this year you never saw someone get shot. It only takes once.”
“Touché.” I lower the corner of my lip as Hudson maintains guard at the front window. I hate not knowing if he’s overreacting or not. To say the man is intense is an understatement. Is he paranoid or good at his job?
It seems absolutely absurd. Hudson is one of the men you’d see pictures of online and say to yourself, “Man, his wife is one lucky bitch…” Okay well at least that’s what Marissa would say. I can barely comprehend a world where Hudson might be interested in me. Every time we’re alone and he’s not staring out of windows acting like a reincarnated ninja, I hope there’s more to him. There’s more to the way he looks at me. When I say something goofy, I wouldn’t imagine saying in front of another man, yet he only crinkles his eyes, smiles with a chuckle, and shakes his head.
