The main problem is Hudson doesn’t know me as well as he thinks he does, so every minute we sit here in silence I get more irritated. And then I get sad and then I get more irritated he let me ride a roller coaster of emotion for the last day. What he hasn’t anticipated is at some point the words I haven’t spoken to him are going to come flying out. Like a child who eats too much cotton candy and then rides the tilt-a-whirl.
It won’t be pretty. That’s for sure.
Not only are we not speaking to one another, but apparently, we’re not even sharing the same room since Hudson set himself up with a makeshift workstation at my dining room table and hasn’t left since we returned home from work. It means when there’s a knock on the door he’s able to jump up and have the door open before I’ve even made it off the couch.
“Marissa?” Hudson asks like he doesn’t know who she is or why she’d be here. Good to see it’s only me he isn’t talking to. I’d hate for him to ignore my friends as well.
So much for being a super smart guy. Did he forget she’s my next-door neighbor?
“Hudson, I’m here to get Amanda for a special friend time. It’s this thing we do once a month, and she’s late.” Marissa bats her eyelashes at the unsuspecting hunk. Except we’ve never had “special friend time.” In fact, it sounds like something the Care Bears would sponsor. Either Simone has been planning something unsupervised or Marissa is up to no good. I put my money on Marissa.
“It’s not safe for Amanda to leave.” Hudson blocks the doorway like he’s my father barring me from hanging out with my friends. I scowl at him from across the room. Where does this man get off?
Marissa isn’t fazed. She laughs as if he said the funniest thing in the entire world. “Don’t be silly, Hudson. We’ll be right across the hallway.”
I close the book I’ve been reading and get ready to head over to Marissa’s place. I have no idea what’s going on and I’m scared, but a root canal sounds better than sitting here not talking to Hudson.
“Then you won’t mind if I come with you,” Hudson says, not moving from his position.
“Hudson,” I say, ready to face off against him.
“Amanda,” he says turning in my direction, his arms crossed.
I take the same stance. “Hudson.”
“We have a situation to discuss.”
“I didn’t hear you doing any talking.”
He doesn’t say anything, but the angry look on his face is enough. Let him be pissed. I am too.
“I’m going.” I’m an adult and he won’t stop me from walking across the hallway.
We stare at each other for another thirty seconds or so when he finally sighs and steps away from the doorway. “Fine, but if anything happens, call me immediately.”
I walk out of the apartment and stand in the hallway. “I’m sure you’d hear me scream.”
Marissa’s eyes are wide but she takes two steps backward not turning around.
“Not funny, Amanda.” Hudson watches us walk across the small space separating Marissa’s large penthouse from my tiny mother-in-law suite.
She opens the door, but waits until we’re both on the other side before she says, “Wow, that was interesting. Has he kidnapped you?”
“Men are such jerks,” I say plopping on a couch like I own the place. I’ve spent a lot of time here since she hooked up with Ryland. Marissa isn’t picky about the furniture.
She doesn’t sit beside me. “Yes, they are.”
“So, what’s going on over here?” I ask when she doesn’t continue and I worry I’m about to spend my night sitting on her couch still not talking to anyone.
“Just a minute,” she says pointing at the hallway.
There’s a metal on metal sound, the grinding of elevator cables. And then there’s the noise you hear when an elevator door opens followed by female laughter. I’ve definitely been set up. Out of Marissa’s hallway walks Aspen, Simone, and Clare, the three of them full of smiles. I can’t guess how long they’ve been waiting in the private elevator, which opens directly into Marissa’s home, but I’m smart enough to realize she’s planned this.
It’s an ambush of women. The pushy kind who get into your business and give you unwanted advice kind of women. It’s my own fault. I should’ve seen this coming. They’ve held their tongues longer than anyone could have guessed.
If this happened a year ago, I would’ve done my best to avoid it. Tried to get up and leave the room. Taken a page from Clare’s book and faked the stomach flu, but now it’s no use. They’d track me down and tell me what to do as I leaned over the toilet bowl pretending to dry heave. Nobody wants to see that. There’s no getting out of this.
Each woman takes a chair in Marissa’s living room and settles like we’re here for an intervention. It’s probably how they see it. I stare at Aspen, waiting for her to speak first — isn’t it always the one you trust the most who leads the group — but to my surprise Marissa leads the charge. I’m in more trouble than I thought. If you have to hear advice from this group, it’s always a good sign when it comes from Aspen. You never want Marissa to be the one dishing out truth popsicles.
