It would be wrong to eavesdrop, but I can’t help but feel the tiniest bit suspicious about who is on the other end of the call…
Ripping open my small pantry cupboard, I rummage around to find a quick sweet treat I can nibble on to tide me over before dinner.
I inhale three Oreos in one go, licking the chocolate crumbs from my fingers while I react to a couple of skit videos Rosie is so keen on sending me.
Without really thinking about it, I end up scrolling through Instagram, double tapping a few pictures here and there.
I’m seven photographs deep when I stop my trawling, taking in the sudden sight of Hudson, a small baby girl giggling in his corded arms.
My heart squeezes at the sight. Hudson sports a matching grin, his eyes fixed on the child he’s holding.
God, this man. Every time I think I have him figured out; he ends up surprising me, showing me another side to him I didn’t even know existed.
A slip of my thumb and I find myself staring down at the usually busy selection of Hudson’s tagged photographs.
Except it’s almost empty.
Instead, a handful of rows fill the space, each more personal looking than the last. In each of them, Hudson is grinning, that smile I’ve come to love etched across his easy-going features.Some of them are blurry and imperfect – snapshots taken mid-movement or by surprise – but I find I like them better that way.
Gone are the images of random women, roaming hands and drunken kisses. Replaced by photos of Hudson’s family, laughing and joking; their love for one another plain as day.
I hear the door open and click shut, but I don’t look up.
It doesn’t take long for Hudson to find me, coming up behind me and wrapping his muscular arms around my waist. For a heartbeat, I close my eyes, basking in the familiar safety I’ve come to feel whenever I’m with him.
Placing his chin on my shoulder, he peers over to see what I’m looking at.
“Where are all your photos, Hudson?” I ask, quietly, practically holding my breath so I can hear his answer.
I don’t expect his rumble of laughter to vibrate through me as he moulds his hands to my hips.
“I knew you were a secret stalker, Gee.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m being serious.”
Turning me in his arms, he stares down at me, dipping to glance at my lips. With a shrug, Hudson runs the pad of his thumb along my jawline. “I deleted them.”
“Why?” I croak.
“Because I don’t need them.” He smiles softly. “They don’t serve me anymore. I don’t want you to see them, Gee. All I need is you; nobody else. Ever.”
My eyes sting with tears, my voice watery, but I don’t shy away from him. “Ever?”
“Ever,” Hudson confirms, cupping my head and bringing his lips to my hairline.
I sniff wetly, gripping at his biceps. “W-who was on the phone?”
Pulling back, I watch as Hudson takes a deep breath, the entirety of his ribcage and the top portion of his torso that I can see, expanding. “My therapist.”
I pause, staring up into those green eyes of his.
“Hudson…”
“It’s okay, Gee.” He swallows thickly, meeting my gaze head on. “You can ask.”
Nodding, I press my lips together tightly. “So, your therapist was on the phone?”
“Yep. I’ve got my first appointment with him next week.”
