“I didn’t know you were in therapy…”
“It’s new. It was Dad’s idea, actually. The last time I spoke to him, we got talking and he-he mentioned the possibility of going to seek out a professional, a-a therapist. You know, to help deal with my emotional unavailability and my mother’s illness and—”
My heart sinks somewhere past my stomach.
“Your mum’s ill?”
“Not anymore, but she was when I was a boy. Breast cancer. It was a rough time for my family, for myself; my childhood wasn’t like everyone else’s, no matter how much my dad and brothers tried to keep a sense of normalcy going. It just wasn’t there. It’s only as I’ve gotten older that I’ve realised just how much it affected me and the way I navigate relationships…”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” Hudson presses his lips together tightly. “I’m pretty sure it’s a fear of becoming close to someone and then potentially losing them. I watched my dad go through it, watched him become older and wearier, full of more frown lines, by the day. I watched him come and go to the hospital where Mum was receiving her treatment, his eyes lined red raw. It nearly destroyed him to know we were all so close to losing her, and I’m not sure I’d be strong enough to deal with it, head on, like my dad did.”
I can’t blink back the tears, instead letting them spill out onto my cheeks. “I’m really sorry you had to go through that, Hudson.”
“Thank you.” He presses his lips to mine ever so softly, as if he’s treasuring every second, using the backs of his fingers to wipe away my tears. “I’m working on it now, for me, for you. For us. So, we can be better together. Don’t cry, okay?”
“Okay,” I agree, feeling my heart swell in my chest.
God. I am so inexplicably, head-over-heels in love with this man, it almost hurts.
Later, when we’re lying on the sofa, a mindless reality TV show playing in the background to soften the edges of an emotionally charged day, Hudson nudges at my hip. I peer over at him, my hand carding his hair back from his face, pausing in its tracks.
“Will you go out with me?”
I bob my head, not even bothering to hold back my giddy grin. “When?”
“How about Friday?”
“Friday?”
“Yeah.” Hudson nods, curving his large body around mine until I’m the little spoon. “Friday. Me. You. It can be our first proper date.”
“I like the sound of that,” I admit with a smile so big it makes my cheeks begin to ache.
“Good.” Hudson’s grin mirrors my own. “Me too. I’ll pick you up at seven, alright?”
Chapter 22
Giselle
I’m like a bottle of expensive champagne that’s been shaken, cork exploding and bubbles frothing excitedly all over the place as I get dressed for Hudson and I’s first official date, only a few days after he proposed the idea.
I get ready in my bathroom – the most luxurious room in my small apartment, and the main reason I pay so much rent, that, and just living in London means paying extortionate prices – balancing a small glass of wine on the porcelain side of the bathtub, while I plug the tub and turn the hot water dial on.
Throwing in two handfuls of muscle relaxant salts for good measure, I strip off and step one foot and then the other into the bath, stretching out my body until I’m fully submerged.
With wet hands, I make a grab for my wine glass, sipping slowly so as to not make myself feel sick.
I stay in the tub until the water is lukewarm, bordering on cold, and the skin on my fingers is wrinkled and pruned like a swimmer whose been underwater too long.
Pressing my heel into the plug, I drain the water, and wrap a towel around myself. Once slathered from head to toe in my favourite scented body lotion, I pad back into my bedroom, pulling out a matching black lace underwear set. I hardly doubttonight will be the night Hudson and I sleep together, but I’m not going to be the one to stop him if he wants to get a little glimpse of what’s hiding beneath my clothes.
I shimmy my way into a pair of black leather trousers that make my arse look fucking fantastic if I do say so myself and a dark blue, racer back, crop top.
Leaving my hair pin straight and cascading down my back, I dust a smoky eye over my lids, apply more bronzer than blush and a final swipe of red gloss across my lips.
I’m slipping my feet into a pair of heels when I hear the distinctive sound of the buzzer ring through my apartment.
