“Hot dogs!” Jed’s innocent excitement made her smile. He was more grown up and much taller than she last remembered him, but he hadn’t lost that big kid heart. She hoped he never would.
“Not just any hot dogs. Chicago-style hot dogs.”
“What are those?” Jed asked.
“You haven’t lived until you’ve had a Chicago-style hot dog. Everyone makes them a little different, but this is my favorite way.” She emptied the contents of her cradled arms into a camping chair. “Got any sticks?”
As the men cooked hot dogs over the open fire, Reese prepared the fixings. No doubt she had Ronnie to thank for picking up all the right ingredients. It made her smile, her friend thinking of her enough to stock things that reminded her of home.Is Ronnie trying to tell me something?
“What goes on a Chicago-style hot dog?” Hudson asked.
“Magic.” Reese took the first cooked hot dog off the stick with a bun, layering it with Dijon mustard, sweet relish, sliced tomatoes, and caramelized onions. “Boys, your life is about to be forever changed.” She finished up the first with pickles and a dash of celery salt, handing it over to Jed.
As she fixed another for Hudson, she watched Jed’s reaction. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to because his skeptical expression morphing into delight said it all. “Can I have another one? Or two?”
“Told you.”
They enjoyed hot dogs, the crackling fire, and the starry sky in comfortable silence. Chicago was never silent. It didn’t matter what hour of the night, there was always a siren or car honking. The city never slept. She could never see more than a single bright star on the clearest nights. Out here, there were millions.
Having been born and raised in Chicago, she didn’t know anything else. Not until she visited Starlight for the first time.
The silence was one of her favorite things about it. The same reason she’d browsed local real estate listings again when Vanessa’s email made her eyes go crossed. She couldn’t stay, but she didn’t want to leave.
A problem without a solution.
“Those were amazing,” Jed said after polishing off his third and standing. “I could eat three more, but I better turn in. Hudson, I’ll get that east-side fence finished tomorrow after I tend to the horses.”
“One down, three to go,” Hudson mumbled.
“Good night,” Jed said, leaving them alone. Reese felt the urge to follow suit, but sleep would be elusive at best. Too much weighed on her mind, despite how dangerous it was to stay outside with Hudson. Every kiss they’d shared was under a star-filled sky.
She searched above for a shooting star.
She needed to make another wish. A different wish than last time.
“Finally give up on emails?” Hudson teased, poking at the fire. “Or did you sneak your laptop out here too?”
“Vanessa,” Reese said with a heavy sigh. “There’s no pleasing her.”
“So why try so hard?”
“She’s the biggest account I’ve ever landed, and I did it all on my own.” The victory she felt when they entered the marketing agreement no longer felt as fulfilling. Her words fell flat and left her feeling worn out instead of excited. “The Crazy Cookie Company.”
“Wow, that is a big deal.”
“I think it’s why they offered me the promotion and not Peter.”
“They offered you the promotion because you’re hardworking, dedicated, and talented in ways no one else can compete with,” Hudson said without missing a beat. His string of praises made her feel all tingly and weird. Like butterflies were bouncing inside her stomach. “You earned it, Reese. Don’t let that jerk make you think otherwise.”
Reese had never told Hudson the specific awful things Peter said to her when he dropped her off at the airport. The ones that made her feel a shred of doubt. But he seemed to know anyway. “You’re right,” she said, reaching for Jed’s abandoned stick and poking at the fire, pretending she knew what she was doing.
“I’m proud of you, you know,” he added.
She looked up, but Hudson’s feet were kicked up and his head tilted back toward the stars. “So proud you tortured me with puppies I can never have?”
“You still haven’t picked out a name.”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head. “I can’t do that.”
