“Do you need help?” he asked.
“No, thank you. This is my wheelhouse. I can make a late-night snack with my eyes closed.”
After a few minutes, I brought him a cup of hot chocolate and a package of Twinkies. I sat next to him on the couch, and he draped his blanket over my lap.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.
“I’m waiting for you to take a sip of the hot chocolate. I want to see you do it. I want to witness it. I never thought I would live to see such a thing. It’s like seeing Big Foot or the Loch Ness Monster.”
He smiled at me and took a sip. “Delicious. My compliments to the chef.”
“Wow, I can’t believe you just did that.”
I took a sip, too.
“I have news,” I told him to break the silence. “Remember that call I got at dinner?”
“I was wondering about that, but I didn’t want to pry.”
“It was Joe.”
“Ah, the famous Joe.” Hudson took another sip and put the cup down on the coffee table. He opened a package of Twinkies.
“Remember when I went on that bike ride?” I asked.
“With the famous Joe,” he said and took a huge bite of Twinkie.
“Not so famous. Just a deliveryman who became a friend. Aplatonicfriend,” I added softly and took another sip of my hot chocolate. “Anyway, he took me for a bike ride to see where he lives.”
“As platonic friends do,” Hudson growled and crammed the rest of the Twinkie into his mouth.
“He owns a compound. He lives in a farmhouse. He’s an artist. There’s a couple who live in a bungalow at the compound, too. They live in a bungalow, and he bakes bread, and she’s an artist. And there’s another bungalow. You should see this bungalow, Hudson. It’s so cute. So homey. I love that bungalow. Anyway, Joe offered to rent it to me, and I move in tomorrow.”
“You move in tomorrow? It’s after midnight, so you mean today?” he asked.
“I guess I do mean today.”
“In the bungalow or the farmhouse with the platonic artist?”
“In the bungalow by myself. I’m going to have my own place. I have enough money to live there for a while, but I’m going to have to figure out how to make more.”
He turned toward me, and I pulled up the blanket, tucking it under my arms. “So, this is good news? You’re happy?”
“It’s the first good thing that’s happened to me since Steve left me. Well, the second good thing.”
I avoided his gaze and drank some more hot chocolate.
Hudson cleared his throat. “You should know something. I made up the commandments. I mean, I made them up on the spot.”
“They were good commandments. But you told me there are ten. You never gave me the rest of them.”
“I leave tomorrow night.”
“Actually, you mean tonight.”
“I guess I do,” he said, softly.
“But you’ll be back. You can give the commandments to me when you return.”
