“You’ve never seen it?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Well, we’ll have to remedy that, pronto. It’s a great movie.”
“If you say so.”
“Oh.” I snort. “I do.”
“Movie night? Pizza?”
“No more pizza.”
“Pasta?” He glances at me. “I’m in the mood for lasagna.”
I love lasagna. “I can make it. I’ve got my mom’s…” I stop speaking. I don’t want to finish that sentence because I’ve been doing my utter best not to think about her. I can’t. I’ve got to think of positive things right now. Crying about my mom isn’t doing that.
He must sense my issue. “Let’s order it in from Gino’s. It’s my favorite.” His hand comes to rest on my leg. “You can cook another time.”
My goodness… how in the heck did I get so lucky? I mean, meeting Hudson was a fluke, but almost from the beginning, even the day we met at the game, I felt comfortable around him. I liked him. It feels like we’ve known each other forever. I wonder if he sees I the same way? I may as well ask. “Doesn’t it seem like we’ve known each other a long time?” I sure as heck hope he doesn’t think that’s a weird question.
“It does.” I get his kind smile.
“Weird how we met, isn’t it?”
“It is. It was fate” is all he says. It’s all he needs to say, I suppose.
I repeat it for good measure. “I agree. Fate.”
* * *
“So…”Hudson’s voice sounds from somewhere outside of the dressing room. A dressing room I’m currently sweating in as I try to get a pair of dress pants to fit.
My reflection in the mirror isn’t pretty. The pants won’t button. Hell, they barely fit over my ass. Whispering to myself, I ask, “When did I gain weight?”
Probably eating all that ramen. And pizza, Willa.
“Why do you need the fancy duds?”
I guess I didn’t fill Hudson in on my appointment tomorrow. “I’m meeting with a friend of my dad’s.”
“Oh?”
“He’s with the police department.” I hated doing it. You know, calling someone who knew my dad in the hopes it’ll lead to a job. But my father would have been the first to tell me to do whatever I needed to do.
“Is it about your dad?”
Shimmying out of the pants that won’t button, I look at the pile of discarded clothes and sigh. “No.” Reaching for the last remaining item to try on, I frown. It’s a dress. A plain, black dress with a subtle, raised pattern. It looks to be fitted at the waist and flares out on the bottom. When I explained what I needed, the clerk brought it to my room along with several other items that I couldn’t squeeze into along with this dress. She’d said “It’s a classic look. You can wear it to work and add some jewelry for a night out on the town after work.”
I’ve heard that before, but in my whole life, I’ve never been a woman who needed to spice up her work outfit for a ‘night out on the town’. Except, maybe if this thing with Hudson and me works out, I could be one of those women.
Pulling the dress from the hanger, I sigh once again. “Please fit.”
Unzipping the back, I step into the dress and pull it up. Reaching behind me, I can only get the zipper up a few inches. “Hudson?”
“Yeah?”
“Will you help me zip this dress?” Or try to. I’m still not convinced it’s gonna work.
