“Callan Burkhardt? My Callan? Anica’s husband Callan?” The room suddenly seemed to spin. “The same Callan who threatened to, and I quote, ‘digitally erase Hudson Gable from the land of the living’three weeks ago?”
Hudson nodded. “He, uh, had quite a lot to say about my character and ancestry. Used words I didn’t even know existed. I thought you swore like a sailor, but that man used curses in multiple different languages. He can be kind of terrifying.”
“I resent the fact that you think Cal swears more than I do, but go on.”
“Eventually, he agreed to help. Not for me, but for you.”
The room was definitely spinning now. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision as everything Hudson was saying swam in the whirlpool of thoughts circling my very fuzzy brain. The website. The clients. The app. Callan’s involvement. It was too much.
“Mari?” Hudson’s voice sounded distant. “Are you okay? You look pale. Mar?”
“I’m fine,” I managed, though my voice sounded strange. “Just... processing.”
“There’s one more thing.” He tapped the legal documents. “These transfer all intellectual property rights for the app to you. Completely and irrevocably. It’s yours, Mari. It always was, but now it’s legally yours too.”
The black spots grew larger. The room tilted sideways. My last coherent thought before darkness claimed me was that fainting was such a cliché, and I was going to be really annoyed with myself when I woke up. Also, falling face-first into my own melted ice cream would be a fitting end to my dignity.
“—believe she actually fainted. Like a Victorian lady with her corset laced too tight. I’m never letting her live this down.”
“Should we call a doctor?”
“No, her pulse is fine. She’s probably just malnourished from the all-ice-cream diet.”
I opened my eyes to find Anica’s face hovering over mine, her expression oscillating between concern and barely suppressed amusement. Hudson stood behind her, looking genuinely worried.
“Did I just...” I couldn’t bring myself to say it.
“Swoon at the sight of your ex-fling? Fall dramatically into a heap? Yes, yes you did.” Anica’s grin was merciless. “I got here just in time to see Hudson trying to revive you. It was very Regency romance novel, minus the empire waist dress.”
“Fuck.” I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “Please tell me I’m hallucinating this entire conversation.”
Anica was enjoying this too much. “Nope. Real life, baby. You’ve got ice cream in your hair, by the way.”
“I know.” I attempted to sit up, and the room spun alarmingly. “Okay, bad idea.”
“When was the last time you ate something that wasn’t mostly sugar?” Hudson asked, his concern apparently overriding any awkwardness about the situation.
“Define ‘ate,’” I muttered.
“I’m ordering food,” Anica announced, already pulling out her phone. “And don’t say you’re not hungry, because your body literally just shut down in protest of your treatment of it.”
“Pizza,” I said weakly. “Extra cheese. And garlic knots. Lots of garlic knots.”
“On it.” Anica stepped away to place the order, leaving me alone with Hudson.
“So,” I said, struggling for dignity despite being horizontal on my couch with ice cream in my hair. “That happened.”
“Are you okay?” he asked, genuine concern in his voice.
“Other than dying of embarrassment? Sure.” I sat up, moving slowly this time. “Just give me a minute for the room to stop spinning.”
Hudson disappeared into my kitchen, returning a moment later with a glass of water. “Small sips,” he instructed, handing it to me.
“There’s no alcohol in this.”
“Drink the fucking water, Landry.”
“Fine, asshole.” I stuck my tongue out at him, but did as I was told, using the moment to gather my thoughts, which were scattered like the confetti cannon I’d used for Anica’s twenty-fifth birthday party.
