He moved to the door and flipped off the light, leaving me in darkness except for the faint glow of the city through the window. The door clicked shut, and I was alone.
CHAPTER 8
Cabin 7
HUDSON
The sound of my shower running woke me.
For a moment, I stared at my bedroom ceiling, disoriented. Then the memories of last night flooded back—the engagement party, Lia and Manny’s proposal, Mari’s drunken antics, and that moment when she’d called me “Daddy” with those innocent, mischievous eyes.
I groaned, throwing an arm over my face. What the hell was I doing?
The shower shut off, and I tensed. I should get up. Make coffee. Act normal. But the thought of facing Mari in the harsh light of morning after last night’s... intensity seemed daunting even for me.
Before I could talk myself into moving, my bedroom door cracked open.
“Hudson?” Mari’s voice was soft, tentative. “Are you decent?”
I sat up, pulling the sheets higher despite being fully clothed in the t-shirt and sweatpants I’d slept in. “Yes.”
She peeked around the door, looking younger and more vulnerable than I’d ever seen her. Her blonde hair was wet and slicked back, and she wore only my shirt from last night, the hem hitting mid-thigh. The sight of her in my clothing sent an unexpected wave of possessiveness through me.
“Morning,” she said, fidgeting with the hem. “Sorry to wake you. Do you have a hairdryer? If I don’t, my hair goes all frizzy, and then I look like I belong in a different decade and?—”
“Cabinet under the sink.”
“Already looked. Just found an impressive collection of skin care products.”
“The other cabinet.”
She nodded. “Thanks. And, um... thank you for last night. For not letting me, you know...”
“Make a drunken mistake?” I supplied.
“Yeah.” Her cheeks flushed slightly. “That.”
We stared at each other for a moment. She really pulled off the rumpled-just-woke-up-with-a-likely-hangover-and-still-wet-from-the-shower look.
“Coffee?”
“Please. I’ll just...” She gestured vaguely toward the bathroom. “Hair.”
I nodded, and she disappeared, closing the door behind her. I exhaled slowly, trying to recalibrate. This wasn’t how I’d expected to start my day; with Mari in my apartment, wearing my clothes, looking soft and sleepy and beautiful.
By the time she emerged with dry hair and slightly more composure, I had coffee brewing and was scrambling eggs in the kitchen.
“Your apartment is ridiculous,” she announced, sliding onto a barstool at my counter. “In a good way. Very fancy, but not obnoxious about it.”
“Thank you. I think.”
“You know what I mean.” She accepted the mug of coffee I slid toward her with a grateful nod. “This is just so... you.”
“And what am I exactly?”
She took a sip, considering. “Precise. Expensive but not flashy. Everything in its place, but not sterile.” Her eyes met mine over the rim of her mug. “More depth than expected.”
Something about her assessment made me uncomfortable; like she could see more of me than I wanted to reveal.
