Update: Caught a “real” fish. Manny’s still unimpressed. The wilderness is harsh and unforgiving.
Attached was a picture of a slightly larger but still unimpressive fish, with Manny visible in the background, clearly laughing his ass off.
I couldn’t help smiling as I typed back.
Tragic. Your fragile masculinity may never recover.
“And there’s that smile again. You know, it’s okay to admit you like him.” Lia finished her champagne, and one of the workers refilled it almost immediately.
I sighed, knowing I wasn’t going to win this one. “Fine. He’s not entirely awful. Sometimes. On rare occasions. When the stars align.”
“Wow, such passion,” Michaela deadpanned. “Try not to overwhelm us with your enthusiasm.”
“What Michaela means,” Lia said, shooting her friend a look, “is that life’s too short to play games. If you like him, tell him.”
“We have a date next week,” I admitted, immediately regretting it when all three women squealed loud enough to make the pedicurists jump.
“A real date? Like, romantic dinner, possible goodnight kiss, not-talking-about-work date?” Lia’s sister pressed.
“As opposed to what? A fake date?”
“As opposed to one of those not-dates that you convince yourself is just a colleague thing,” Lia clarified. “Where you talk about work the whole time and pretend you’re not checking out each other’s asses when the other isn’t looking.”
“I do not check out Hudson’s ass,” I lied, because I absolutely did. The man wore tailored pants as if they were invented specifically for him.
All three women gave me identical looks of disbelief.
“Fine!” I threw up my hands. “Yes, it’s an actual date. Happy now?”
“Ecstatic,” Lia said, beaming. “It’s about time. Manny and I have had our bets going since we hired you two.”
“First of all, rude. And second, it’s just dinner,” I protested. “Don’t start planning our wedding yet.”
“Honey, that’s literally your job,” Michaela pointed out.
I rolled my eyes and drained my champagne, pointedly ignoring their knowing smiles. But as the conversation moved on to the latest Hollywood gossip, I considered the date. I thoughtabout Hudson’s smile when I’d said yes. About the way he’d held me during our dance research.
It was terrifying how much I was looking forward to it.
Later that evening, after dinner and several rounds of increasingly raunchy bachelorette games that had even made me blush (and I once accidentally walked in on Anica and Callan doing things I still couldn’t unsee on her desk), I escaped to the resort’s outdoor lounge area. Most of the other guests had gone to bed, leaving the fire pit area deserted.
I settled into a comfortable chair, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders against the chilly night air. The fire crackled, and stars twinkled overhead in the clear night sky. It was peaceful. Romantic even, if I had someone to share it with.
And there my mind went, straight to Hudson again. Pathetic.
Anica would’ve given me so much shit if she were here. Devonna too. But especially Anica, since I’d been an absolute menace when she and Callan had been dancing around their feelings for each other.
Since I was alone and already feeling pathetic, I pulled out my tablet and opened the files for my app project. I’d been meaning to update some wireframes based on Hudson’s suggestions from that night in the office, before we’d gotten... distracted, and then life had gotten busy with the Kussikov-Martin wedding and several other client weddings.
As I worked, adding features and refining the design, I realized something that made me pause: I was creating spaces for a partner in the workflow. Not just any partner; a partner with Hudson’s specific skills. Here, a section for vendor contract management that played to his attention to detail. There, a budget tracking system that would benefit from his analytical approach. Even the color scheme had shifted to incorporate some of the more subdued tones he favored alongside my brighter palette.
Holy shit. I wasn’t just designing an app. I was designing a future where Hudson and I worked together. Where our strengths complemented each other. Where we were partners in more ways than one.
“Oh, this is bad,” I muttered to myself, staring at the evidence of my feelings laid out in wireframes and mockups. “This is very, very bad.”
My phone rang, making me jump. Hudson’s name flashed on the screen, as if my treacherous thoughts had summoned him.
“Are you psychic now?” I answered instead of hello.
