“Probably be really bored,” he deadpans, making me laugh again.
“So bored,” I agree.
And I feel a bit better than I did even an hour ago. I might not have a whole big, detailed plan for my future like I did before my split with Shelby, but at least now I have a plan that feels like a step in the right direction.
One more thing to thank Adrian for.
8
ADRIAN
“And how would you describe your ideal partner?” I ask Hudson.
I quickly took over as the one typing as we fill this out so I could have something to focus on other than how hot he looks right now in his faded black Werewolves sweats. He is, yet again, not wearing a shirt.
Have I kept the place a little warmer than necessary since he moved in? So what? He hasn’t complained.
“Umm, kind, funny, smart. I’ve always been attracted to confidence too,” he answers, pulling my focus back to this stupid app I’m setting up for him.
Ugh. Why did I agree to do this again? Creating a dating profile for your perfect man to help him start seeing someone else—probably another hot confident blond supermodel with big tits—should be considered a cruel and unusual form of torture.
Hudson was gone for a few days with a stretch of away games, and I was kind of hoping that he’d have gotten impatient and started this whole thing without me.
Or better yet, decided he didn’t actually need to create anydating profiles because he was already living with the perfect candidate.
Except that obviously didn’t happen. He flew in late last night, and when I got home from work today, he was already waiting for me with our fancy pre-made-by-his-personal-chef meals heating up. And as soon as we started eating, he asked if we could work on this after dinner.
I had no excuse not to help him. The truth of “sorry but I’m far too jealous to help when all I want to do is sabotage any date you ever try to go on with anyone other than me” probably wouldn’t have gone over well.
And I do want him to be happy.
So now here we are, sitting side by side at the table, building a dating profile so he can finally move on from his ex-wife… with someone who isn’t me. It's not a surprise—he's straight,I remind myself for the millionth time—but somehow knowing that doesn't stop it from stinging.
After he let that little comment slip about preferring to not be alone, I’ve realized he’sneveractually talked about trying to find his own place. I’ve been afraid to ask and remind him that it was even an option, but as far as I know, he’s content to stay with me for now.
And I’m more than happy with that arrangement. But I also know exactly how this is going to go when he starts dating again. Anyone he shows the slightest interest in is going to fall head-over-heels in about two seconds.I know I have.
And then he’ll realize bringing home his date to my guest bedroom isn’t as appealing as it would be if he had a house of his own. I’ll be lucky if he’s still here in a week.
My nights of coming home to dinner, chatting about our days, and ending with relaxing on the couch together watching TV are numbered.
I guess I already knew they were, he could find hisown house tomorrow, but for some reason, creating a dating profile for him makes his leaving seem far more real than I care to focus on.
I just hope they deserve him, that it isn’t another Shelby situation where he settles for the first woman that checks his boxes.
I wonder if he’d let me screen his dates to make sure they’re worth his time. Or maybe I can meet them after he actually likes someone enough for a second date, see if they seem like a good fit.
Ugh. That would be weird, right? Hudson and I are friends, and honestly new friends at that. Just because we’re living together doesn’t mean he owes me any extra access to his life. The fact he’s asked me to help with this at all is more than I would have expected.
“What’s your ideal first date?” I prompt.
He takes a second to think about it, because he actually cares about this. He’s so invested in finding his person, and it’s so fucking sweet I could puke.
“I’d love somewhere public enough that they’re comfortable, but private enough that we can talk and get to know each other. Maybe dinner in a quiet restaurant overlooking the lake. Oh, at sunset, that’s my favorite.”
Of course it is.Every answer he’s giving is so endearing that if I didn’t know him, I would think this was a fake profile with how perfect he seems. But no, the man sitting next to me is very real, and he genuinely enjoys all the cliché things his profile will advertise.
I love them too, damn it.
