Another successful experiment.
43
What the Fuck Were You Thinking?
We managed it.
Somehow, God help me, we managed it.
Finding new couplings, retrofitting our prototypes and floor models to use them, adjusting our costings, and redrawing all our manufacturing specs…
Done.
Now all we needed to do was launch the damn thing.
Over the last few days, I was too swamped to think about much besides work. I hadn’t had the time to talk to Hudson, and even if I had, he was always running around doing some errand or another, so I couldn’t grab him. By the time the final day of the convention, the final day of Hudson’s contract, rolled around, though, I couldn’t ignore the dread pooling in my stomach. Not about the presentation. That, I could handle.
But saying goodbye to Hudson? How was I supposed to weather that?
As the last half hour before my rollout speech ticked away, I paced around our HQ in the bowels of the Javits Center, stewing over my presentation. The rest of the team was high aboveground; they were finishing up with the last of the rollout details.Clara was no doubt glad-handing with the likes of Mr. Ose, while the rest were handing out swag bags and checking that the AV elements of the talk were all ready to go.
I was alone. Until I wasn’t.
The sight of Hudson in the doorway robbed me of my breath.
I hadn’t been expecting him. Yet there he was. Looking handsome as ever…and heartbroken. The circles under his eyes told me I wasn’t alone in my postbreakup insomnia spell.
“Hey,” he said, weary but warm.
“Oh, hey.” I overcompensated for the awkwardness with a false friendliness. “How’s the crowd looking up there?”
“Very eager. The marketing department has the crowd in the palm of their hands.”
“Are you staying?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. My contract technically ended EOD yesterday and I do have a flight to catch right after, though, so…I think this might be goodbye.”
Goodbye.I’d never hated a word before. Words were neutral tools. But that word, wielded against me by Hudson…I discovered a new way to despise syllables.
Tell him you love him, you idiot, my brain told me.
He’s leaving. He wants to turn the page, I replied.I have to let him go.
“Right. Well. Thanks for staying. It’ll be good to look out and see you.”
“You don’t need me. You’ll knock ’em dead.”
“I hope so.”
His reply teemed with confidence. Like it was a foregone conclusion. Like I was foolish for thinking anything different. “How could they not love you?”
You didn’twas my first thought.
You didn’t love me enough to say itwas my second thought.
Okay, maybe you loved me enough to say it, but then you got scaredwas my third.
And thenI don’t really care about being loved by anyone but you.
