Once they’re settled, he helps me climb in, a feat in this dress, and waits until we’re all buckled to start the engine. Noah Kahan plays on the radio as we ease onto the main highway. The drive into town is idyllic. Long stretches of quiet roads, baby-blue skies, and actual tumbleweed blowing across the deserted streets. Hudson’s hand burns against my thigh. Every few miles, I catch him smiling to himself.
Being here, with him, invokes a sense of belonging I hadn’t known I was missing. Even when things between Phoebe and I were at our best, I always felt as if I needed to keep parts of myself hidden for fear of rejection. But Hudson never makes me feel as if I need to be anyone other than myself. He never judged me when I sang out of tune on karaoke nights or mixed my metals on my fingers. He didn’t care that I let my curls stay unruly or had asecond helping of chicken wings. And he is the only person who brought me back from my grief, even if he had no idea I let a piece of myself go.
“I can’t believe the sunsets are so late here,” Vanessa says, the sky barely melting into a haze of pink and purple.
“I like it,” Adrian replies, scooting forward in his seat to be heard over the wind. “I feel like I’m actually taking advantage of the entire day.”
“Because you’re normally in bed with a book by now,” Vanessa argues.
“It’s how I decompress.”
I breathe in the crisp Wyoming air. This is one of those memories I wish I could bottle, to open on rainy days, and then I remember that I can preserve it another way.
Reaching down, I unzip my camera bag, removing the smaller of the two bodies and attaching the wide-angle lens. Bringing the viewfinder up to my eyes, I take the photo. The background is a bit blurry, Hudson’s smile a little off-center, his arm cut off on the frame as it reaches once more for my thigh. But it’s perfect.
I’m about to put my camera away when I see movement against the horizon. Massive, dark brown behemoths, gliding across the grassy fields. “Are those—?”
“Buffalo,” Vanessa says, as we all turn to look.
“Bison actually,” Hudson corrects.
“But they are basically the same thing though?” Adrian asks.
“Buffalo tend to live in warmer climates, while bison have thicker fur which allows them to survive the harsh winters,” Hudson explains.
“Can you pull over?” I ask, moving my viewfinder to my eye to find the perfect frame.
Hudson eases the car onto the shoulder. I unbuckle and stand up on my seat, holding the roll bars of the Jeep.
I’m in no danger of falling, but I don’t mind the way Hudson keeps a hand on the back of my calf, keeping me steady.
The animals move in a herd, the littlest lagging behind as I wait for the shot. I wait until there’s equal distance between them, the animals taking up the entirety of the frame before I click the shutter. I check the image on the back of the LCD screen when I catch Hudson staring at me.
“I can’t wait to see that one,” he beams.
And for the first time since Phoebe’s wedding, I’m actually excited to be holding my camera.
28 Hudson
“This is definitely an upgrade from the Majestic,” Mira says when we pull into the Deerview Lodge and Spa, a valet waving us forward. The sprawling four-story building resembles a castle, with a stone facade and gas lanterns lining the walkway. Lush shrubbery and colorful flowers create a protective barrier between the parking lot and guests sipping cocktails on the patio.
“Your mom must have thrown serious money at this event, last minute and all,” Vanessa says, stepping onto the stone path.
“Probably not more than a single dividend check, since George boasts how he bought Microsoft stock before the internet was even a thing,” I say, regurgitating the anecdote my stepfather shares anytime someone asks how he amassed his fortune. As if being born into generational wealth and having a financial advisor in high school didn’t help.
Relinquishing my keys to the valet, I make my way over to help Mira. After watching her struggle to get in the car earlier, I can only imagine how difficult it must be to get out in that dress.
“Here, let me,” I say, offering her my hand.
She’s windblown, with pink cheeks. Paired with the shimmery powder on her shoulders and the golden dress that’s gathered around her curves, she looks as if she just stepped out of a Renaissance painting, one where a knight might be kneeling infront of his maiden. And I would lie down at her feet right now, in front of everyone, if she asked.
I don’t realize how long I’ve been staring at her until Vanessa’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “You guys coming?”
“In a minute,” I reply, watching the fabric slide down her bare legs. I never thought I could be jealous of fabric and yet, here I am, wishing I could be the thing wrapped around her. I wait until Adrian and Vanessa are a few paces ahead of us before I guide her back towards the vine-covered banister, my hands tangling in her hair, pressing my lips to hers.
“Stop,” she breathes, her hand pressing hard against my shoulder, and I freeze.
“Did I do something wrong?” I ask, hoping I haven’t overstepped.
