“I said things I shouldn’t have. Accused her of things she hadn’t done. I still regret those words.” He looks at me. “But you know, the mark of a man isn’t that he doesn’t fuckup. It’s what he does afterward. How he tries to make things better.”
Well that hit too close to the mark. “And how do you do that?” I ask him. Because right now I think Sadie’s probably stabbing pins into a doll of me.
Hudson shrugs. “I guess you show it. There are times when the only way to let somebody know how sorry you are is to model it. To let go of the control and let them take the lead. I met Skyler where she needed me to meet her. Kept being there. Kept showing I care. Eventually she started to believe me.”
I let out a long breath. He means well. And I’m so damn happy he kept working on things. But Sadie isn’t Skyler. I’m not in love with her. I just… find her attractive. I like her, even though she hates me.
And right now, I think meeting her where she needs me might mean disappearing altogether.
“I need to resign from the Art Committee,” I say.
Hudson blinks at my abrupt turn in conversation.
“I’m busy and it’s taking up too much of my time. Sadie’s got it handled. She’s all set to go.”
“Are you leaving Liberty sooner than planned?” he asks, his voice thick.
“No.” I shake my head, not wanting to think about why I’m staying. Or what I need to tell them. “I just want to concentrate on other things.”
He runs his thumb along his jaw. “Does this have something to do with Sadie? I know you two started off on a bad note.”
I shake my head again. “Not at all. She’s good. She’s fine.” And I think she hates me. “Listen, I have to go. I have a call in an hour. Thanks for the walk. It’s been good to chat.”
Hudson studies me for a moment. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m always okay.” It’s the easiest lie I know.
He doesn’t call me on it, just gives a slow nod. “Then I’ll see you later.”
When he walks away, the quiet rushes back in. The world feels too still.
I turn toward the dock, the wind picking up and carrying the sharp scent of salt and seaweed. Gulls cry overhead, and somewhere down the beach a boat horn sounds.
I’ll call Autumn later. Tell her the committee doesn’t need me. It’s the least I can do. And then I’ll figure out how to make it up to the pretty bookseller whose face keeps me up at night.
Because not talking to her ever again isn’t something I can contemplate right now.
It’s after midnight when I finally head to bed. First, I had to deal with Larry’s meltdown because he had an asshole customer who sent him spiralling, then with Autumn, who threw a fit because I want to resign from the committee.
But finally, I’m alone in my bedroom, my reading glasses on,Jane Eyreopen between my hands, and one thought hits me fast.
Edward Rochester is a grade A asshole.
Seriously, he treats Jane like she’s a piece of crap. He’s careless and unkind and she doesn’t deserve any of it.
And Romy thinks this is my book? She thinks this is how I behave? I don’t like that one little bit.
When I get to the end of the chapter I sigh and put it onthe bedside table, trying not to think of the day when I’ll find reading a book impossible. But as I lay it down, I see the other book there. Staring up at me like I’m a bigger asshole than Rochester.
The one I stole from Sadie.
I pick it up, and make a decision. I know I need to return it. And for some reason, I decide the right time is now. Getting out of bed, I grab a piece of paper and scribble an apology, then slide it and the book inside a large envelope.
It takes me less than five minutes to pull on my clothes, grab my keys, and head out of the apartment to my car.
The streets are empty. I like the way I don’t see another living soul as I follow the lanes to Main Street, my only company the slow soulful voice of Bon Iver. Because apparently I’ve gone full-emo now.
When I reach the shop, I slide the envelope through the letterbox, hearing it hit the floor inside with a clunk. And I picture her in the morning, picking it up, knowing I was here.
