Saturday
I glanced at the time on my dashboard as I sat in the thick traffic of central Boston, the sound of Jamey’s tablet playing one of his shows and the ringing coming from my phone the only things on which I could focus. I stared at the screen as it continued to ring, Sophie’s name front and center on the top as the seconds ticked by. Pick up. Please pick up.
“What’s wrong?”
I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. “What? Why do you think something’s wrong?”
“Because it’s a Saturday and I’m off duty,” she said monotonously through my car speakers, almost as if she were annoyed that she picked up in the first place.
“Did you only answer because you thought it was an emergency?”
“Yes.”
“Are you busy?”
“Yes.”
“What are you doing?”
“Oh my god, Hudson, are you fu—”
I reached out, turning the volume right down before the word could come out. “Jamey is in earshot,” I said, turning the volume back up and moving half an inch forward in the stop-and-go traffic.
“Hi, Sophie!” He called from the backseat.
“Oh. Hi, Jamey,” she replied, her voice friendlier for him. “What do you want, Hudson? I’m trying to get some work done today.”
“We have a bit of a problem,” I sighed, flexing my fingers against the steering wheel. “My mom has decided that she wants to have dinner with us tonight to get to know you. She’s already annoyed that I haven’t introduced her to you yet so I kind of had to say yes.”
She groaned, and in the background, I heard the solid thud of what I could only assume was her head against her desk. “I’m really busy.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.” From the backseat, I heard the unmistakable sound of a virtual payment going through. I really needed to take that feature away from him before he drained my fortune dry with his purchases of in-game money. “I’ve ordered caterers. I’ll have them make anything you want.”
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
She sighed in frustration. “Fine. I want crab legs. I’ve been craving seafood.”
“Done. Be at my place before seven so she doesn’t ask questions,” I said, reaching for the little red button on my phone but stopping short. “Oh, and wear something you’ve made. She’ll like that. She’s very crafty.”
“Oh my god, goodbye, Hudson.”
————
I was convinced Sophie was actively trying to taunt me as she walked through my door, a scowl on her perfect face. Her makeup was flawless; her freckles shining through, her blue eyes popping from the muted colors on her lids, her lips a deep maroon, reminding me far too much of the wine stain from the first night I took her.
The ring on her finger shone brightly in the dim light, grabbing my attention and forcing it down Sophie’s body. The dress she wore was figure-hugging, showing off every flawless curve of her body. The top was corseted, structured in all the right ways, and the see-through fabric of the puffed long sleeves brought her entire look together. It was a maddening outfit—one my mother would love when she found out Sophie had made it, and one that would keep my eyes glued to her all goddamn night long.
“Don’t stare at me like that,” she grumbled.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m a piece of meat.” Her eyes met mine, her lined lips going flat.
My phone buzzed in the pocket of my neatly pressed slacks. I fished it out, a text from my mom filling the screen. She was five minutes away. “Shit, she’s close. Okay, uh, Jamey?”
He rounded the corner of the living room quickly, his shoes clacking against the floor with each little stomp. “What? Oh, hi Sophie!”
“Hi, Jamey.”
“Listen to me,” I said, lowering myself to his level. I’d dressed him up enough to set the mood, but not too much that he would complain all evening. He was wearing a nice set of black pants with a white button-up top and his nicest shoes, which he’d already fussed about because he had to wear them in the house. Dammit, what is that red spot on his shirt? How did he already stain it? “Grandma is coming over. We’re going to have dinner.”
“I know,” he groaned, flopping around dramatically as if I were boring him to death.
“We’re playing the game tonight. The one where Sophie and I are engaged. You have to play along, okay? And you have to remember that it’s just a game.”
He nodded. “Engaged means getting married.”
Sophie sighed as she glanced out the window, her heeled foot tapping nervously against the wood floor. “Hudson, there’s headlights in the driveway.”
“Yes, engaged means getting married. But it’s a game. It’s not real. Got it?”
“Got it, Daddy.”
We can do this.
————
“So, Sophie, you’re a designer?”
Sophie sat upright, her mouth full of the inside of a crab leg. She covered her lips as she swallowed, nodding. “Yeah. I made this dress, actually.”
My mom grinned as she cracked a leg over her plate. She’d worn one of her nicer dresses, one I’d seen once before at the funeral of one of her coworkers. Her unnaturally blonde hair was tucked neatly up in a bun, her makeup sitting heavily over her Botox-filled face. A man in a suit and tie filled her glass of wine from behind her, and she turned and thanked him before looking back over at Sophie. “That’s amazing. I’ve heard bits and pieces from your mom, but I had no idea how good you were.”
She chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah, you know how she is.”
Sophie had been fairly quiet thus far, and although I figured it was because of the nerves and the worry that Jamey would say something to ruin it all, it seemed like it was more than that. We’d been short with each other for days now, hardly having any kind of meaningful conversation, and I wondered if she was finding this difficult to navigate because of our conversation the other night. In fairness, I’d been off because of it, too.
“I just can’t believe Hudson didn’t tell me about you,” my mom laughed. She dipped a solid chunk of crab into a bowl of melted butter before shoving it in her mouth. “Though, to be fair, the last woman he told me about was Rebecca, and we all know how that ended.”
The crab leg in my hand shattered. “Can we please not talk about Becks?” Not only is it fucking awkward to bring up in front of Jamey, but it’s also rude as shit in front of Sophie.
But it isn’t real.
“Of course, honey. I’m sorry.” My mom turned to Jamey as she cracked another leg, fishing out the flesh with a tiny fork. “How do you feel about all this, Jamey?”
I bit my tongue, and when I glanced at Sophie, I could tell she was watching him like a hawk. “I love that my daddy is engaged.” He chirped as he picked at his chicken nuggets. “I think it’s amazing that he’s going to be married.”
Jesus fucking Christ kid, this isn’t a vocabulary test.
“Do you like Sophie?”
“I love Sophie,” he grinned. “But she’s not going to be my new mommy.”
The chair beneath Sophie squeaked as she pushed herself back. She dabbed at her mouth with her napkin, standing on shaky legs. “I’m sorry, I’ll be right back.”
————
“I like her.”
I sighed as I poured out a fourth glass of wine for my mother, more than a little relieved that her driver would be the one taking her home. The catering team had packed up and left, leaving the four of us alone, and thankfully, Sophie was more than happy to play with Jamey in the other room while I spoke to my mom. “I do too,” I chuckled, hoping she didn’t pick up on the tension.
“I think she’s really good for you. She’s obviously great with Jamey, too. I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me, honey. You know I’d have supported you even if it went sour.”
“I know,” I sighed, holding out the glass of wine for her. She plucked it from my fingers within a second. “We just wanted to keep it quiet until we knew we were serious. We didn’t even tell Jamey we were together until a few weeks ago. I just didn’t want to get his hopes up.”
I knew she’d come to terms with it. I also knew that when the time came that Sophie and I had to fake a breakup, she’d be okay with that, too. She’d been there through the thick and thin, the highs and lows of my relationship with Becks. She could handle this.
I just hated lying to her.
It made me happier than it should have to know that she liked Sophie, though. It shouldn’t have mattered whether she did or not—it would become pointless when it eventually ended, but it felt good knowing that she’d approve if Sophie and I had met under different circumstances. If only I was capable of letting someone new in and she wanted to be with me. But she didn’t. And that was fine. Totally fine.
————
Sophie stood in the doorway, her back to me as she waved at my mom’s car backing down the driveway. She watched with eagle eyes trained on it until it disappeared around the corner, headlights far from view, then took one step off the frame and onto the porch.
I reached out instinctively, my hand wrapping around the small base of her wrist. She turned, the little ringlets of her hair flying about her face. “Hey,” I said softly, pulling her back to the doorway and off of the front mat. “Are you okay? You seem… distant.”
“I’m fine, Hudson,” she sighed, turning her head back toward her condo. She didn’t want to look at me, but fuck, all I wanted to do was look at her in that dress. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t seem fine.”
“Well, I am. And I’d like to go home.” She tugged once on my hold, and I released her, but I didn’t want to let her leave. I’d had two glasses of wine, I was more than loose enough to have a decent conversation with her, and if I was being truly honest, I wanted to keep looking at her.
“Jamey asked me if you’d read him a bedtime story,” I lied. “Will you stay? Just for a few?”
She looked at me again, some sense of inner conflict thinly veiled on her features. “Okay,” she sighed, taking a step back inside. “I’ll read him a story. Then I’m going home.”
The time passed way too quickly. Although Jamey hadn’t actually requested it, he was more than happy to have Sophie helping with bedtime. I stood in the doorway of his room, the little glow-in-the-dark stars lighting the space so perfectly as Sophie sat on his bed, his favorite book tucked neatly in her hands. It only took him a few pages to fall asleep, and I prayed she wouldn’t notice, that she’d keep reading, extending this stupid fucking lie of a moment as long as possible.
But of course, I can’t have everything I want.
Sophie closed the door behind her as she walked out of his room, and instead of focusing on the way my son took to her so easily or how quickly he’d fallen asleep to the sound of her voice, all I could do was think about how much I wanted her beneath me. That little part of me that was animalistic, that wanted to take, take, take and fuck the consequences, was nibbling a little too hard at my mind. Her dress and her lips weren’t helping.
I walked with her down the hall as she aimed for the stairs, my mind swimming, and before I could take a moment to think about it, I sprung.
She gasped as I placed myself between her and the stairs, forcing her backward, further and further until her spine hit the wall. “What the fuck—”
“I was wrong,” I said. Placing my hands on either side of her head, I caged her in. The perfume she wore flooded my senses, scrambling my brain even more, the thoughts of being close enough to her that I could smell it on every inch of her bare skin flooding my mind. “We can make it work.”
“What?” She breathed, the little wave of hair that had fallen in her face jumping from the puff of air.
“It was a bad idea, breaking it off like that. Clearly, neither of us is happy with it. Am I right?” I challenged, leaning in just an inch further, her parted lips within reaching distance.
She hesitated before she answered me, her eyes searching mine for answers, her chest rising and falling too quickly, too unevenly. “Just because we’re not happy with it doesn’t mean it’s a bad idea.”
I took her face in my hand, stroking across the streak of freckles beneath her eye, and she turned her head into it. “Let me make you think it is, Sophie,” I whispered, and the distance between my lips and hers felt too far. I couldn’t fucking help myself—I needed to taste her, to have her, to take her again. I knew it was a bad idea. I knew I’d just keep coming back for more and more. I just didn’t fucking care.
I pressed my lips to the corner of her mouth, just enough to satiate me for the moment she needed to make a decision. I’d honor her choice, whatever it was, but I’d be fucking disappointed if she made the wrong one.
“Let’s keep the game going,” I continued. “I’ll pretend to be yours. You pretend to be mine. Let me fuck you with that ring on, angel.”
Her breath faltered as I moved my hand to the back of her neck, my fingers splaying out into her hair. Goddammit, Hudson,” she whimpered, her head turning just a fraction, her lips pressing firmly against mine.
