Saturday
Even though I knew exactly who was walking up to my house, I didn’t dread seeing him. I’d spent the entirety of the last couple of days hating myself for what I’d said, what I’d implied.
I was on my feet and away from my laptop before the doorbell even rang.
Hudson’s face was stern as I opened the door, all hard, flexed muscles. But I could tell by his eyes that he wasn’t upset with me. There was something else there, something more like regret, remorse. “Hey,” I said.
“Hey.”
“You can come in.” I stepped to the side, opening the door wider for him to come through, and watched every piece of him as he entered my house for the second time this week.
“I know you’re still mad at me, but—”
“I’m not,” I said, closing the door behind him. He stood a little too close, a little too tall. I must have looked tiny in my pajama shorts and tank top next to him. “I’m sorry about the other day. I was just so frustrated with everything and I took it out on you. I’ve calmed down considerably since.”
His brows raised as he looked down at me. “I’m sorry too. Can we have a real talk this time instead of getting mad at each other?”
I chuckled. “Yeah, we can try.” I stepped around him, crossing the open plan space into the living room and plopping down on the sofa. “There’s some wine in the fridge if you want it. Someone should drink it before it goes bad.”
I watched as he made himself at home, opening and closing cupboards until he found my stash of wine glasses before pouring himself a full glass worth. He glanced at my laptop, at the designs I had loaded up and the patterns I was digitally designing, nonchalantly sipping his wine.
“Please don’t spill wine on my computer,” I joked, hoping to cut the small amount of awkward tension.
“If I did it would only be payback for you spilling wine on my shirt and my couch.” He leaned forward over the screen, using two fingers to scroll along the trackpad. “These are amazing. Your designs. I should have told you sooner.”
I felt the heat warm my cheeks as I looked away from him, the little balls of lint on my sofa suddenly far more interesting. “Thanks.” I didn’t want to admit that it made my stomach twist to get a compliment from him, and it definitely wasn’t just because of the bout of nausea I was currently wading through thanks to the little one inside of me.
I felt the vibrations of his feet against the floor, only spotting him once he came into my peripheral vision. His buttoned-up white shirt and the casual slacks he wore made that twisting in my gut a little bit worse. “Right.” He came around the couch, the glass of wine in his hand steady as he sat down on the opposite end. “I’m willing to go all in if you’re prepared for that.”
All in? What the fuck did that mean? “I’m already all in.”
“I mean I’m ready to be a parent again. I’m all in on this. I want to be in my, I mean, our child’s life if you’re okay with that.”
I watched as he sipped his wine, his eyes tentatively glancing between me and the glass in his hand. I wasn’t used to seeing him like this—vulnerable, hesitant. Despite our argument the other night, he didn’t need to be worried. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, about what my life was going to look like now, about how stressful but how much easier it would be raising this child with someone else. Hudson was a good dad. I knew that.
“Sophie? Can you say something?”
“Sorry,” I mumbled. I pulled my legs up to my chest, my lip caught between my teeth. “I want you to be involved. I didn’t mean what I said the other day, and I’m sorry about it.” I glanced at him, noting the sigh of relief that flooded from his chest. “I want to figure this out. All of it.”
His head leaned back, settling on the hardwood of the back of my couch, his eyes closed and Adam’s apple bobbing. It made that spot in my chest ache again, the fire in my gut spread.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he mumbled as he peeked at me out of the corner of his eye. “Just relieved. Not that I thought you meant all of it, but there was a chance you did. And that chance honestly had me terrified.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. I’d done wrong, I knew that. I knew I’d lashed out. I still felt bad about it, no matter how many times I would inevitably apologize. But still, from the way he looked at me, the way he sat, the way he nearly choked on relief made it feel like there was more. And that ‘more,’ if it existed, could be dangerous.
“I’m happy to continue with the fake engagement if you are,” he said, rolling his head to the side and resting it against the soft cushion.
I nodded. “Yeah, that would be ideal. I don’t think my parents would be too pleased if I told them I was continuing with a pregnancy when my fiancé and I broke up just after conception,” I chuckled.
“How very secular of them,” he sneered, and I glared in response.
“Be nice. It wouldn’t end well for you either, not with my mom knowing yours.”
He cracked a smile, a small one, but I caught it, nonetheless. “I think mine would kill me if she found out I wasn’t helping raise a child that I helped create, so you’re not wrong. Really, I should be thanking you for saving my life.”
“You should.”
He lifted his head, draining his wine before placing the empty glass onto the coffee table. “Thank you.” He leaned toward me, just an inch, his posture relaxing further. “What do we do after the baby is born, though?”
I bit my lip, averting my gaze to hide the sudden uneasiness in my gut. I’d tried not to think that far ahead—every time my mind had wandered in that direction, it seemed to spiral, to sink below the depths and make me fully fucking panic. We couldn’t get married, I knew that much. I didn’t want an eventual divorce, not when I’d be doing damage to the child growing inside me and Jamey as well. We could put off the wedding, blaming the stress of pregnancy and then the stress of the baby, but I didn’t want to be in a perpetual, endless fake relationship. At least not with someone I didn’t have feelings for.
And I definitely did not have feelings for Hudson. I couldn’t, I wouldn’t. I was attracted to him, sure, and the sex was incredible. But I wasn’t about to go having feelings for someone who wasn’t willing nor appeared even capable of having feelings for me in return. I’d been down that road too many times. I knew how it ended.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’ve tried not to think that far ahead.”
He nodded in response to my answer. “Got it. Well, I’ll do some thinking, see if I can come up with any solutions. Okay?”
“Okay.”
I watched the way his pupils dilated as he stared at me, the way his eyes glanced across my features, the way his mouth parted as if he had more to say. There was a part of me that wanted to believe that somewhere inside of him, Hudson cared for me at least a little bit. I knew I was fond of him, maybe a little too much. But I was being cautious in allowing myself to feel anything in the first place. I definitely wasn’t going to put myself out there expecting to hear words I knew didn’t really exist.
This was far too complicated for my pregnancy-brain.
“Do you want to go get dinner?” He asked, the veil of stoicism falling back over him, extinguishing any lingering hope that remained. “I’ll buy.”
I smiled lightly at him as I tugged at the side of my shorts. “Not really dressed for it.”
“I can wait. Jamey’s with my mom tonight, so I have all evening.”
“That’s really nice of you, but honestly, I’m exhausted. I was going to get a bit more work done and then hit the hay. A rain check maybe?”
The edges of his lips drew down, the hallmark of disappointment, but he blinked it away. “That’s fine, no worries. You really should eat something though,” he insisted, pushing himself up from the sofa and grabbing his empty glass. “I’ll order you takeout. Pizza okay?”
“Hudson—”
“It’s fine, I don’t mind. I’m going home anyway so you won’t have to deal with me,” he chuckled.
“I…”
“You like pepperoni, right? I’ll order from the place I got it last time. Shouldn’t be too long.”
I watched him like a hawk as he walked toward the kitchen, placing his glass directly into the dishwasher. God fucking dammit, why did he have to have such good manners, too? Other than barging into my house uninvited. “Okay,” I relented.
He grinned at me from across the room, the kitchen counter dividing us. “Do you want to watch Jamey again? I could really use your help this week.”
Now that was something I could be enthusiastically happy about. “Absolutely. I missed the little squirt.”
