Monday
There was a reason I lived in Boston and not within the crowded, hectic streets of New York City, Manhattan, to be specific. My family had plenty of ties here, and a couple of my uncles lived amongst the high-rises overlooking Central Park. My parents had even suggested I move here after I’d finished up at Harvard.
But I fucking hated the big city life.
I loved the suburbs of Boston. It was calmer, close enough to still be connected to the hustle-and-bustle of the center but far enough away that I could pretend I wasn’t near the city when I wanted to. Manhattan didn’t really come with that option, and as I made my way through the crowds on Seventh Avenue, my shoulders bumping against strangers with cameras around their necks and maps in hand, that was never more obvious. I didn’t want to be here.
I wanted to be back in Boston. I wanted to be with her.
I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Sophie since I left early this morning. I hadn’t known what to write to her; I’d tried to piece something together in my mind as I frantically searched her condo for a scrap of paper and pen, settling for a sharpie and a page from her sketchbook. I didn’t know how to write what was going through my mind, because none of it made sense. I knew I felt bad for having to leave. The idea of her waking up alone after last night had sat heavy in my gut as I stared at the empty page for too long in the dark of her kitchen. I wanted to tell her everything, wanted to have said it last night, but the words felt hollow every time I tried to write them down. It wouldn’t have been enough.
The short four hours I’d slept had been some of the best sleep I’d had in years, since well before Jamey was born, and I didn’t know exactly how to feel about that. I’d never felt that comfortable in someone else’s bed. Not even Becks.
It wasn’t just sex, either, and that became apparent when I was holding her face in my hands as I was buried inside of her, her wide eyes watching mine, a thousand words left unsaid between us hanging in the air. But it really sunk in as I was thirty-six-thousand feet above the ground, my phone no longer interesting enough to keep me distracted, my gaze fixed solely on the clouds stretching out of my first-class window. It definitely wasn’t just sex anymore. It went beyond that, beyond anything I’d ever had with anyone before. We’d made love, formed a connection that seemed unbreakable.
And all I wanted to do as I walked through the doors of the AMA Conference Center in Times Square was turn right the fuck around.
————
As I stood at a high-top cocktail table, a martini glass of pale shrimp and red sauce serving as the centerpiece, I watched Nathan’s mouth move a mile a minute but didn’t hear a single word he said. The sound of everyone else talking, the noise filtering in from a speech in the next room, the low music playing in the background… it was too much. I was never a fan of this shit. I only came because I was expected to, because networking was important, because being invited in the first place was seen as a success within my field.
“Are you even listening?” The words were louder, and they cut straight through the muffled sounds that filled my ears.
“Oh, uh,” I started, picking up a shrimp and dipping it into the sauce, “it’s kind of hard to hear in here.”
“It really isn’t.” Nathan glared at me, his deep brown eyes nearly boring a hole in my head. “What the fuck is going on with you, man?”
I bit off the body of the shrimp, dropping the tail in the receptacle behind me. “Nothing,” I said, the word garbled from the food in my mouth. “Everything is just fine.”
“We’ve been to, what, three speeches so far? And every single one of them, you’ve been staring at the back of the head of the person in front of you. You’re not with it.”
I rolled my eyes as I reached for another shrimp, but Nathan moved the cocktail glass away from my greedy hands. “Am I not allowed to find the back of someone’s head interesting?” I drawled, rolling my eyes at him.
“More interesting than a new development in ultrasound tech? No, you’re not.”
Shit, is that what the last one had been about? That would have been something I should have paid attention to. “What are you trying to say, Nate?”
“I’m saying you haven’t told me what the fuck has happened between you and Sophie and… don’t give me that look. It’s so obvious, Hudson.”
I steeled my jaw as I reached for the shrimp again, wrestling the glass out of his hand. “Nothing. Nothing’s happened.” I popped another into my mouth, desperately searching for a distraction.
“What happened when you told her how you felt?”
“I didn’t,” I grumbled. “We fucked last night. Are you happy now? You know you don’t need to know every single thing that happens with my cock, right?”
Nathan blinked at me, his brows furrowed, his eyes wide. “Wait, what? You slept with her again and you still haven’t told her?”
“No, I haven’t.”
Nathan scoffed as he took a step back from the table, his deep brown hair shifting about his face as he shook his head. “Jesus, Huds. You’re a fucking idiot.” He pursed his lips as he stared at me, opening and closing his mouth as if he had something he needed to say but couldn’t quite find the words.
If he took much longer, I was going to go to the next speech without him.
“You realize you’re going to ruin any chance you have with her, right?” He spat. “You can’t just keep having sex with the poor thing and leading her on without giving her anything in return. You like her. You know there’s something between you two, and if she’s put up with you for this long, she must have some kind of feelings for you too. You’re dragging her along.”
His words felt like an attack, highlighting every issue I was already aware of yet desperately trying to force to the back of my mind. “It’s not like she’s said anything to me about how she feels.”
“That doesn’t fucking matter anymore, man. That’s not good enough. She’s pregnant with your kid. You and I know better than most how much hormones can fuck you up in that first trimester. You can’t rely on her to make that move.”
I knew he was right, but every part of me wanted to tell him that he was wrong, that he was making assumptions he shouldn’t be, but I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t give the words life, not when I knew deep down that I was the one being stupid.
I should have told her last night. I shouldn’t have waited this long.
————
By the time I’d managed to get checked in to my penthouse and out of the hustle and bustle of the streets, I was exhausted. I needed a shower, I needed sleep. The four hours I’d had, although incredible, weren’t enough to keep me going in a place like New York.
My suite at the Chatwal was more luxurious than I needed. The amenities, the butler, the living space… I didn’t want any of it. What I wanted was to be at a certain condo in the suburbs of Boston.
I needed to call her. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her and what Nathan had said for the rest of the day. Instead of staring at the back of someone’s head and imagining Sophie naked in my arms, Sophie kissing me, Sophie asleep against my chest, I’d been imagining Sophie leaving. Sophie turning me down when I eventually worked up the nerve. Sophie running away, just like Becks had.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I opened the glass doors that lead out onto the balcony, regretting it the moment the door unlatched and the loud sounds of the city filled my ears. Honking car horns, blaring sirens, shouting, a plane overhead. It was too much, too loud, but I needed the somewhat-fresh air if I was going to do this.
My thumb hesitated as it lingered over Sophie’s name. I didn’t know what I was going to say, but I knew damn well that if I took ten minutes to try and come up with something rather than speaking organically, I’d lose the nerve.
I pressed her name.
It rang six times before the dreaded message: The person you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please leave your message after the tone.
I hung up.
