Wednesday
The woman taking up the entirety of my screen, with her thick black hair and her rosy-red cheeks was nice enough, I’d give her that. But even as she spoke of her extensive experience with her younger siblings and her string of babysitting gigs throughout her teenage years, she didn’t grab me.
Not like Sophie.
This was the third interview I’d done between appointments, and during every single one, I’d found my thoughts spiraling back to her. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d fawned over a woman like I was with Sophie—not even my ex-wife. It had been easy with Becks, natural, but there’d never been that intense pull, that keep-me-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night ache. It was beginning to freak me out. I’d told myself over and over for the last two years that I didn’t want another relationship, that I didn’t need love to be happy. I could fuck and date and have fun and that was all I needed. But Jamey was getting older, was starting to realize that he didn’t have something most other people did, and I knew it would break my heart worse than Becks did when Jamey eventually asked me why he didn’t have a mom. I dreaded that day.
“Dr. Brady?”
Shit. I blinked away the thoughts, refocusing on the screen of my laptop, and a very confused… what was her name? Emily? staring back at me. I scrubbed my face with my hands, trying to chase away any lingering thoughts so I could focus. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked how soon you would need me,” she deadpanned. There was an air of impatience in her tone, and immediately, that told me everything I needed to know. I required someone patient, someone kind, who could handle my toddler and more importantly, me.
Someone like Sophie. Oh my god, I had to stop. Sophie was less patient with me than Emily, but that only excited me more. “Uh, if I were to hire you, I’d need an immediate start. Would that be something you could do?”
The video feed stuttered, pixelating her face for a moment, but her words came through clearly. “Oh, I’m going on vacation this weekend. I won’t be back until next Friday.”
I held my phone between my thumb and middle finger, spinning it around as I tapped it against the particleboard desk. “Unfortunately, Emily, I don’t think that’ll work.”
The video feed sputtered back to life. She looked annoyed, with her thin, dark brows furrowed and her eyes squinted. “My name is Olivia.” God dammit. “And you should really include the timeframe in your job posting so we don’t both waste our time.”
I sucked my teeth, forcing the annoyed words I wanted to say to stay behind my lips. This was going nowhere. “I did,” I quipped. You should have read the fucking requirements. I shut the laptop, effectively ending the call, and rolled my desk chair back, needing to get myself away from the failed interview. I just couldn’t deal with it anymore today—it was going to drive me insane, especially if I couldn’t stop thinking about Sophie.
————
“Honey. I love you, but you can’t just spring things on me.”
I gnawed on the flesh of my cheek, my scrubs feeling too tight against my skin. Her voice sounded patient, kind, but so frustrated over the crackle of my cell phone. I wondered if Jamey had been a handful today. “I know, Mom,” I sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s a last-minute thing. I should only be an hour late at most.” I hated lying to her. Genuinely. Even when I was a kid, I had a hard time keeping secrets to myself.
“It’s fine. Just try to give me a heads-up a little earlier next time, okay? You know I love watching Jamey, but I’ve got to get home and pack.”
“I know. I’ll try to get out as quickly as I can.” Another lie, and my palms became sweaty. I wiped them on the blue fabric covering my legs.
“Okay. Love you, Honey.”
“Love you too.”
I hung up the call and grabbed my bag from under my desk. Making my way down the hall and out the front door, I shoved away the thoughts of nannies, my mom, and Sophie. I needed good ol’ Hudson and Nathan time, a nice glass of whiskey, and a silent mind. I figured I’d only get two of those, though.
I’d sent him a text an hour ago, asking if he was free for a drink after work, about two minutes after hanging up the call with the last interviewee. I needed to unwind, and I had a distinct feeling that if I tried to at home, even after Jamey went to bed, I’d just find myself in front of Sophie’s house.
That on its own was enough to send me into madness.
The drive to the bar was surprisingly quick despite the traffic, and as I parked my Mercedes, the buzz of seeing Nathan hit me. It had been at least a month, if not more. I didn’t see him nearly enough, and Jamey always asked about him. We’d gone to university together, both studying medicine and the female anatomy—he’d ended up as a gynecologist.
His big-ass head was easy to spot as I walked inside the bar. His familiar caramel skin wrinkled with a smile as I stepped up to the bar, settling myself on the barstool next to him. Eyes as bright as Sophie’s, and just as blue, met mine.
“Hey, man,” he grinned, his left hand patting the space between my shoulder blades. “Long time, no see.”
I gave him a half smile as I rattled off my order to the bartender: Lagavulin, neat, two fingers. “I know. I almost feel bad asking to meet up, though. I’ve got some shit going on and good god, do I need to talk about it,” I laughed. “But, more importantly, how’s Izabel? The girls?”
“Yeah, yeah, good, man. Iz just got a promotion at work, so that’s exciting. Devin’s entering the school’s talent show this year, so it’s been non-stop practice with her singing some Taylor Swift song every second of every hour. I’ve invested in a pair of really nice noise-canceling headphones.” He knocked back a shot before requesting another, and I hoped he didn’t think this was going to be a get-wasted-and-forget-our-problems kind of evening. “And Caroline is finally out of diapers, thank God.”
“I completely understand that struggle,” I chuckled. I took a heavy sip of the fiery alcohol, coating my throat enough to push the thought of Sophie’s pretty lips to the side. “Jamey was still wearing pull-ups at night until he was two and a half. I’m so happy that I never have to look at another diaper again.”
The slow, easy jazz playing over the speakers, mixed with the drink in my hand, was enough to relax the tension in my shoulders, my neck. I hadn’t even realized how much I’d been straining them, and I knew damn well I would feel it when I worked out next. I rolled my head to the side, forcing a crack from my spine.
“So what’s going on with you, Huds? What’s driving you so insane that you needed to see me?”
I groaned and scrubbed my face with my hands, trying to figure out where to even start. I needed to talk about all of it—from the fake engagement to finding Jamey a nanny—and deep down I knew I needed to talk about how I couldn’t get Sophie out of my fucking head.
————
Nathan’s silence hung in the air like a goddamn storm cloud.
I gritted my teeth as I lifted the nearly-finished glass of whiskey to my lips. I knew what was coming. “Just say it, Nathan.”
“Have you considered…”
“Yes,” I interjected.
“…that you might…”
I swallowed, letting the burn soothe my spiraling thoughts.
“…like her?”
There it is. “Absolutely not.” I set my glass down, my grip on it far too tight, almost dangerously so. I didn’t want to consider that, but of course, I had. It had been floating around in my head for days now, always there, hiding in the recesses of my mind and poking me with a fucking stick.
“Look, I know that’s not the kind of thing you want. I know that thinking of anyone like that after Becks is difficult for you—”
“Don’t.” I sucked in a breath through my teeth, wishing I hadn’t finished my drink so quickly. “It’s not even an option.”
“Maybe playing house with the girl isn’t such a bad idea. Maybe it’ll help you get over some of that pent-up anger over Becks. Don’t close yourself off, Huds.”
Dragging my tongue along my incisors, I slid the glass across the bar toward the bartender. He lifted it toward the shelf, offering me a refill, but I shook my head, making the move to get up. I had to get home. I had to relieve my mom, I had to see my son, and I had to talk to Sophie. Wait, where did that come from?
“Hudson—”
I turned to Nathan, a tight smile across my lips. “Thanks for the advice, really. But I’ve been closed off for years now, and I don’t expect that to change anytime soon.”
————
The sky was already pitch-black by the time I pulled up my driveway. My headlights illuminated Sophie’s condo, casting beams of light straight into her lit living room, creating shadows that gave her presence away.
Even though I knew my mom had seen me arrive, even though I knew Jamey would be bouncing in excitement because I was home, I couldn’t bring myself to walk to my door. I didn’t even realize what I had done until the car door shut behind me and I was halfway across my lawn, my sights set on Sophie’s door, that gnawing sensation in my brain gaining control of me.
Before I could blink, I was on her porch, hand raised and ready to knock, hovering an inch from her door. What the fuck am I doing? I should go home. I shouldn’t be here. Soft footsteps echoed behind the door and I froze, unable to back away.
The handle twisted and I dropped my arm. I hadn’t even knocked yet, had she been watching me?
Sophie’s face was backlit as she pulled the door open just enough for her head. Even in the low light, her eyes shone like fucking diamonds. “What are you doing here, Dr. Brady?”
A lump caught in my throat at the sound of her voice. So goddamn perfect. “It’s Hudson. And I just wanted to check in with you.”
“I haven’t made any decisions yet, and I’m kind of busy right now.”
My lips tipped up at the edge. Caught. “Busy?”
Her gaze hardened as she looked me up and down. “Yes. Busy.”
“Doing what, exactly?” I pressed, taking a step toward the door. She backed up, making a move to shut it, but I slid my foot between the door and the frame, stopping that action dead in its tracks.
“Dr. Brady,” she hissed.
“It sure seemed like you weren’t busy when you came to the door,” I continued, leaning one hand on the handle. “I didn’t even knock, Sophie. Were you watching me? Again?”
The blush that spread across her cheeks was obvious even in the low light. Her mouth parted, her breath caught, and fuck, why did she have to do that? Why did it twist something in my chest, turning me more neanderthal than modern man? All I could think of was her under me, over me, those perfect lips parted so perfectly—
“That would be incredibly inappropriate,” she breathed, taking another step back, relinquishing her hold on the door. The warm glow of the room lit her features, increasing the desire I felt for her.
I stepped through, letting myself into her living room, the door opened wide behind me. “Probably about as inappropriate as me showing up at your house unannounced,” I said, my voice dropping an octave without me even trying, “or stripping off my clothes when I knew someone was watching.”
Another step back, and she collided with the back of the couch, her hand grabbing onto the plush fabric to hold herself steady. “Dr. Brady.”
“Hudson,” I corrected again.
“I haven’t made a decision yet about Jamey.”
Do I make you nervous?
I slid my lower lip between my teeth, nodding my acceptance. “And the fake engagement?”
She breathed in, slow and steady, and I wondered if it was to calm herself or just to feign confidence. “I don’t know yet,” she whispered. “Give me a day or two.”
I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her as she crossed one leg over the other, holding her thighs together. She was wearing shorts, the same ones she’d worn when she’d picked up the mail last week. Her legs, long and lean and dotted with the occasional freckle, swam around in my mind. What would they look like wrapped around my hips?
“Do you have a piece of paper?” I asked, my voice much lighter than I expected considering the images running through my head. “And a pen?”
She blinked at me, her brows furrowing, but nodded. I watched her body as she padded across the floor on bare feet toward her massive work table, covered in strips of fabric, two different sewing machines, and a roll of brown paper. She plucked a pen from a desk organizer and tore off a small sheet of paper from the roll, laying both out on the desk. She motioned for me to come closer to her, to use the pen and paper, and all my cock wanted to do was take that in a way I knew she didn’t mean.
Pen clutched in my shaking hand, I scribbled out my phone number in my neatest handwriting and my name below it.
“Call me when you decide, Sophia.”
I didn’t wait for a response. I had to get out of there before I did something I knew I’d regret later.
