The second man steps away. I’m seconds from grabbing their drinks when I realize there’s a third man. I didn’t see him come in with them, and I must not have heard the bells on the door, but he’s there.
Standing right in front of me.
“Hudson,” I say, feeling the hot flush of my face in real time. I walk away from the cash register and up to Jaime. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I have to deal with something really quick. Can you get the other two orders?”
Jaime’s eyes glide over my shoulders toward Hudson. “You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Just give me a minute.” I storm from around the counter and pull him toward the back of the shop. “Stalking is illegal in all fifty states. Including Nebraska.”
He smirks. “I literally had no idea you worked here. I’m just as shocked as you are.”
Frowning, I say, “Seriously, Hudson? Or is that just another one of your lies?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I know,” I say, arms folded. “I know all about Audrina. How you wanted to get back at her. And how you used me to do it.”
His smirk fades.
“Yeah,” I say. “That’s what I thought.”
“I was going to tell you,” he says. “I came to your house last week. Your dad wouldn’t let me in.”
“You did?”
“Yep. He didn’t tell you?”
“No,” I say.
“I didn’t expect him to,” Hudson says. “But I was there. And I fought like hell, but your dad is pretty fucking persistent.”
“That he is.” I don’t let it show, but I’m slightly disappointed that my father kept that from me. Not that I’d have wanted to see Hudson, but it would’ve been nice to know that he flew all the way here just to see me. “Have you been here all this time?”
He shakes his head. “I put an offer on a house last week. Came here today to finish the deal and take possession.”
“You bought a house? In Orchard Hills?”
“I’m restoring a Frank Lloyd Wright house. It’s on that street you liked, the one with all the big houses,” he says.
I know the house he’s talking about.
“The Arthur Feuerstein house,” I say.
“Yeah,” he says. “That’s the one. I’m restoring it, and then when I’m finished, I’ll probably donate it to the local historical society if I can’t find a buyer who’ll appreciate what it means to live in a literal work of art.”
“How noble of you.”
“I don’t expect you to understand how deep my passion for architecture runs,” he says. “But the mocking is completely unnecessary.”
“How long are you going to be here fixing it up? And what about the firm back in New York?” It’s weird asking him questions like we’re on good terms. Nothing has changed. I’m nothing more than curious.
“Six months, give or take?” he says. “And I’m going to divide my time. Every other week until the house is finished.”
Placing my hands on my hips, I decide to get back to business. Lifting my head high, I say, “Okay, well, I’d appreciate it if you’d stay out of my way while you’re in town and I’ll stay out of yours.”
“Mari.”
Another customer, an older woman, enters the shop. So much for the end of the morning rush.
“I was hoping we could still talk sometime,” he says, his eyes drinking me in like it could be the last time.
“There’s nothing left to talk about, Hudson.” I look to the lady, watching her huff at the counter. Jaime’s still working on drinks for the guys. “I have to get back to work.”
“You’re angry with me,” he says. “I get that. And you should be. You’re right—I misled you. And you can be as angry as you need to be. But you should know I’m sorry. For whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
With that, he turns and leaves. My chest tightens.
I want to scream.
I want to cry.
I want to run to him.
I want to kiss him.
I want to slap him.
But I can’t do any of that, so I force a smile on my face and greet the silver-haired lady shooting daggers my way.
Thirty-Eight
Hudson
* * *
“I think we could have the roof done for you by the middle of next week.” A contractor in a faded green t-shirt removes his Royals cap and scratches his brow, squinting toward the house.
“I’d like the estimate in writing by noon tomorrow.”
“Yeah, we can do that.”
Scanning the expansive property, I make a mental note to get an estimate on landscaping next time I’m here. The hedges are overgrown, there’s a dying linden tree in the back yard, and the lawn is peppered with crab grass. This thing’s going to be a sight for sore eyes by the time I’m finished.
About a block away, a woman in black leggings, electric green sneakers, and a neon blue t-shirt strides up the other side of the street, arms swinging and white earbuds dangling down the sides of her face. The closer she gets, the more I’m certain it’s Mari.
“Sorry. Will you excuse me?” I say to the contractor, stepping toward the edge of my yard.
Yep.
It’s her.
She isn’t looking in my direction. At all. And clearly she has no plans to stop and chat.
“Mari,” I call to her as I cross the street.
She glances at me for half a second before redirecting her attention ahead. She doesn’t stop.
“Mari, wait.” I pick up my pace, watching as her shoulders slump and she finally slows to a stop.
Turning on her heel, she yanks her earbuds and places her hands on her hips.
“Yeah?” she asks.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking a walk …”
Our eyes meet, and my stomach twists. Her thick blonde hair is pulled back from her face with the help of an elastic headband, and her blue eyes flash deep and stormy.
I hurt her.
And I hurt her because she liked me.
And she’s still hurting because she still likes me.
“Interesting route,” I say.
Mari rolls her eyes. “You literally bought a house a block away from my parents. Believe me, this isn’t intentional or I’d have stopped and said hi.”
“How long are you going to punish me?” I ask.
She glances away, sighing, and then her eyes flick up to mine. “Punish you?”
“I’m going back to the city tomorrow,” I say. “I’d love to spend a little time with you tonight. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”
“Like how you lied to me?”
“I’d like a chance to explain.”
“No, you just want a chance to justify what you did,” she says. “Regardless, I lied to you. You lied to me. The relationship was fake. And now it’s over.”
“You’re oversimplifying it.”
“Am I?” Mari scoffs, dragging her sneaker across the pitted concrete sidewalk before shaking her head and staring into the distance.