I smiled a little, and he smiled back.
“We did that thing that all kids do. We’d look at the clouds and see all sorts of things in their random shapes. One cloud would look like the side of a house, another cloud would look like some sort of monster. That was my favorite thing to do with him, just lie on the grass and look up at the sky.”
Liam took a heavy breath in.
“He died in a car accident with my grandpa. They both died. They were side-swiped by a drunk driver...at eight-thirty in the morning on their way to the park. It was horrible, for my mom especially. She lost her dad and her son in one day.”
“I can’t even imagine,” I said.
"After Toby died, I’d lie on the grass by myself, looking up at the clouds like he and I used to."
Liam paused for a moment and I could tell he was choking back tears. He cleared his throat and, with a steadfast resolve, continued.
"Except, unlike before, I didn't see the shapes of familiar objects when I looked up at the clouds. There were no houses or monsters anymore. Instead...and I’ll warn you, this is going to sound really weird…”
He looked over at me. I gave him a reassuring nod to let him know that whatever he said wouldn't be weird to me.
"It was like I could sense him in the shapes of the clouds. It was a feeling, more than anything else. So like, a dark cloud would mean he was trying to convey something sad, or a light and fluffy cloud would let me know that he was feeling happy, wherever he was. It made me feel like I still had him beside me in a way."
"That's not weird at all," I said, doing my best to talk around the lump that had formed in my throat. "It's really sweet, actually."
"I guess I spent so many hours just staring up at the sky, it made sense I would become fascinated with clouds and weather patterns. So, yeah, that's how I fell into meteorology, basically. That's why I'm so passionate about it, and about the environment. It’s why I want to pass on that passion to future generations too."
Liam looked at me, his face suddenly flinching in surprise.
Then, slowly and without saying a word, he used the tip of his thumb to tenderly wipe away the single tear from the top of my cheek.
Chapter Ten
LIAM
It did something super crazy weird to my insides to see Hudson shed a tear for Toby like that.
It meant something to me that he was so affected by my story. He wasn't just a good listener, he was a compassionate one as well. And for a man that looked like a walking wall of muscle, it was nice to know that he was strong enough, and comfortable enough in his masculinity, to shed a tear.
The conversation remained light for the rest of the appetizers and well into the main course. The duck was decadently juicy and tender.
"You should really try this," I said with way too much duck in my mouth.
"Swapsies?" Hudson suggested with what looked like way too much beef in his mouth.
I managed to giggle without choking as we each put a forkful of food on the other's plate. Both dishes were exquisite and the night was going swimmingly...for a fake date, that is.
I had decided to take the lead in asking questions, wanting to know more about the gentle giant that sat across the table from me. I had started off strongly, but the detour into my childhood was unexpected.
I had never told anyone that story about Toby before. Not even Parker. I didn't know what made me tell Hudson. I knew that I could trust him, and it just felt like the right thing to say. Now that I had shared it with him, I was glad I did. I felt closer to him, which was a good thing to feel with your fake boyfriend.
"So," we both said at the same time and laughed. I guess we were both keen to keep the conversation going.
"Sorry, you go first," I said.
"No, you. Please," Hudson said with an affection in his voice that I couldn't ignore, or disobey.
"It's kind of personal," I said, wanting to give the man fair warning.
"I don't mind personal," he replied in a low grumble that sent a warm weather system spiralling up my spine. I wiped the sides of my mouth with the napkin and neatly folded it into a small square that I placed next to my now-empty plate.
"So, what's your love life history like?" I asked, grinning widely to mask the awkwardness I felt.
He chewed on the last remaining piece of food he had on his plate and then reached for the wine, before answering.
"I'm a little...hmm, I don’t know what the word I’m looking for is, really," he said, and for the first time, I heard a hint of uncertainty in his voice.
"I've had relationships," he continued. "Even one serious one with...his name was Richie."
He paused and I wasn't sure what to do next.
He looked like he didn't know, either.
"But I guess dating has always been hard for me," he continued. I pinched my brows together, finding it more than a little hard to believe him. I studied his face for any signs of sarcasm, but his expression wasn't light. He was being serious.
"Do you mind if I ask why?" I said.
He looked up at me. His light eyes had turned a dark, mossy green.
He took another sip of wine, clearly trying to buy himself some more time as he figured out how to answer my question.
"I'm a little...unconventional."
"Oh," I said.
What the hell did that mean? Did I even want to know?
Not that I would have judged anything that came out of his mouth.
It was more that I worried that his experience in whatever unconventional things he liked, would completely dwarf my already limited conventional experience. A hurried handjob and a quick, sloppy blowjob was my entire sexual resumé.
It was pathetic, at twenty-seven, to have had so little sexual experience, and for some reason, I didn't want him knowing the extent of my patheticness.
"How about you?" he said with a gentle cough. "How's your love life history?"
Great. If he was trying to make the conversation less awkward, he had just steered it in the completely wrong direction. I had to do a one-eighty, but how?
I looked at my empty plate and wine glass. I was completely out of reasons to delay my answer.
"I mean," Hudson asked, with that same uncertainty in his voice from before. "Have you ever dated an older guy?"
Older, younger, it didn't matter...the answer was still a straight-up no. But at least the way he had phrased the question gave me the slightest sliver of an out.
"No," I said, licking my dry lips with my dry tongue. “I’ve never dated an older guy before.”
It was only as I was answering his question that I realized why he had asked it. It was clear as day, but somehow I had completely missed it.
He was older than me, quite a bit older, actually. Maybe the fake relationship didn’t bother him, but my age did?
“Your turn,” I said.
“Are you asking me if I’ve ever dated anyone older?” he said as a smug smirk spread across his lips. It made me want to reach right out and...kiss them.
“No, smarty pants,” I said with a giggle. “Have you ever dated anyone younger?”
I wasn’t expecting his response to be so quick and so...forceful.