Page 36

THIRTY-SIX

MADELINE

It’s been an afternoon from hell.

Lucy had a terrible day at school, and she’s been having tantrum after tantrum since she got home.

My mom called to tell me my dad went to the doctor because of chest pain, and they want to run some tests on his heart.

I have a pounding headache, and by the time I start dinner—forty-five minutes late because the evening slipped away from me, I’m nearing my wit’s end.

The apartment is a disaster, and the kitchen is the worst spot. There are stacks of dishes in the sink. The counter is stained with last night’s pasta and meatballs has stained the counter. The roll of paper towels have become detached from the wall, and the onions I’m attempting to sauté are burning to a crisp, making the whole condo smell like garbage.

Lucy’s wails echo down the hallway. All I want to do is hold her to my chest and comfort her, but I can’t.

There are a million other things waiting for me. The dogs are whining at my feet for their dinner. My back hurts, and I can’t take it anymore.

With no one around to see my royal fuckups and how massively I’ve failed today, I lose it.

I put my hands on the counter—right in the sauce I’ve been trying to clean up for ten minutes but keep getting distracted from because of other things—and start to cry. My shoulders shake. I drop my head back. I stare at the ceiling, and the cries turn into a ragged, ugly sob.

It feels good to get this out—to break down and not be perfect for a minute.

I could wallow here the rest of the night.

“Madeline?” Hudson asks, startling me. I lose my footing on the water Lucy spilled on the floor when I tried to get her a snack earlier, but he moves faster. He’s there to catch me with an arm around my waist. A hand at the small of my back, steadying me against crashing waves. “What’s going on?”

I sniff. “It’s been a day.”

He looks around at the war zone that used to resemble his kitchen. “How can I help?”

That makes me cry even more.

“I don’t know.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Is Lucy hurt?”

“No. She had a horrible day at school, and it carried over all afternoon. I missed your text earlier, so I’m behind on dinner. The dogs haven’t eaten. I didn’t get a chance to clean up from breakfast or lunch. The onions are burnt, but I should be able to throw the rest of the meal together in a few minutes. And I’ll light a candle to get rid of the smell.”

“No.”

“No?

“No.” Hudson reaches behind me and turns off the stove. He rubs his hands down my arms, and it’s amazing how much better I feel when he touches me. “Forget dinner. I’ll order us a pizza. Forget the mess. I’ll get to it later. The dogs can survive an extra hour without their food. Are you okay, Madeline?”

“I don’t know. Lucy’s never acted like this, and I-I feel like a failure. Like I should know how to handle it, but I don’t.” I hiccup. My throat hurts. I’m so tired. “The icing on the cake of a shitty day was my mom calling and letting me know my dad is experiencing chest pains. The doctor is running some tests on his heart. It’s a lot.”

The words spill out of me like the last drops of a wine bottle, and I realize what I’ve said too late. I register the selfishness of mentioning my dad, who I got to talk to this afternoon, while Hudson won’t ever get to talk to his mom again.

I hesitantly search his face for any signs of bitterness. For a shred of resentment for what I have that he doesn’t, but I can’t find any.

All I can find is a soft smile. A heavy sigh and his hands back on my shoulders like that’s where they belong.

“I’m so sorry to hear about your dad. That must’ve added a lot of stress to your day. Is he doing okay? Have you talked to him?”

“I talked to him earlier. He’s in good spirits.” I wipe under my eye. Mascara clings to my thumb, and I probably look like a drowned rat. “He’s upset about the changes to his diet. He’s no longer allowed to have a bowl of ice cream before bed.”

“That’s cruel, honestly. What’s his favorite flavor?”

“Mint chocolate chip.” I huff out the makings of a laugh. “I used to tease him and tell him it tasted like toothpaste.”

“Your dad has some fine taste. Maybe I need to start eating a bowl of ice cream every night before bed.”

“You could afford it. You’re made of pure muscle.”

“And those brownies you made last week.” There’s a boyish glint in Hudson’s eye. “I ate half the pan.”

“I knew it.” I try to swat his arm, but he catches my hand. He wraps his fingers around my wrist and holds me there.

“Talk to me about Lucy. Do you know why she had a bad day at school?” he asks.

“Her teacher told me one of her classmates teased her, and then kept teasing her when she cried. They also had a fire drill and a vocabulary test, and I think it was too much stimulation.”

Hudson slowly lowers my arms to my sides. “Here’s what we’re going to do: you’re going to take a few minutes for yourself. A shower or some time in your room. I’m going to order us some food then I’ll check on Lucy.”

“Hudson.” I sniff again. “You don’t have to?—”

“I want to. You do so much by yourself, Maddie, but I’m here when you need to tap out for a minute. I want to help. Let me help.”

Every kind of emotion twists into a knot in my stomach with the plea in his ask. There’s gratitude and appreciation. Fear of giving over control and careful acceptance of having someone in my corner. I bob my head in a slow nod, ready to welcome the help I so desperately need.

“Okay,” I whisper. The single word makes his whole face brighten. “She might—if you need me for anything , I’m?—”

“We’ll be fine. I promise. And if we’re not, I know where you are.”

I take a step back and turn for my room. Walking away from him is so hard because all I want to do is stay. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Take as long as you need. We’ll be here,” Hudson says. “Go on, Golden Girl.”

“Golden Girl?”

“Yeah.” He gestures around the kitchen, not blinking at the catastrophe surrounding us. “You’re the brightest thing in this room. The brightest thing in every room.”

Oh .

I put my hand over my chest. My heart is racing a mile a minute, and I don’t think it’s going to slow down any time soon. Not as long as he’s in the picture.

“Thank you,” I say.

His smile curves into a beam. It’s brilliantly bright, brilliantly beautiful. When he says, “It’s an honor, Maddie,” I know he means it.

It takes a bubble bath and doing my full skin care routine to feel like myself again. An hour and a half later, I’m ready to conquer the parts of the world I’ve shut out.

I open my bedroom door, peering into the hall. It’s eerily quiet in the condo, and I strain to hear any signs of life.

“Hudson?” I call out, but I don’t get an answer.

Frowning, I walk to the kitchen. When I get there, I stop in my tracks. It’s spotless. The dishes are put away. There’s not a trace of sauce anywhere on the counter or cabinets. The smell of burnt onion has been replaced with a hint of orange and vanilla, and I wonder if I stepped into an alternate universe.

My eyes move to the island where a bouquet of beautiful red roses sit. I break out into a grin, reaching for them. I run my fingers along the petals and long stems, trying to remember the last time I had fresh flora in my house. It’s been months. Years, maybe, and the sight of them makes my stomach do a giddy somersault.

My admiration gets broken up by a laugh floating down the hall. There’s the clap of small hands, a giggle I know with my whole soul.

I greedily follow the nosies, pausing outside Lucy’s room when I make it there. I peer inside, finding her and Hudson sitting on the floor in the middle of her bright pink rug. An army of Barbies are in front of them, from Astronaut Barbie to Pop Star Barbie.

Lucy hands Hudson one with a flashy gold dress. He pretends to have her dance, making Lucy giggle, and every part of me is warm.

“Hey,” I say. Hudson lifts his chin to look at me. His face breaks out into a beam that wrinkles the corners of his eyes and scrunches his nose. He taps Lucy’s shoulder and points my way. Hi, baby girl.

Lucy stands and runs to me. Little arms wrap around my middle, and everything is right in the world again.

We’re playing dolls.

Are you having fun?

Yes. She sighs and rests her cheek against my stomach, and I can’t find any of the tears she had earlier. I’m sorry for being mean.

You weren’t mean. You’re allowed to be sad sometimes.

We cleaned the kitchen! Did you see?

It looks so good in there. Did you pick out the flowers?

No. That was him. He said they’d make you smile. Lucy reaches up and touches my cheek. Did you smile?

So much.

Lucy runs back to her dolls. I focus my attention on Hudson, who is watching us. “You got me flowers?” I ask.

“Yeah.” In the cozy yellows of Lucy’s room, I can see his ears turn pink. His cheeks do, too. “My dad used to buy my mom flowers whenever she had a hard day. Even if there was already a bouquet in the kitchen, he’d show up with more.” He pauses, the silence thick, then continues. “In the end, her whole hospital room was covered in vases. I think he hoped the flowers would bring him some miracle.”

The tattoo on his leg makes so much sense now. It’s not random artwork or a drunken mistake he’ll regret five years down the road.

They’re parts of his mom he carries with him, and to know he’s treating me like his dad treated her makes me feel lucky. Like I’m one in seven billion.

“Maybe she has a garden now. A place up there where she can plant her own flowers and smile nonstop.”

“That—” Hudson swallows. He plays with the dress of the Barbie he’s holding then rubs his jaw. “That’s a really nice thought. I hope she does.”

“I don’t know if anyone’s ever bought me flowers.”

“Ever? Not even?—”

“Not that I can remember. They’re beautiful. Roses are my favorite. Cliché, I know. But I don’t care.”

“I’m glad you like them. I know they don’t fix the things that didn’t go right today. They don’t solve the problems, but they don’t make anything worse.”

“I like that sentiment.” I lean against the door frame. “You got Lucy to calm down? And you cleaned the kitchen? Are you a miracle worker, Bombshell?”

His blush deepens, cheeks bright pink. “Hardly. It took us a minute. Several minutes, actually. I sat with her and let her cry. When she wore herself out, I asked if she wanted to help me with something. We made cleaning the kitchen a game. After, we went and got some fresh air on a walk to the grocery store up the road. Bringing the dogs helped, too. You know she loves Gus and Millie.”

There’s a thrumming behind my ribs the more he talks. It’s not painful, but something more wonderful: a steady, soothing warmth. I’ve never experienced it before, and it moves all over my body, from my spine to my toes.

I blink. When Hudson hands the doll he’s holding over to Lucy and gives her a smile, the understanding hits me like a ton of bricks.

How I missed it before, I don’t know, because it’s so stupidly obvious.

I have a crush on Hudson Hayes.

An alarmingly real, alarmingly serious crush, where just being around him makes everything better. I can breathe easier. I can think clearer. The night has totally turned around, and it’s all because of him.

Maybe I should’ve tried harder to suppress these feelings. I’m the one who threw the label of friends on our relationship, but I don’t want that to be the word to define us anymore.

I want him , in any way I can have him, because he’s the epitome of perfection. He’s magic and stardust and everything I’ve ever dreamed about when I let my cynical heart imagine falling for another man somewhere down the road.

He makes me believe, and that’s not something I’ve done in a very long time.

“What about dinner?” My voice shakes. How could I have missed all the signs? How long have my feelings been hiding from me? How much time have I wasted? “Should I make something?”

“Pizza should be here in ten minutes. Want a glass of wine? I picked up some of that red you like when we grabbed the flowers.”

“Would you judge me if I drank the whole bottle?”

“Not in the slightest.” Hudson stands and offers his hand to Lucy. “Let’s eat.”