“Silas loved star gazing,” he continued, his voice softer beneath the moonlight. “My mom always made time for us to catch a meteor shower. Coming here makes me feel closer to them.”
I glanced up from the camera. His skin was kissed with an orange sheen from the fire. I felt so connected to him, and to those meteors. Weren’t we all constructed from hardened layers of time, safeguarding our precious interiors?
“Make a wish,” I said, caught up in the intensity of his gaze.
His eyes never left mine. “I think it already came true.”
WE MADE LOVE UNDER THE meteor shower, and I gave myself to him in a way I never had with anyone. Burning up in each other’s atmospheres as we pummeled toward the unknown with a force that couldn’t be stopped. Our love a star bursting in the sky, fading over billions of years.
DECEMBER 23, 2015
I DIDN’T SLEEP IN MY own bed anymore.
A week ago, I agreed to stay with Hudson until I had to leave again.
“You’re here nearly every night, Hartley. Why keep paying for a house you never go to?” he’d said when I declined his offer.
“Because it gives me a space of my own to go to if I need to,” was my reply. Just the thought of feeling trapped made my skin itch.
He didn’t back down. He never did when he felt he was right. And that was the problem… when it came to making sense of me, he always seemed to know what I needed, even if I didn’t.
“Why does this feel like you’re asking me to move in?” I asked, arms crossing against my chest like armor.
He kept his gaze as straight and as smooth as ever. “Because I am. And deep down, you know it’s a good idea. Besides, you shouldn’t spend Christmas alone.”
“Why not? I’ve spent plenty of Christmases alone. I put the Scrooge in Christmas.”
He gave me a look. The same look that had the power to make me fold.
I groaned. Scratched at my neck.
He was so confident, all the time. A confidence I couldn’t try to emulate. He just was it. It was overwhelming at times, to know someone who knew themselves while the rest of us were scrambling, still trying to figure it out. But… when I looked closely enough, I saw his tells. The way he reached for a toothpick when he was thinking. Or how he twirled his hair when someone said something meaningful or he was nervous. He wasn’t above or below me.
He was just him and I was just me, and we were figuring this thing out.
“This was supposed to be a bed and breakfast, Hartley,” he said as he grabbed my hands, running his thumbs over my knuckles. It calmed me when he did that. He knew that. “You can have the other side of the house if you want. We’d never have to see each other if it’s what you want, but at least you won’t be paying for the other place anymore.”
He made a valid argument I couldn’t fight.
If I were being honest, I didn’t want to fight it.
Which was why I was currently cuddled up next to him as he slept.
In his bed.
On his side of the house.
I hadn’t had a chance to move my stuff into the room on the other side.
It was too far from the kitchen.
At least that was the excuse I told myself.
EVERY DAY PASSED EASILY INTO the next. Too easily. The streets were lit with multicolored lights. Angels draped the light poles. Wreaths hung on the storefronts. Hudson even put an adorable flannel collar on Bilbo.
Christmas was in the air, and I couldn’t be more appalled by it.
Give me Jack and Sally. Give me haunted houses and dark alleys. Christmas was shattered for me when I was twelve and my dad forgot to stop by. When I sat with Mom, holding her hands over the dinner table full of all his favorite foods, promising it wouldn’t go to waste because I planned on eating it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
He told her they were going to get back together.
And then he didn’t show.
Hudson came alive with the holiday spirit. It was like Father Christmas lived in his soul. Everywhere we went, he wanted to listen to Christmas music. He’d hum and whistle, fingers tapping melodically against the steering wheel.
I could get through about three songs, and then I’d beg him to put anything else on but that.
I learned he put black pepper on everything. I meant everything… even in his eggnog. We slept like octopuses, tangled together within his sheets, unable to pull apart. I grew used to his beard even though it scratched me every time we kissed. It was a certain pain laced with pleasure. A branding of sorts.
It was scary how easily we fell into a routine. Every morning, we’d wake. He’d cook breakfast. We’d grab coffee at the gas station where it all began. And then he’d head to the diner, and I’d edit odd jobs until I grew hungry and started missing him.
Somehow, I always ended up back at the diner.
I realized he was like discovering a new song. Wanting to hear it over and over until I memorized every lyric, every beat, every hidden note. And then the song became nostalgic to that moment in life. A tucked-away piece of happiness. I decided that was what he would be for me. I was still in control. I could leave if the need ever came. It might burn, but everything good in life did when taken away.
The next day, I was sitting across from him while he went over paperwork for the diner. It was New Year’s Eve, and there wasn’t a soul in sight. If I took a guess, they were at the town square that was blocked off for fireworks to bring in the new year.
I scrolled through my emails, deleting message after message until something stopped me. It was a listing for an up and coming company I’d been dying to get in with. They were hiring a new crew and asking for submissions.
I sat straight.
“What is it?” Hudson asked. He was so attentive and aware.
I told him about the email. Up until this point, the itch to keep moving had been easily ignored. Kept sated by the happiness I’d been feeding it. But there it was, scratching at the back of my neck. Whispering in my ear, it’s time.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile so big. You have to submit to them, Hartley.”
I chewed on my lip, thoughts bouncing around my head. “You think? I mean, this company is a big deal.” I was sure there were hundreds of film editors chomping at the bit to work with them. I was one in a sea of many, most as talented as me. The likelihood of landing this job was slim, but it was a dream I didn’t want to pass up.
He didn’t hesitate. “Hartley, you’ve been here for what… five months now? This is what you’ve been waiting for. Something that ignites your heart and makes you question yourself enough to ask my opinion. It’s because this means something to you. Do it. Submit.”
He didn’t ask if it could result in me leaving. He didn’t have to, because we both knew it would.
I clicked on the link and filled out the necessary blanks, then uploaded my resume and a condensed version of my work. The cursor hovered over the submit button. What was I waiting for? This was it… the dream… my next adventure.
An adventure he couldn’t come on.
He reached across the table, taking my hand in his, running the pad of his thumb over the hills of my knuckles. “We’ll figure it out when the time comes. Together. Honesty, remember?”
My heart expanded.
I let myself fall into his smile, and then nodded. “Together.” After clicking the submit button, I closed the laptop and took a deep breath. “It’s done.” I reached for the basket of silverware and began wrapping. It made me feel good to help. Useful. Kept me from thinking about the future and what was waiting around the corner.
Besides, I probably wouldn’t get the job anyhow.
An hour had passed, and Hudson was filling up the last of the salt shakers. Martha was in the kitchen, shutting everything down for the night while Lucas stacked chairs. I noticed him glancing over at us more than once with this nervous expression before he finally decided to come over.
Hudson looked up. I could
tell Lucas was intimidated. He was like a kid seeking approval from his dad.
“I’m having a New Year’s party tonight. If you guys don’t have plans, I’d love for you to come.”
Hudson dropped his gaze to his paperwork. “Thank you, Lucas, but I don’t—”
“We’d love to,” I said over him. I gave Lucas a bright smile. “What time?”
Lucas perked up. “Ten. And it’s an open bar, so come thirsty.”
I ignored the glare Hudson was giving me. “We most definitely will. Thank you.”
“Hartley,” Hudson muttered as soon as Lucas headed off with a healthy hop to his step.
I met his gaze. “You can’t live in a bubble forever, Hudson. An artist needs to breathe people in, the good and the bad, in order to find true inspiration.” I wrapped the last set of silverware before placing it in the basket. “And who knows?” I added, “Maybe your next piece will come from this outing.”
He made a face at me, but I could tell there was nothing behind it because he knew I was right.
LUCAS HAD SECRETS.
The first—he didn’t need a job. He came from old money, and he’d been gifted a house on the beach after graduating from Harvard with a major in economics. And by house, I meant mansion. Apparently, he’d already made a few million in stocks on his own.
The second—he had an amazing voice. After getting over the shock of where he lived, we found Lucas in his living room, surrounded by more people than I could count, lulled by the serenade he sung on his large karaoke machine.
The last and most important—his fiancée was drop-dead gorgeous.
Maybe I shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.
“You made it!” Lucas said after his song was over. He hugged me, and then stuck his hand out to Hudson as the screeching sound of someone singing pecked at our ears. “Isn’t she amazing?” Lucas nodded in the direction of the woman on the karaoke machine.
I tried to keep my features complacent. “Sure. Who is she?” I asked.
“My fiancée, Bella.” He had that smitten look on his face. The one that said their relationship was still fresh and every quirk—like bad singing—was nothing but endearing.
“She’s lovely,” I said, offering a smile.
He waved at her, she waved back, and then he guided us into the fully staffed kitchen. “What would you guys like to drink?” We passed through and ended up in the backyard where a DJ was pumping out hits from the year, overseeing more people jumping in and out of the pool.
“I’ll take a whiskey and coke,” I said, digging my elbow into Hudson. He didn’t say anything right away. I thought he might be shell-shocked. “He’ll have a brandy on the rocks,” I added with a small giggle.
We followed Lucas up to the bar, waiting as the bartender shuffled around.
“You live here?” I asked as I surveyed the place. It was a house fit for a pop star. Not at all what I pictured for shaggy-haired, surfing Lucas.
“Yeah. It was a gift for graduating.”
“Some gift,” Hudson said.
Lucas flinched a little. “I don’t tell people because it’s not something I like to flaunt. My family made a killing in the citrus industry. My father pushed me to learn the economic side of things, so I did. It was his dream, though. Something I soon realized after making my first million.”
Hudson choked on his drink. “Million?”
Lucas nodded. “I have a good eye for investing in stocks.”
“And you’re waiting tables at my diner?”
Lucas tossed his head from side to side in thought. “I like the simplicity of it. I like our customers. I like working with you and Martha. You’re like a family I never had.” He leaned toward Hudson. “And besides, it gets me out of the house. There’s only so much sitting behind a computer a person can take.”
Hudson downed his drink.
Lucas patted him on the back. “I know, I know. You hate the sentimental stuff. But it’s true. My dad was hardly ever home, and my mom was too busy with her boyfriends.” He must have noticed Hudson squirming, because he quickly shifted the subject. “But anyway,” he said with a laugh, “Go. Have a good time. Enjoy yourselves. Mi casa, su casa.”
He left us alone at the bar as people screamed and laughed, jumping into the pool. Palm trees swayed lazily in the evening breeze. There was a pleasant warmth to the air that still boggled me. It was like Florida never received the memo that it was winter.
“That kid has been working for me for over a year, and I had no idea,” Hudson said as he took my hand in his and guided me away from the crowded area.
“Maybe that should tell you that you need to pay more attention to the people who work for you.”
His eyes dimmed a little. It was always his eyes. Never his face that showed expression.
“Come here,” I said, wanting to put light back into him.
“Where?”
“Closer.” I tugged on his hand. “I want to tell you a secret.”
“What secret?”
“A secret about you and me.” I batted my eyelashes. It worked on him when I did it.
He folded as I waggled my finger at him, beckoning him closer until we were nose to nose.
“Tell me, woman,” he said, the anticipation killing him.
“Okay.”
With my hand shielding our faces, boxing us in, I kissed him, good and hard. Deep and long until I felt his entire body relax. That was the thing about us… no matter what it was, a kiss could always make it better.
He pulled away with a smile.
We found a bonfire just down the hill roaring with life. There were only a couple other people standing around it, tossing in sticks, probably trying to get away from the craziness like we were. Hudson pointed to a log, and then we sat, warming up by the fire.
“He reminds me of him,” he said, his voice distant, face a glowing shade of orange.
He was talking about his brother, so I put my arm around his waist as he pulled me closer.
“Silas is like that. Carefree, but deeply emotional. He noticed things I didn’t. Like when Mom was stressed. He could read a face like you wouldn’t believe. And he took everything personally. Almost too personally. I think I always knew that, even when he was a baby. My dad used to yell at me because I’d even speak for him when he was still learning to talk. He never knew what Silas was saying, but I did. It was like we could read each other without ever saying a word.” He stared down at me, and my lungs clenched at the resounding sadness that surfaced in the blue of his eyes. “And then I fucked it up. He was sensitive, but I let my anger and grief get the best of me. Just like with Lucas.”
He stood, and I rose with him.
“We should go.” He took my hand, eyes spooked. I felt the tension rolling off him in thick, smothering waves. It was always like this when he thought about Silas. A habit he’d formed over the years. He was retreating into himself, his mistakes sticking out their greedy hands, begging for him to pay up with happiness.
“Hudson—”
He started tugging me away. “This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t be here. I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore.”
It had to end.
“Hudson,” I said louder. I cupped his face. “Look at me,” I coaxed softly, wishing I could take his pain from him. When he finally did, I said, “You don’t have to keep punishing yourself. It’s okay to allow yourself to be happy.”
He kissed me then. Deep and rough, and raw with emotion. I felt his chains shaking loose, and I pulled him close, desperate to hang onto him and this moment.
WE BROUGHT IN THE NEW year with Lucas underneath a veil of twinkling stars. Kissing new resolutions into our souls. Too caught up to realize reality was perched around the corner.
FEBRUARY 15, 2016
I HATED VALENTINE’S DAY.
Not because I never had anyone to share it with, but because of the expectations behind it. Why couldn’t every day be a day to celebrate the person you’re with? Why
pin those sentiments down to one day?
I told Hudson in advance that I didn’t celebrate Valentine’s day. He responded by bringing home the largest teddy bear he could find and a dozen roses. The card read:
For my cliché-hating beauty. Smile.
I did.
And then we made love on the kitchen table. Messy and deep, eyes dancing with each other as our tongues seared away the scars in our hearts.
LIFE HAD A WAY OF showing up before I was ready.
It was a warm morning. Annoyingly warm for February from what Hudson said before he headed out to his shed. He’d been making more and more art lately, ever since that night at Lucas’ house. I was sitting at the kitchen table sorting through my emails when I came upon an address that made my heart do a triple thud.
It was the company I’d submitted to over a month and a half ago. The subject read: Love Your Work. Lead Editor Needed for Nudist Colony Piece.
Nudist colony? Lead editor?
I opened it. They were creating a piece about the beauty of self-acceptance and self-love. Life outside the confinement of stereotypes. It was a three-month piece to be shot in Oregon. Rather than sending me the footage to script and edit after shooting, they wanted me there on site, helping build the piece before editing began.
I had to take a pause.
I’d get my own team? As a lead?
I was intrigued. A lady boss. That was unusual.
I read on and on until I got to the last line.
I’ve been a fan of your work ever since I saw The Crow and the Sad Girl. If you’re willing, I’d love to hire you full time on my crew as lead editor. I have two more projects lined up after this one that I think you’d be perfect for. If you decide to join us, you’ll have free rein helping me script the storylines throughout the process. I’ll be producing and directing this piece, and already have the production team squared away. Save you.
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