Make Up Break Up

by Lily Menon

  She almost tripped over her own feet, her muscles going mushy at the command, the husky desire, in his voice. “Probably not at my dad’s house,” she managed weakly, and he laughed.

  “No,” he conceded. “Probably not there.”

  They’d reached her Honda, by which point she was eager to change the subject. Kissing him, allowing him to talk about kissing her—it was probably giving him the wrong message. She needed to remind him, and maybe even herself, why they couldn’t go out: Nothing had changed, not really. He was still the CEO of Break Up. Sure, she’d seen sparks of something deeper, something more to Hudson’s relationship with Break Up that he wasn’t divulging. But she still wasn’t sure what. Watching him get in, his long legs folding so he could fit, she remembered what he’d said at the Time interview—the way he’d looked at her, almost hurt, when she’d taken his comments as sarcasm. What did it all mean? “Anyway, um, thanks for the bottle of wine. You didn’t have to bring anything.”

  Hudson set the wine in the back seat and buckled in. “I hate going to parties empty-handed. It makes me feel like a freeloader. Speaking of gifts, thank you for the book you got me for my housewarming. I hope you got my thank-you card?”

  Annika laughed as she began to back out of the space. “Yes, and it was very proper of you.”

  “What? That’s not proper. I’m not stuffy. I’m just…”

  “Stuffy.” Annika gave him a sidelong glance as she pulled out of the garage and signaled right, the ticking filling the car. “It’s okay, Hudson, just own it. Really lean into that fussy, fancy side of yourself.”

  He laughed. “Okay, I can be kind of fussy and fancy. But only when it comes to parties and thank-you notes. It’s a weird thing my parents drilled into me. I guess I just never got rid of it.” He adjusted the seat so it was lower and farther back. “Who was riding in here last, a kid?”

  Annika snorted as she went around a BMW that was going ten miles under the speed limit. “That would be June. And she’s actually pretty tall, for your information.”

  Hudson leaned back in his seat. “I’m happy for them,” he said thoughtfully. “Ziggy and June. They seem good together, don’t they?”

  “Well, I don’t know if June would agree they’re ‘Ziggy and June.’ She’s kind of guarded when it comes to love. But I am glad she seems to have found … the Han to her Leia. Even if she doesn’t know it yet.” She could feel Hudson looking at her and glanced over at him. “What?”

  “Do you ever wonder why some people get lucky in love and others don’t? What’s that about?”

  Annika rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe I did something bad in another life.”

  “Do you really think that? Do you believe in karma and all of that?”

  “I believe in kindness coming back to you,” Annika replied carefully.

  Hudson tapped his fingers on the center storage compartment. “Right. And yet, from what I can see, you’re nothing but kind. That’s why I really wonder about karma sometimes. If there is such a thing, though, I’m not sure I’m helping my chances by owning a company like Break Up.”

  Annika glanced at him sharply before watching the road again. “You know what you said at the Time interview? How you think Make Up is the more moral company?”

  He nodded, his eyes straight ahead.

  “Do you really mean that? Do you have … doubts about Break Up?”

  He scratched the side of his jaw, looking torn. “It’s complicated,” he said finally, his voice distant. “Anyway.” He turned on the radio, clearly finished with the conversation for now. “Let’s get some music on, what do you say? Maybe some mariachi?”

  She huffed a light laugh, even as she clutched the steering wheel tighter. Here was a crack in his armor that she could peek through—a hint, a hope of change. Maybe Hudson Craft wouldn’t always be at the helm of Break Up. And then what? What might that mean for them?

  * * *

  Her dad opened the door wearing a Why Whine When You Can Wine apron. Hudson shot her a smug look, clearly self-satisfied with his choice in a gift for the host.

  “Yes, yes, you’re a genius,” Annika said, stepping in to give her dad a hug.

  “Dr. Dev,” Hudson said formally, extending a hand. “Thank you so much for having me. I brought you some wine.”

  Her dad accepted the wine and checked out the label. “A 2013 Côte-Rôtie la Landonne! Nice choice, Hudson. Very nice. Thank you.”

  Hudson smiled as they walked through the foyer. “This is a stunning home. Is that a replica of a chandelier from the Hall of Mirrors in Versailles? It’s exquisite.”

  Annika’s dad beamed. “It is indeed. Annika’s mother had that commissioned many years ago. We have an identical one in the master bedroom as well. Why don’t you come in? I’ll show you the thirties-style lighting I had installed in the kitchen.”

  They walked in, talking about lighting and floors and faucets. Annika followed, smiling a little.

  * * *

  They sat out in the backyard under the pergola, pink honeysuckle entwined in its wooden beams, creating a sweet-smelling canopy above them. Lanterns hung from ropes tied to the beams, casting a soft golden light and flickering shadows around them. The feast her dad had laid out looked like enough to feed twelve people, but Hudson was making a valiant effort to eat it all.

  “It’s so good,” he said, stuffing more naan into his mouth. “I mean, I thought I’d eaten good Indian food in restaurants, but this…”

  Her dad chuckled. “You can’t beat family recipes. Of course, Annika thinks my food is far too spicy.”

  Hudson raised his eyebrows at her. “Seriously?”

  She glared at him over the top of her silver glass of lassi. “What? Just because I’m Indian I need to like spicy food?”

  Hudson laughed. “No, you need to like it because it’s delicious.”

  Her father chortled. “Hear, hear!”

  Annika turned to him. “Daddy, have you been sleeping? You have bags under your eyes.” His hair was grayer than she’d noticed when he visited the Make Up office, too. For the first time, it occurred to Annika that her dad was … aging.

  “Oh.” He waved his hand and took a sip of the wine Hudson had brought, instead of answering. “This is drinking nicely, Hudson. Excellent choice.”

  “Thank you,” Hudson said, glancing at Annika.

  “Dad. You don’t think you’re going to fob me off that easily, do you?” Annika pressed.

  Her father sighed. “I’m fine, Ani.” He looked out past her to the swimming pool, which glimmered in the distance like an aquamarine jewel. The lantern lights reflected in his glasses. “This is just … a big house, you know? And sometimes I realize it’ll never be full again and it makes me think.”

  Annika frowned. “Think about what?”

  He shrugged. “Just … what I want to do now. Or in the future. Do I want to stay here in a year’s time? Five years?”

  “You—you mean you might want to sell the house?” Annika tried not to show how much the thought unsettled her.

  Her father shrugged. “Perhaps. Do I really need all this?” He gestured around the expansive backyard, with its neatly trimmed hedges and citrus tree groves and multiple seating and grilling areas.

  Hudson studied Annika, a sympathetic look on his face. She took another sip of her lassi. “What about—but you bought this house with Mom,” she said softly. “I thought you didn’t want to move on from it because it’d feel like leaving her behind.”

  “That’s what I’ve always told myself,” her dad said, finally meeting her eye. “But maybe that’s foolish. Maybe it’s time to leave the past where it belongs.”

  “Is it?” Her heart was hammering in her chest. More talk of leaving her mom’s memories behind. “Or should we honor the past by taking it with us wherever we go?”

  Her dad looked at her for a long time, his features soft and sad. “I don’t know, Ani,” he said, shaking his head. “But I wish I had the answers.�
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  “You’ll feel better soon,” Annika said firmly. “Maybe go golfing tomorrow. You’re probably just overworked.”

  Her father smiled a little, his index finger circling the rim of his wineglass. “Maybe,” he said. “Maybe you’re right.”

  chapter sixteen

  Annika and Hudson stood on the deck with their glasses of port, looking out at the sparkling city lights. Her dad was in his study, calling a patient who’d come out of surgery a few hours ago and was asking to speak to him.

  “It’s very peaceful here,” Hudson said. “I can see why you come every weekend.”

  “Well, I come mainly for my dad.”

  Hudson smiled lightly. “I think he’s part of what makes it peaceful. There’s a feeling of family here that’s pretty incredible.”

  Annika swirled her port slowly. “Yeah, I guess there is.”

  There was a pause, and then Hudson said carefully, “Are you worried your dad might sell this place?”

  “No. Yes. Kind of?” Annika shrugged. “It’s all I have of my mom. I feel like she’s everywhere here, you know? I feel her so much—I can see the things she picked out. I know some of her likes and dislikes because of this house. Maybe it’s silly, but I almost feel like I know her because of this house.”

  “I don’t think that’s silly,” Hudson said, leaning his elbows against the railing. “She put a lot of herself into this home. It seems to me that it’s kind of a legacy she left behind for you.”

  “Exactly.” Annika stared at him. No one had ever put it that way before. “That’s exactly it.”

  He nodded, holding her gaze for a while before looking away at the hills in the distance. “You know what you asked me, in the car? About whether I have doubts about Break Up?”

  Annika’s heart thumped. “Yeah. You said it was complicated.”

  Hudson met her gaze again. The outdoor gas fireplace was on behind her, and the flames flickered in his eyes. “It is complicated. My brother … he’s a mechanic in Swanson, the same town I grew up in. He doesn’t make a lot, and he already has three kids. My parents have run the same convenience store for thirty years; my mom inherited it from her parents. I knew from the beginning that if anyone was going to support my parents, it’d have to be me. They always expected that of me, you know. I was always supposed to be the one who got away, and the one who’d get successful and take care of them in their twilight years.”

  Annika shook her head, reeling from the fact that Hudson was actually sharing something deep with her again. But she wanted to keep up; she didn’t want him to stop. “But you said you helped them pay off their house and retire, right?”

  Hudson nodded and leaned back against the railing. A light breeze tousled his hair. “Right. But it feels like there’s always something else. Their car breaks down, they need a new one. Or my brother needs help, too—his kids need school clothes, or medicine because they’re sick, or he doesn’t have the money to get them stuff for Christmas.” He smiled, clearly remembering something. “My nephews are really cool kids. I want them to have fun birthdays and Christmases. So I’m happy to help out.” He shrugged and took a sip of his port.

  Annika wondered how to phrase the next question. She knew she had to step delicately. “But when … when do you stop? When will it be enough, what you’re doing?”

  Hudson looked down into his glass. It sparkled under the muted lights of the deck. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked in the night. “I don’t know. I ask myself that sometimes. And the answer I always come up with is never. My parents never gave up on me, and I can’t ever stop the pace at which I’m making money, either.”

  Annika stood in silence, listening to the wind whisper in the trees. “But?” she asked finally, when Hudson didn’t fill the space.

  He let out a deep, heavy sigh and tipped his head back to look at the dark sky. “But you’re right. I do have doubts. The way I think about it—about never being able to stop—might be untenable. And the way I’m supporting them by running Break Up … the entire thing chills me to the core. The people who employ our services, like that guy we saw in the bar after the Early to Tech event. The men who clap my back and thank me for making it easy to juggle multiple women and then toss them aside when they’re done. The businesspeople I’m always meeting with, with their slick, slimy smiles and their ingratiating compliments. I know they’d be gone the instant my financial situation faltered. The journalists who want to know if I think the future of relationships is a game of survival—who gets to use up whom first, who gets to do the discarding. The thing is, I’m sick of it all. This is not who I—this is not how I pictured my life. This can’t last. I can’t be the face of Break Up forever. I don’t have the passion for it that you do for Make Up.” He pushed a hand through his hair and shook his head. “Sorry. That was a lot of information. It’s not something I really like to talk about, so I’m not sure what happened.”

  Annika’s pulse thumped in her throat and her wrists while her heart did a tap dance in her chest. He was saying what she thought he was saying, wasn’t he? He didn’t want to be at the helm of Break Up anymore. He hated it as much as she hated it. It was just a matter of time before he walked away.

  “Don’t be sorry. Thank you for sharing that with me,” she said, her voice steady in spite of the tumultuous emotion she was feeling. He was going to give up Break Up—she was almost sure that’s what he was saying, without actually saying it. He’d said it felt untenable. He’d said the whole thing chilled him to the core. He was still going to compete against her at EPIC, but … this was a shift, wasn’t it? An important one, even.

  Hudson laughed and set his drink down on a nearby table with a glassy clink. “It sounds like I’m having a quarter-life crisis. Jesus.”

  Annika managed a weak smile. “It’s not just you, believe me. A lot of us are completely confused about our lives.” She drained her port in one gulp and set her glass down, too.

  “Really?”

  She looked at him, chewing her lower lip, her fingers tracing the curved metal edge of the table near them. “Really.” She paused. “I—I got a letter from the Bank of California. They’re evicting us. We’re so far overleveraged that we can’t keep up with rent. And we’re ridiculously behind on payments on our business loan, too.”

  “Shit.” Hudson looked genuinely devastated. As he spoke, the firelight caught the tips of his golden hair, threading it with glimmers of red. “That fucking sucks.”

  Annika managed a smile. “Yeah. It does. But we’re not going down without a fight.” She put her hands on the railing, looking out onto the night-darkened hills in the distance. A few lights dotted the vista, like jewels set against black velvet. “EPIC is my chance to bring Make Up back. And I have every intention of winning.” She glanced at Hudson. “Did I just make it awkward?”

  Chuckling, he joined her at the railing. “Maybe a little. But you know what? I’d expect nothing less of you.” He paused, rubbing his thumb along the edge of the railing. For some reason, the movement made Annika’s face warm. “And anyway, I can’t imagine a world where I don’t get to annoy you with my gong. So, you know. I feel like it’ll all work out one way or another.”

  Annika laughed and pretended to punch his arm. His muscle didn’t even move; it was like hitting a wall. “Thanks—I think.”

  They stood in silence for a moment, just staring at each other, their smiles slowly fading into something serious.

  “Hey,” Hudson said softly. “There’s something I want to ask you.”

  Her heart began thumping in her chest again, a rabbit in a trap. A cool, citrus-scented breeze blew in, rustling through the deck, caressing her skin and making her shiver lightly in her thin cotton dress. “Okay.”

  Hudson regarded her, crossing his arms slowly. “Why don’t we both call a truce from now until after EPIC? No sabotaging, no tricks, no pranks.”

  Annika thought about it while playing with her hair. Hudson’s eyes fell to the nape of h
er neck, just for a second. “A truce? Like a cease-fire?”

  “Exactly.”

  A curl blew across her cheek. “I don’t know … that sounds like something an Idealists Anonymous member would do.”

  Hudson smiled. “Ah, so you got the membership invitation.”

  Annika snorted. “Yeah, thanks for that.” After a pause, she looked up at him. “So … why exactly do you want to call a truce?”

  Hudson leaned closer to her. The port had imparted a rosy glow to his cheeks. “I’m hoping it’ll endear me to you a little bit. I like to finish what I start. Like I said earlier.”

  Annika’s heart began beating out an erratic rhythm, her fingers tracing her collarbone lightly. “Right,” she said, her eyes moving down to his lips of their own accord. “I do too, as it happens.” If he was going to walk away from Break Up … was there really any reason she should keep fighting what she felt for him?

  Hudson took a half step closer to her. “Good.” She turned and pressed her back against the railing, looking up at him, her pulse flying. Even though she still had her doubts, a part of her wanted to let him corner her here, wrap his big hands around her waist and pull her against him, snug. Her knees felt strangely shaky, as if her bones were made of melting wax.

  “Parents make the worst patients,” her dad said loudly, bustling out onto the deck.

  It was like both Hudson and Annika had grabbed an electric fence at the same time. They flew apart, Hudson rubbing his jaw and clearing his throat, and Annika blinking, dazed and confused.

  “W-what?” she asked, her brain struggling to catch up to where she was: with her dad on his deck, not in some hotel room alone with Hudson.

  Her dad, completely oblivious, waved an impatient hand. “The kids are fine, you know. Really resilient. But the parents? They want me to calm their anxieties. This is the sixth call today from the same family. I sympathize, but also, your child’s fine! Let him sleep off the post-op urinary retention from the anesthesia! The nurses and the attending doctor are perfectly capable of keeping an eye on him.”