by Lily Menon
Hi. Heard about the pitch. Can we meet?
The response came back less than five minutes later. When?
chapter twenty-two
June left early to meet with Ziggy. Apparently, he’d texted her to say he had a few things to tell her, and asked to meet for an early dinner. June looked nervous, but Annika knew Ziggy wouldn’t tell her anything she didn’t want to hear. It was probably work stuff to do with Break Up withdrawing from the pitch.
She herself was meeting up with Hudson in a half hour at a bar down the street. She’d refreshed her deodorant, reapplied some of her makeup, and now she sat in her chair, tapping her nails on her desk. It was so quiet on their floor. Too quiet. It gave her too much time to think. She considered calling her dad again, but she’d already called him twice (once to break the news of the win; he’d yelled so loudly, the nurses had come rushing to his room) and visited once. She knew he was fine.
Gently, Annika ran a finger over the glued-together sculpture Hudson had made her, her finger snagging on some of the sharp corners that were left over from its break. After a moment, she clicked to wake up her laptop and opened the cloud service June stored her work in. She knew June’s future projection program was stored there, too.
Without thinking too closely about it, Annika fed her social media accounts to the program, which were its main source of data points unless they were manually entered, as June had done for the fictional Annie and Sam. Then, she fed it Hudson’s social media.
A message popped up on the screen: Processing, please wait … and while you wait, enjoy this scene! May the Force be with you!
A small video player popped up, featuring an epic battle scene from the first Star Wars playing on its screen. Annika snorted. This was so June. She was halfway through the scene when it abruptly disappeared. It was replaced, instead, by Annika and Hudson’s projection.
Annika’s breath caught as she watched herself and Hudson doing yoga together on the beach at sunset. Then, hand in hand, they strolled through an open-air market, picking out flowers and fruit, talking together, Hudson’s head dipped toward hers as he whispered something in her ear that made her laugh. There was Hudson, down on one knee, proposing to her in a hotel room with a view of the Seine, while she cried unabashedly and said yes. There she was, walking hand in hand with a dark-haired toddler in overalls, Hudson taking a picture of his little family. And finally, a rendering of her and Hudson as older adults, sitting under a pergola in a beautiful garden, reading together in the dappled sunlight.
The screen faded to black.
This was the future OLLI had predicted for Hudson and Annika, based on their personalities and how they interacted with the world. This was one possible future of many, she knew that. None of them might come true; it wasn’t magic. It was just one machine’s idea of what might happen.
Annika pushed her chair back and stalked to the storage closet to grab her bag, suddenly annoyed that she’d fed the program her and Hudson’s information. At any point, she could’ve realized what a stupid thing she was doing, that it was an exercise in frustration. She was annoyed that OLLI hadn’t shown them arguing or fighting or getting divorced. She was annoyed, most of all, that it had made her long for something that could never be hers.
Grabbing her phone, Annika turned out the lights and stalked to the elevator. She and Hudson were never going to be together. They’d lasted less than a full weekend before breaking up; that’s how incompatible they were. OLLI was wrong—completely, breathtakingly, stupendously wrong.
Once out of the elevator, Annika crossed the foyer and walked into the balmy evening toward the bar where she was meeting Hudson. She’d have to tell June the program wasn’t working nearly as well as she thought it did.
* * *
Hudson was already waiting when she arrived. Annika pushed the door open and stood there, her hand still on the handle, staring at him. She could barely breathe.
He was sitting in a dimly lit corner of the stylish bar, under repurposed wooden shelves that held antique liquor bottles. A chandelier hung in the center of the bar, throwing pinpoints of light all over him. He wore dark jeans and a wrinkled button-down rolled up to his elbows, and he had a day’s worth of stubble he was rubbing. He wasn’t on his phone, wasn’t reading a book, wasn’t doing anything except gazing off into the distance. What was he thinking? Had he been so busy since the pitch that he hadn’t had time to shave or dress as impeccably as he usually did?
Annika’s heart hurt. She wanted to rush up to him, curl up into his lap, nuzzle her face into his neck, and breathe deeply. She wanted him to rub her back, smooth back her hair, take her lips between his teeth, and tease her. But the time for all of that was over.
Clearing her throat, she let go of the door and stepped all the way inside, making way for the young couple coming up behind her. Pull yourself together, Annika. She glanced at her reflection in the distressed wooden mirror on the wall; her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she was wearing mascara, lip gloss, and a simple cotton dress. Not the best she’d ever looked, but not horrible. Not that it mattered to Hudson anymore.
She made her way to his table, her heart beating furiously. He looked up, met her eye, and stood to greet her. No smile.
“Hi.” His green eyes held her with the fiery intensity she already missed.
She leaned forward to kiss his cheek, her pulse jumping at the contact. His stubble scratched her skin and she made a valiant effort not to inhale. She didn’t want to smell him—she couldn’t. “Hi.” When she pulled back, she noticed he had his eyes closed, but he opened them again immediately. Annika took a seat across from him. “Thanks for meeting with me.”
He nodded and took a sip of his water. There were lines around his mouth and slight bags under his eyes, like he hadn’t been sleeping.
“You look … like you’ve been busy.”
Hudson smiled, but it was mirthless and didn’t reach his eyes. “You mean I look rough.”
She didn’t say anything. That was what she’d meant, but she was curious what he’d been up to. The waitress came by and Annika ordered a Coke. She wanted to keep a clear head. Hudson ordered a whiskey sour, apparently having no such concerns. Guess he’s able to keep a clear head around me no matter what.
After the waitress left, Hudson rubbed a hand along his jaw and looked at Annika. “Congratulations on your win. I’m really happy for you.” Though he didn’t smile, she could tell he meant it.
“Thanks,” she said quietly. “But that’s actually why I wanted to talk to you.”
“I’m assuming you heard we withdrew from EPIC.”
“Yes.” She crumpled Hudson’s straw wrapper between her fingers. “Did you do that because of … us? Because of our fight?”
Hudson shook his head, a lock of his hair falling across his forehead. “No. I did it because I heard what happened to your dad.”
“Oh.” The word escaped Annika’s mouth, just a breath of air.
“How is he?”
“Okay. Much better now. It was really scary for a while, but…” Her voice wobbled and she cleared her throat. Hudson frowned, as if in pain. “He’s at Cedars-Sinai now, and they’re taking good care of him.” She paused and bit her lip. The bar was filling up, happy people taking up tables near them. It felt odd to be in such a festive place when her own conversation and feelings were so solemn. “Why—why would you withdraw because my dad was in an accident? I thought you—Break Up—needed the capital from the investors.”
“We did.” The waitress placed their drinks in front of them and left. Hudson took a swig of his drink before continuing. “But I didn’t want to win like that, Annika. I didn’t want to go up against you when you were hurting, when your whole world was collapsing around you. I thought it was fucking brave that you still wanted to pitch. When June told Ziggy, I knew what we had to do.”
Annika picked her Coke up with a shaking hand and took a sip. He thought she was brave. “You—but—what will you
do now for capital? Find another investor?”
“I suppose we could.” Hudson sat back and watched her for a moment. “But I’ve decided to close the company down instead.”
Annika almost snorted Coke up her nose. “You what? Completely?”
Hudson nodded grimly. “Completely. The news will break later this week. I’ve already contacted Emily Dunbar-Khan at Time. They’re going to rewrite the article so it’s about you and your success at EPIC. I’m sure she’ll be in touch soon.”
Annika shook her head. This was all happening so fast. “Wait, but … why? Why would you close the company down? What about your parents—sending money home, wanting to be successful for them?”
Hudson leaned forward, setting his elbows on the dark wood. A group of people behind Annika laughed uproariously at something, but his eyes didn’t so much as flicker toward them. He was intently focused on her. “You were right, Annika.” His voice was low, but full of emotion. “When was it ever going to be enough? When was I going to loosen my grip? When was I going to reconcile who I am with what I do for a living?” He pushed a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “You asked the tough questions, and at the time I couldn’t see that they were the right questions. I was losing myself to Break Up, and it took you pointing it out for me to see it clearly.”
Annika’s hands were trembling. She balled them into fists against her thighs. “What … what about Blaire and Ziggy? What will you do now?”
“I talked to them before I withdrew. I told them what it meant for me and that I was done. That I didn’t want to run a company like that; a company I didn’t believe in anymore. They were a hundred percent behind me. We’ve all had time to build our savings up with Break Up’s success, so money isn’t going to be an immediate issue.
“As for what I’m going to do next … I’m going back to the visual arts app I told you about in Vegas. Blaire and Ziggy want to come along with me.” He smiled faintly and took a sip of his drink. “And in my free time, I plan to work on a dream I had—my sculpting. I’m converting my second guest bedroom into a studio.” He reached forward, his fingers hovering above Annika’s hand. Her heart raced, her skin aching for the contact. But he curled his hand into a fist and placed it back on his side of the table. “Thank you. For being so honest with me. For seeing something that I didn’t see myself. You’ve changed my life.” There was that faint smile again. “But I suppose that’s par for the course for you.”
Annika’s throat felt painful and tight for reasons she couldn’t articulate. Swallowing a sip of ice-cold soda, she opened her mouth to say he was welcome. Instead, she found herself saying, her voice barely a whisper, “You didn’t call or visit. When you heard my dad was in the hospital.”
He squeezed his eyes shut for just a moment. “I wanted to. I thought about you constantly. I got updates from Ziggy, who got them from June. Thirdhand updates.” He shook his head. “It was torture. But I didn’t think … the way we left things, I thought I’d be the last person you’d want to hear from. I didn’t want to add to the nightmare.”
She shook her head slowly, a tear leaking down her cheek. “I wanted to hear from you. I kept wishing you’d call. It felt like—like you didn’t care.”
Hudson closed his eyes again, just for a moment, his face a mask of regret. “That is … that’s not at all how I felt.” His voice was tight, controlled.
“I still don’t understand,” Annika said, brushing the tear off her cheek. “You were so different in Vegas. The guy I met there didn’t even have Break Up in his mind. So … why? Why did you change your mind?”
Hudson held her gaze. The way the fading sunlight was coming in through the windows, his eyes seemed to glow green-gold. “You.”
Annika shook her head, frowning. “I don’t understand.”
“It was you. Don’t you remember how we left things?”
Annika woke up and rolled onto her side. Hudson lay sleeping beside her, one arm tucked under his head, his other flung over her waist. Already, she was learning him. Already, she knew that if she slid out of bed before seven o’clock, he wouldn’t stir.
She was usually a morning person. Seeing the sunlight filtering through the curtains generally filled her with delight. But not today. She knew what today meant. She knew it meant goodbye.
She and Hudson hadn’t discussed what their summer dalliance meant, or whether they were going to see each other again. She wanted to; she thought about it all the time, what it might be like back in LA with him, having coffee together in her favorite coffee shop or going to a concert over the weekend. But she knew what she felt was one-sided. He’d never brought up the future. She, on the other hand, was the hopeless romantic—the one who always fell too fast, and too hard. She was a first-date girl, not the one men wanted to date for any length of time. And she just couldn’t face that rejection again. Not from Hudson Craft.
Besides, they were both young professionals, busy with apps they wanted to launch into the world within the next year. Annika knew what this meant as well as he did: This week was all they had. Seven days; no more, no less. And now it was over. She and her foolish heart would take a long time to get over this, and she might never have another week like the one she’d spent with him ever again. But Hudson would move on. He’d forget about her soon enough.
Reaching over carefully, she planted a kiss on the corner of his mouth. He didn’t stir. She thought for a moment, and then wrote him a note on the pad on the nightstand.
“This was fun. I wish you well. Annika x”
Not too clingy, not too sad. A goodbye that let her leave without feeling the sting of rejection she knew was coming once he woke up.
She stood at his door for just a moment longer than necessary, watching his sleeping form. Goodbye, Hudson Craft. Then she turned and walked away.
Annika frowned at Hudson, the background full of clinking glasses and merry laughter. “I … I left you a note.”
His eyes were somber. “You ghosted me. No number, no email address. You didn’t want me to find you. After everything we shared that week, I thought we had this—this real connection. And to wake up to that empty bed and that impersonal note…” He shook his head. “It fucking hurt.”
Annika’s brain was having trouble comprehending this. “What? Why?”
Hudson laughed incredulously and took a gulp of his drink. “Isn’t it obvious, Annika? I fell for you. Hard. I thought maybe you felt the same way, or at least on the same spectrum as me. But then you treated me like a one-night stand—excuse me, a seven-night stand—that you picked up at a frat house.” He took a shaky breath. “You were the best and worst thing about that summer.”
“But—but I’m the one who always falls for people too fast. I left you that note because I thought there was no way you felt the same about me. I didn’t want to put you in an awkward position, or—” She shook her head, trying to drown out all the sounds around her. “But you never brought up the future. You never said you wanted to continue to go out in LA.”
He leaned forward, his hands flat on the table. “I was going to, that last day. I didn’t want to scare you by bringing it up too early, but that was my plan. I wanted to have your number, take you out on a proper date once we got to LA.”
Annika licked her dry lips. “I—I had no idea. I thought you were going to walk away and I couldn’t face that.”
Hudson held her eyes, not saying anything.
She pushed a hand through her hair, still having trouble believing what she’d heard. “You were hurt by me. And that’s why you came up with Break Up.” She began to laugh. “Hudson—”
Hurt flashed across his face, the skin around his eyes tightening. “I don’t see what’s funny.”
Annika shook her head, trying to catch her breath. She reached out and took his clenched fist in her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m laughing because … do you know why I came up with Make Up?”
“Your parents,” Hudson said carefully. “You couldn’t give
them the second chance they deserved, so you wanted to give it to other people.”
“That’s half the reason I came up with Make Up.” She held his eyes to make sure he was listening. “The other half was you.”
Hudson’s face changed, a mixture of hope and confusion splashing across his features. “What do you mean?”
“After I … ghosted … you, I suppose, though it didn’t feel that way to me, I was heartsick. I convinced myself that I cared about you way more than you cared about me. I was always the hopeless romantic, falling in love too easily, getting my heart broken. The one who was perpetually alone.” She squeezed his big hand, feeling the dense bone under his skin, a sculpture all its own. “And you … you were so gorgeous and talented. I was sure you wouldn’t think of me again. But then I thought, What if I could bring people together? Not exes, as I’d originally imagined, but people who were on the cusp of losing each other and knew what they stood to lose, unlike me. Unlike us. What if I could help people realize what they were going to be giving up if they walked away? I wanted to prevent what happened to me from happening to other people.”
“Annika,” Hudson said, his voice barely controlled, its echo a rumble in her chest. “What are you trying to say?”
“I’m trying to say I fell for you, too, Hudson Craft. I fell for you then and I fell for you now and I’m still falling.” She shook her head, her lip trembling, the tears starting to fall. “I’m in love with you.”
Suddenly he was on her side of the table, lifting her out of her chair, his hands cupping her cheeks. His mouth found hers, hungry, wanting. Annika sank into his arms, letting him dip her back, letting him in again, apologizing with her tongue, with her mouth, with her lips.
Finally, she pulled back, breathing hard. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking into his eyes. “I’m sorry for the way I’ve behaved, for the ways I’ve hurt you.”
He shook his head, the evening sunlight from the windows playing with his hair, turning it to burnished gold. “I’m sorry, too. For being a fool. For not realizing sooner that it’s you. You’re the one I love, Annika Dev. And I don’t want to be apart from you for a single minute more.”