Make Me Yours

by Charity Ferrell

  “You’re having a pity-party before you’ve even given him time,” she argues, still concentrating on her phone.

  “Fine.” I cross my arms and pout. “Now tell me who you’re talking to.”

  “Damn, nosy.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s Brett’s cheating ass. He wants to get back together.”

  And with the mention of his name my nausea grows. “Vomit. Please tell me you’re not considering it?”

  “Hell no.” She’s still typing like she’s writing a farewell letter.

  “Then stop entertaining it,” I grumble.

  She laughs. “Let’s just say I enjoy watching him squirm.”

  “Like he squirmed his pint-sized wiener into vaginas that weren’t yours?”

  She winces at my response but keeps texting. “Pretty much.”

  “How about I help you out with that and stop you from doing something stupid.” I twist to the side in an attempt to snatch her phone from her, but she’s faster than I am.

  “Nice try. Let me have my fun. Don’t blame a girl for enjoying break-up revenge. They seem to always come back sniffing around when they realize you’re done playing their games and have moved on.”

  “If only Hudson were a douchebag like Brett.”

  She darkens her screen and slips her phone into her bag. “If that were the case, you wouldn’t be sacrificing your career over him. That was a big step, and I’m proud of you.”

  “Glad I have your support for being unemployed and single the rest of my life.” I moan out in irritation. “I need carbs. I need alcohol. I need carbs mixed with alcohol.”

  I turned my phone off after reading Dallas’ text and gave it to Willow, making her promise not to give it back under any circumstances until tomorrow morning, even if I beg or threaten to cut her hair off while she’s sleeping.

  I’m avoiding all forms of communication in petrification of what people are saying about my speech.

  “When I declared I was going off the grid, I assumed you’d do the same,” I grumble to her.

  We’re back in the hotel and lounging in my bed wearing our pajamas. It’s been three hours since I humiliated myself in front of millions of people. It’s felt like three hundred. Willow has been on her phone non-stop since we got back to the room and refuses to let me read the texts from Brett.

  She looks over at me, raising a brow, while she sits Indian style on the white sheets. “You know what they say when you assume.”

  I roll my eyes. “Whatever. You officially suck at being a heartbroken wing-woman.”

  Her face turns serious. “I’m your assistant. I have to make sure people aren’t talking too much shit about you. My mother is also texting me about your drama. I swear, that woman is more interested in your relationships than my own.” She holds her phone out to me. “If you’re so bent out of shape about it, you can text them back.”

  I wave my hand through the air when her phone beeps again. “Forget it. Go right ahead. Make that thing useful and order some food while you’re at it. I’d like alcohol and ice cream to be our guests of honor.”

  “Don’t you think you have enough here?” She jerks her head towards the bottle of vodka sitting on the nightstand. I opened it about an hour ago after throwing my shoes across the room and declaring I was swearing off men for the rest of my life. What’s better than being a heartbroken hot mess? Being a drunken and heartbroken hot mess.

  I jump up on my knees. “Oh my god! Speaking of ice cream, don’t they make some with alcohol in it now?” That’s my kind of dessert. “If you find it and get it delivered here, I will give you a raise.”

  “And you won’t bitch about me being on the phone for the rest of the night?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “Nope. Keep that thing all you want as long as alcohol and sugar come my way.”

  “Challenge accepted.”

  “Are you dead?” I stutter to Willow’s voicemail. I searched the place for my phone and found it hidden in a bathroom cabinet. “It’s been twenty-five minutes since you said you were meeting the delivery guy in the lobby. Where did you find it? Craigslist?” I slap my hand against my mouth and hiccup. “I’m a terrible person. I got my best friend murdered over ice cream desperation.”

  I continue to ramble how I’ll make sure she has a good funeral but stop when I hear the front door open. I end the call, and the phone bounces on the mattress when I drop it at the same time I slide off the bed and nearly face plant in the process of rushing into the living room.

  “Fuck Willow, why aren’t you answering your phone? I thought I was going to have to identify your body,” I screech irrationally. I’m throwing my arms in the air and dramatically stomping my feet.

  And then I skid to a sudden stop.

  My breathing restricts, like all of the air has been quickly sucked out of the room.

  Hudson is standing only a few feet away from me in a wide stance. His hands are pushed into the front pockets of his ripped jeans as his whiskey-colored eyes stare into mine with uncertainty. I rub my eyes, certain the alcohol is toying with my mind.

  “Your bodyguard needs fired,” is his icebreaker.

  I relax at the sound of his gentle voice. He’s not angry or here to yell at me for wronging him. He’s here to be the Hudson I fell in love with – the rough on the outside man who opened up his softer side to me.

  “It’s hard finding someone as skilled as you,” I whisper, stumbling over my words.

  What does this mean? Is he here to ask me not to talk about him in public … or did my speech change something?

  I run my hands down my tangled hair. It’s not how I’d planned on seeing him in our moment of reconciliation, but it’s how he prefers me, so I don’t need to stress about it. He appreciates the real me – not my money, my fame, or how I look after my glam-squad spends an hour with me.

  I don’t move when he takes a step closer. “I had a guy’s night tonight,” he tells me.

  I look around in confusion. “Okay?”

  “And we ended up watching some awards show.”

  I cover my face in humiliation. “Please tell me you turned the channel before they announced best couple?”

  He grins wildly. “But that was my favorite part, Princess.”

  I move my hand, revealing a timid smile. “So it worked?”

  He takes another step. We’re only arms-length away from each other. “It brought me here.”

  “So is that a yes?”

  He takes that last stride, stopping in front of me, and grabs my hand. I stagger a bit when he leads me over to the sofa and sits us down so we’re facing each other.

  “I know you’re probably pissed at me, and you have every right to be,” he says. I flinch. Me pissed at him? I was the one who chose my career over us. “It was killing me watching you pretend to be with another man. Fucking killing me,” he stresses, his face turning grim. “Even though it’s one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to make, there was no choice for me but to let you go.”

  I clutch at my chest. “But I was yours! I told you that. I wanted nothing more than to be yours! I didn’t want Eli. I wanted you!” My eyes start to water, and I can feel the tears ready to unveil.

  “Actions speak louder than words, and your actions were playing the fake girlfriend of another man. I couldn’t even touch the woman I loved in public.” His chin starts to tremble. “When those pictures of us leaked, even though I never wanted it to happen, I thought that maybe it was a good thing – maybe you’d be honest and choose us. But you didn’t. Instead, you fled and left me hanging out to rot like the bad guy – like I was treading on some other dude’s woman when in actuality it was my heart getting stomped on.”

  “I know, and I’m so sorry! I had too many people wanting too many things from me.” My buzz is beginning to wear off.

  “All I wanted from you was to choose me. You can have your career. You can have the life you want. I want you to always be happy and to let me be a part of that happiness. I wante
d to hear you say those words, Stella! I wanted to hear, to feel, that you were falling in love with me as much as I was you.”

  Whoa. My heart starts to race. “And I fucking love you! I realized I couldn’t lose you, and in case you missed it, I did in front of millions of people. If you don’t believe what I said was true, turn on the TV, log onto the internet, rewatch it. You can see I want no one but you.”

  I should’ve figured this would happen. I was naïve thinking he’d watch my speech and come here to sweep me off my feet, shower me with kisses, smack my ass while making love – not arguing back and forth. That’s what my ex would do. We’d fight and then sweep it underneath the rug. But that’s not Hudson. He makes you reach deep inside yourself before giving you what you need.

  “I saw it. It’s not that I don’t believe you. What I’m trying to say is that even though I appreciate the gesture, that’s not what I needed.”

  “What did you need then?” I ask, confused.

  “For you to choose me and not make me share.” He looks down at the floor and shakes his head. “Maybe I was wrong. Perhaps I should’ve given you more time. I don’t know where we went wrong or what could’ve changed the outcome. All I know is I’m here to say I’m sorry.”

  His head slides back up, and he looks at me when I take his hand in mine. “And I want to do the same. I’m sorry for everything. I’ve been doing some soul-searching.”

  He chuckles. “With the help of alcohol I’m assuming?”

  I narrow my eyes his way. “Hey! I’m not perfect.”

  He squeezes my hand and brushes his thumb along the edge. “I’m not expecting you to be. I mean, technically, you’re perfect in my eyes. But in reality and relationships, perfection is unrealistic. All I’m asking from you is honesty and loyalty. I can deal with any other bullshit thrown our way. I promise to give you the same.” His other hand reaches out, and he uses his thumb to wipe my tears away. “And I sure as fuck don’t want to make you cry.”

  I point to my face. “Tears of joy. I promise.”

  He brushes a tangled strand of hair away from my face. “And drunkenness, which is why I think we need to stop any other serious conversations for tonight. I want you sober when we figure things out.”

  I perk up. “You’re going to stay, though?”

  He nods. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  I grin. He grins.

  I’m drunk and love struck. Nothing else matters at this moment but the two of us. Not what other people think. Not the consequences of my speech. Nothing.

  “It’s just you and me, babe,” he goes on, pulling me into his arms. I make myself comfortable with my back against his hard chest and relax. He feathers his fingers down my arm. “You want to know one of the biggest things I’ve missed about us?”

  I peek back at him. “The blowjobs?”

  He chuckles. “Yes, I’ve definitely missed those, but most of all I’ve missed sharing a bed with you and seeing you first thing in the morning. I don’t know how, but you shine a light on my flashbacks and nightmares. I don’t feel anything but happiness when you’re in my arms.”

  I tilt my head back, and he moves in to press his lips against mine. Our mouths linger over each other’s before we separate. I’ve missed this so much. Nothing compares to being in his arms. “And I feel nothing but happiness when I’m there. You make me feel like I’m enough, like no matter what mistakes or decisions I make, I won’t lose you.”

  We’re sitting in silence and taking our conversation in when something hits me.

  “Uh … has anyone seen Willow?” I ask, looking around.

  “Her and Dallas are grabbing a bite to eat,” he answers. “I booked her a room so we could talk.”

  Thank God. I raise my brow. “Talk, eh?”

  “Trust me, there will be much more than talking in the morning. I’ll be giving you speeches with my tongue between your legs as my breakfast.”

  I shiver. “I have something to look forward to. Hopefully it cures hangovers.”

  He chuckles. “If not, we can try other ideas.”

  “I like the sound of that, and before I forget to ask, you said Willow and Dallas are grabbing a bite to eat. He’s here?”

  “He decided to come with me. It’ll be good for him to get out of town. I know people mean well, but they’re still dropping off condolences pies and flowers. It’s tearing him apart.”

  “I agree. Willow is probably giving him a tour and forcing him to try every food truck. She loves this city. I take it this was planned and everyone was in on it but me?”

  “After I saw your speech, I texted Willow that I needed to see you. I asked her not to ruin the surprise.”

  Hell, this was a set-up. She wasn’t texting douchebag Brett. Her sneaky-ass was texting Hudson. I can’t believe she didn’t hide the alcohol from me if she knew he was coming. I’m sure it would’ve looked very suspect had she taken the liquor from me. Her sneakiness has made me goddamn happy, so I guess she’ll get a raise and new puppy or something.

  “Tillie, Tillie, Tillie, my mom, my sister,” I’m reading off the list of voicemails on my phone. It’s morning, but the sun isn’t blessing me with its presence thanks to the thick curtains. My brain is playing ping-pong with my skull. “Reporter. TMZ. Reporter. Buzzfeed. Tillie. My manager.” I sigh, tossing my phone on the floor. “It might be time I change my number.”

  “Or block Tillie from it,” Hudson says, lifting himself up with his elbow and resting his chin in his palm, smiling down at me.

  My skin tingles. Him first waking up in the morning is my favorite time with him. Okay, well with the exception of when any part of his body is between my legs. His hair is a tousled mess, his gaze on me is gentle, and his skin is warm to the touch. He tilts his head forward to brush his lips along the tip of my nose.

  “I’ll bet my best pair of blue jeans that woman has been searching these streets looking for you and punching homeless men in the face with fury when they tell her they haven’t seen you,” he adds. “We need to come up with a plan on how to handle her.”

  “Luckily Willow has already emailed my attorney in case she tries to sue me and take my first born.” She not only has my back personally but professionally as well. She was jumping with glee when I told her about my speech idea. She pulled out her phone and immediately began drafting an email for my attorney, waiting to hit send until it actually happened. Willow might be little, but the chick gets shit done.

  “Don’t you mean our first born?” he corrects, giving me a playful grin.

  I swear on everything, that sentence shoots a bright spark right through my veins, waking my ass up. Bring on the sunshine. I suddenly feel rejuvenated, at the top of the world, and am on the verge of jumping up and performing a happy dance. I know I thought I’d be a bad mom, but with Hudson by my side, I think I’ll be fine, and there’s no doubt he’d be an amazing father. He’s perfect with Maven.

  I can already imagine it.

  Hell yes, I can see Hudson being more than just my baby daddy. I can see him being my husband, a good one, someone I can trust with my life and happiness.

  I stare up at him, our gazes meeting, and I can feel my smile growing. “Yes, let me correct myself. Our first born.” I’m not a giddy person. What the fuck has he done to me?

  “Just wanted to clarify,” he says, his grin matching mine. I shudder when his fingers dance over my arm. “Now that we’ve had the children talk, how about we rewind and have the pre-baby talk?”

  He stayed true to his word last night. We didn’t have a big relationship conversation. He made me drink plenty of water, told me to make myself comfortable in his arms on the couch, and we watched TV until I dosed off. He then carried me to bed and tucked me in. Yesterday started out in hell and ended up in heaven.

  And all of that is about to get washed away when we start bringing up plans, compromises, and the miles that separate us.

  Why can’t we skip the serious relationship questions?

&nb
sp; Love … that’s why.

  It always seems to make everything so damn complicated.

  He laughs when I groan. “We held off until you were sober, which you are now, so where should we start?”

  I sit up. “I can change that. I didn’t get a chance to drain the bar last night.”

  He stops me from sliding out of bed. “Nice try.” I frown, and his tone turns serious. Not stern-like, but more like a straight to business voice. “What’s the next step?”

  I pull in and then slowly release a breath. “I think I want to take some time off,” I answer, timidly glancing over at him. “I thought I could maybe stay in Iowa with you.”

  My idea catches him off guard, and his response does the same to me. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t want you to change and completely uproot your life. You love acting. It’s in your heart. I can’t possibly ask you to give it all up and move to Bluebeech. You wouldn’t be happy.”

  I hold my hand out to stop him. “I’m not saying I want to retire or start raising cattle. I’ve been thinking about taking a break for awhile now because I haven’t found a role I’ve liked yet. I’ll have my manager keep an eye out for anything that would catch my interest.” I snuggle in closer to him. “Meanwhile, I’d like to get out of the spotlight for awhile.”

  “You promise? I don’t want you to make this decision because you think it’s what I want. We can work something out. California isn’t my ideal home, but I would move there if it meant being with you. Hell, I’d be happy anywhere if you’re by my side.”

  “Me too, which is why I want us to try Iowa out. Just for awhile.”

  He leans down and nudges my nose with his. “Privacy does sound pretty damn good.”

  I grin against his lips. “Doesn’t it?”

  “Just promise me one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “If you don’t like it, you’ll tell me.”

  “I promise.” I scoot in closer, tangling my legs into his. “Now I believe you also made some promises last night. Something about helping me with my hangover? How about you let me clear my head by giving me some?”