by Clara Stone
I pause for a second, absorbing the image of the broad-shouldered, over six-feet-tall Hudson straddling a chimp on the merry-go-round. I stifle a laugh and quickly switch my top.
“So, what are you doing here? On a Sunday?”
“Huh?” Hope says, still looking at the picture of Mom and me.
What is so enthralling that she can’t put it down?
“Thought we could hang,” she says.
I’m startled. Dumbfounded. At a complete loss for words.
Hope looks at me and laughs. “Oh, don’t look so shocked, Blake,” she says, jumping off my unkempt bed and sauntering over. “I like you.”
I don’t want to be rude, so I let silence force her to talk first. I have places to be, and things to do that don’t involve hanging around with a girl I barely know. I’m supposed to be at the soup kitchen by nine.
“Look.” She fidgets like she’s uncomfortable. How could I, me, make her uncomfortable? “The thing is . . .” She pauses again.
This time, I do laugh at the way she looks so nervous and unsure of herself. What little I do know of Hope is that she’s never nervous and very confident. “Just spit it out.”
“Hudson likes you.”
Um . . . okay?
She looks into my eyes, so sincere and . . . and hopeful? “He likes you, likes you, Blake.” She crisscrosses her fingers together in front of her stomach and looks at them before dragging her eyes back to me. “And I like you too.”
Again, I think: okay?
“Did Hudson send you or something?” I ask, suspicious.
“No. He doesn’t know that I’m here. But since I have a special interest in you, and so does he, I thought I would swing by to convince you to join the two of us.”
My dirty mind takes over. Since our short, steamy, unforgettable kiss, it has refused to get out of the gutter anytime I think or hear “Hudson.” And this time is no different.
I take a step back, raising my hands. “Hey, yeah . . . um, look, Hope, I’m not into whatever it is you and Hudson are into.”
She looks at me, her perfect eyebrows fused, and her head tilted to the side. Confused.
I try a different approach. “I’m really honored that both of you ‘like’ me, but I don’t. . .” How do I say it without sounding insulting? “But, uh . . . I don’t do the whole three’s company thing, you know?”
Now she looks completely confused.
Oh, what the hell. I might as well just say it. “I’m not into threesomes, or whatever it is you’re trying to propose,” I blurt as quickly as I can, feeling my temperature rise to sizzling hot.
Her eyebrows shoot up, disappearing under her bangs, and her eyes widen in true, utter surprise. Or maybe mortification. “Wait. You think . . . ? Oh, gawd!” She starts to laugh, throwing her head back. “Oh. My. Gawd!” She’s laughing so hard she snorts, which makes her laugh even more. “Blake. Oh,” she says, holding her stomach. “This, I gotta tell Hudson.”
“So, you weren’t proposing—”
“Hell no!” She wipes tears from the corners of her eyes with her index finger, still laughing hard. “Besides, even if I did propose a threesome, I don’t think Hudson would ever share you with anyone else. Including me.”
“But . . .” I scratch my head, utterly lost for words.
“Look,” Hope says. “Let me start from the beginning. I like you because you’re pretty much the only girl that’s ever left him stunned speechless. Then, as that first week went on, I liked you even more, because you couldn’t care less about who he is, or what he’s worth.” She looks at me thoughtfully. “Apart from me, I don’t think there’s ever been anyone that appreciates Hudson for who he is. But with you, I can tell you don’t care about his money, or prestige. And he’s different around you. Ya know?”
“Probably afraid of my next prank attack.” I shrug.
“See, that’s the thing. He’s not the type to prank. But after barely a week with him, you had my boy acting like a five-year-old looking to pull the pig-tails of the girl in the sandbox that refused to let him play.”
Wait, so . . .
“I know this is weird.”
“I think we’re beyond weird at this point, don’t you?” I retort.
“Fair enough,” she agrees. “Look, I’m not trying to set you two up or anything. Okay, maybe that isn’t completely true. But I also have an ulterior motive. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a friend that isn’t Hudson, or a girl who’s trying to get into his pants.” She sighs. “And since, you know, we kinda clicked, I thought I’d try to get to know you better.”
Just like that? Out of the blue?
“I mean, how big of a coincidence was it that we met you in the mall when we never saw you there before?”
“Ah—”
“Ex-actly. I know there are coincidences in life. But us meeting you, wasn’t one of them. I think it’s fate.”
She grins, and I don’t know how to read it. She just told me things that I’d never in a million years share with anyone. And I don’t know if the wise choice is to run the other way, or stay put. She doesn’t have any friends? And she doesn’t think I want into Hudson’s pants? Before I embarrass myself further, I push that thought away. “Um . . . okay.”
“So,” she extends her hand, “friends?”
She’s probably the weirdest girl I’ve ever met. But I guess I’ll take weird over anything else. “Friends,” I say with a smile.
“MOMMY . . . MOMMY . . .”
A soothing voice floats after me. I turn around, looking through pools of kids running around. The call sounds again and I follow it, heading toward the monkey bars, my steps tentative. A fluttery movement has my heart beating faster. I place my hand over my tummy as a smile pushing its way forward.
From between the children, a girl appears, a bright smile on her face, her eyes bright and expectant. When her gaze connects with mine, she runs toward me, her arms extended forward. Emotions tighten around my throat as I watch my daughter run toward me, her waist-length curly brown hair bouncing behind her.
I fall to my knees with a hand over my mouth. When she barrels into me, her arms wrap around me in a vice grip, and I choke out a sob.
“Mommy . . .” She pulls back, looking at me, her huge chocolate eyes filled with so much emotion. “I love you, Mommy.”
I gasp, my eyes flying open I cradle my hand around the oncoming contraction. It’s small and nearly pain free, but still very uncomfortable.
“Baby.” I hear my mom’s voice before her hand covers mine, resting on my tummy. “Breathe, baby. Breathe.”
“Mom?” I huff a deep breath, feeling the contraction ease.
“Yeah, I’m here.” She smiles down at me, her hand caressing my hair. “You okay? Should I get the nurse, or Hudson?”
I shake my head. “When did you get here? And where did Hudson go?”
She pulls up the chair and sits, my hand cupped between hers. “I got here about five minutes ago, and I told Hudson to go take a break, freshen up. That boy looked like he was going to cry.” She laughs.
I smile at that. Hudson never was good with seeing me in pain, no matter how miniscule. “I’m sorry, Mom, for cutting your vacation short.”
“It’s my honor to be here for the birth of my grandchild.” She pats my hand.
“You’re going to have a granddaughter, Mom. I know it. I feel it.” I rub my hand on my belly, and Sparkler moves, like she’s responding to my touch.
She nods. “A third generation of Voss girls. How are you feeling, baby?”
Now that’s a million dollar question. I cast my eyes toward my stomach, caressing the round globe with my hand over and over again. A pinch of guilt and fear courses through me.
“It’s okay to be scared, you know,” Mom says with a sigh when I don’t respond. “I was scared out of my mind until the second before I had you in my arms. Then . . . well, then I fell in love all over again, and the fear, sadness, everything that’s negative jus
t kinda went out the door. All I knew was how to love you.”
“You were scared?” I ask, raising my eyes to meet her gaze. I would never have guessed.
“Of course!” She laughs, softly. “Which new mom wouldn’t be? To tell you the truth, I had one of those crazy pregnancies where I was a complete emotional train wreck. Everything made me happy, and everything made me sad.”
I adjust in place, needing to take some pressure off my lower back. “Really?”
“Ah-huh. And I even went through some postpartum depression.”
I feel my eyes widen at this. My mom, who, even through the shittiest parts of life was strong and so put together, had experienced an emotional breakdown?
“It’s not as uncommon as you think. Having a baby changes you, Blake. Emotionally, physically, and mentally. So it’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to cry, and it’s okay to feel like you want to eat all the ice cream in the world.”
“Okay,” I whisper. I felt like I would be a sorry excuse of a mom for being scared. I mean, people have been giving birth since the dawn of time without medical assistance, and yet here I am, with all the advancements of modern medicine at my fingertips, worried and scared.
“What is it, baby girl?” Mom asks, squeezing my hand.
I shake my head. “It’s stupid.”
“No. Talk to me. Remember, we always talk.”
I bite my lip, hesitant, not wanting to put myself out there, front and center, as the nominee for Worst Mom in the World. But when I look at my mom, with those loving, expectant eyes, I know I need to talk to her. I take a deep breath and voice all my thoughts in a jumble. “I don’t think I can do this, Mom. I’m so scared of giving birth and being a mom. What if something goes wrong between now and when she comes . . . and what about after? What if I can’t take care of her, or drop her, or sleep through the night and forget to feed her—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa . . .” Mom says, standing up and leaning into me. “Take a deep breath,” she instructs.
I do.
“First of all, these emotions you’re going through, I’ve been through ALL of them. And you turned out okay, I think. And if I can do it, baby, you can too. You’re stronger than I was, smarter than I was, and much more experienced in life, with a husband that’d do anything to make you happy. And if all else fails, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, and I’ll be with you for however long you want me. Promise.”
“Mom—”
“I know things might seem scary, and they will be at the beginning, but from the moment she’s placed in your arms, your world will change. You’ll want to think about all the ways to keep her safe, not just now, or in a hour . . . but tomorrow, a year from now, ten years . . .” She places her hand over my cheek and smiles lovingly. “I remember the day you were born like it was yesterday. I remember every insecurity I felt, and the strength and will to keep you safe that increased a thousand fold after you arrived. It’s that promise that got me, us, through everything. And if you’re my daughter, which you are, I know you’ll be a great mom. I trust you. Hudson trusts you. Now, just try to trust yourself, hmm . . . ?”
I give her a tight-lipped smile. I know what she’s saying, and I want to believe that. But the closer I’m getting, the more restless and anxious I become. I want to do so many things for my daughter, but I don’t know if I can. Every emotion, from fear to happiness, is magnified. Maybe Mom’s right. I just—I just need to relax. I take a deep breath.
“Good,” Mom encourages. “Good girl.”
I close my eyes. “I feel tired, Mom.”
She kisses my forehead. “I’ll be right here, baby. Get some more rest. You’ve got some time before you meet your daughter.”
My daughter. It feels surreal to say that. The image of the girl in my dream comes to mind. As I concentrate on that beautiful cherub face, I make myself relax and give her a promise, my hand resting on my stomach: I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe, baby girl. I’ll always protect you. Always.
“THANKS, MOM,” I SAY, SARCASM oozing out of me. I wipe the corner of my mouth with my finger and lick it. Hope glares at me, but I don’t care. I refuse to let the sauce go to waste. “Damn, Hope. This is some good stuff.”
Harrington and Heath seem to agree too. They’ve been awfully quiet for the last five minutes, and for them, that’s a lot. I glance over my shoulder and read the name on the truck: “Bob’s Burgers.”
“How the hell did you find this place? It’s not even in the same part of town.”
It’s fifty miles from our place and is set a few yards back from the ocean, in the perfect beachfront location. The smell of the sea—salty and earthy—fills my nostrils, and a cool breeze floats through the air. It’s heavenly. Much like this burger.
Hope smiles secretly, but doesn’t answer. And honestly, I really don’t care how she found it. I’m just pissed I’ve missed out on this for the past eighteen years.
Lucky bastards, I think, looking at my brothers.
“Hudson,” Heath says, tugging at my sleeve. He looks as messy as I feel. “I want another hamburger.”
I pull a twenty out of my pocket and slap it on the table. But before Heath can grab it, Harrington swipes it away. He jumps up quickly and runs, yelling, “Loser!” at Heath and giggling. I sometimes wonder if these two will manage to live past twenty.
Heath looks pissed, his eyebrows scrunching together. Being the youngest, he’s the target of Harrington’s harassment, and often.
“Harry!” Heath yells, taking off after him, using all the strength his six-year-old legs can muster.
I shake my head and drag my attention back to the remnants of my burger. I’ll deal with annoying brats later. Much. Much. Later. “Deal” in this case pretty much equates to pulling Harrington into a headlock and making him say he won’t be an ass to Heath. Again. For the millionth time.
The breeze from the ocean whips across my face as I finish my last three bites. It’s perfect. Peaceful. Things have been hard these last three years. Dad’s practically poured himself into his work since losing Mom, and the responsibility of taking care of my brothers has fallen solely on me. I try to set a good example for them, but sometimes, it’s rough. Having Hope around definitely helps, though. Especially with Heath.
“Well, hell-oo,” Hope says, bringing me back to the present.
I look at her. She’s got her eyebrows raised as high as they’ll go. “A little late for a greeting, don’t ya think?”
“Not you, dork.” She jerks her chin toward something behind me.
Putting my last curly fry down, I place my elbows on the table and throw a glance over my shoulder. It takes me less than a second to spot her. I nearly punch myself in the face as my elbow slips.
Blake.
Holy. Shit.
My mouth dries. The last four weeks haven’t done justice to how absolutely stunning she is. I haven’t stopped thinking about her, wondering and imagining her soft red lips pressed against mine. I considered stopping by her place or school, fabricating a whole slew of false reasons for my visit—since I was stupid enough to leave without asking for her number that night—but I . . . I just couldn’t. It felt too stalkerish, and . . . well, I didn’t want to scare the hell out of her. Plus, Dad’s kept me all but locked away recently, meeting with multiple board members and various financial advisors that are supposed to help me set up investment accounts for a future I’m not even thinking about yet. It’s been exhausting. But still, nothing should have kept me away from her for this long. Dreams can’t compare to the way she looks in reality.
She’s wearing cut-off shorts and a black corset-type thing under a red-and-black checkered-flannel button-up. The shirt is tied off on the bottom right-hand side, leaving a strip of skin between her top and the band of her shorts. I drag my gaze from her swaying hips toward her face . . . and realize I’ve been caught staring at her and her mile-long legs.
My breath catches as her eyes connect with mine. I totally could
have imagined it, but when her step falters, I can’t help but smile, a little. Slowly, carefully, I turn back to face Hope, whose face is lit up bright, her grin so wide, she looks like the Cheshire cat.
“Hope . . .” I draw out her name. “Please tell me you have nothing to do with her being here.”
I don’t know if I’d kiss her or dig a grave to bury her in.
“I have nothing to do with this,” she says, in that way that guarantees she did. She flips her hair—which she only does when she’s gone and stuck her hands into something she shouldn’t have—solidifying my doubts to one hundred and twenty gazillion percent.
I groan.
“Cheer up, golden boy. Would I ever do anything to put you in harm’s way?”
I narrow my eyes. “Did you just call me ‘golden boy’?” Un-freaking-believable. And I don’t even want to touch that statement about putting me in harm’s way. How many ways shall I count? Psycho Cathy, Molest Celeste, Pervy Pammy, those are just a few of the specimens Hope’s matchmaking has subjected me to in the last six months.
“Hi.” Blake’s voice rushes over me like a cool breeze across the Sahara.
Oooh, shit. I didn’t expect to miss her voice. When did I start taking estrogen pills?
Get your shit together, Hudson.
Taking a deep breath, I turn around and put on a huge smile. “Heya, Blake.” Thank God, my voice is steady. At least I managed to keep my manhood intact.
She smiles, the corners of her lip twitching.
“Oh, hey, look!” Hope says. I whip my head around to watch her shoot out of her seat and toward my brothers.
“Harm’s way, my ass,” I mumble.
“So.” Blake slides in next to me. Our bodies are still a few inches apart, but she may as well be sitting in my lap, because suddenly, I’m feeling all sorts of flushed.
Ladies and gentlemen, Hudson Lovelly has a freaking crush.
“Did she coax you into coming?” Blake asks.
I feel my forehead tighten in confusion.