Page 70 of That Time I Kissed My Beachfront Boss

“Wasn’t my best day ever,” he says, and I nod again, not like I’m agreeing with his assessment. More like I’m encouraging him to keep sharing.

“She packed a suitcase and moved to a hotel,” he continues. “Eventually she left the country, and she’s been living in Europe ever since. There are plenty of galleries right here in New York, but she couldn’t wait to put distance between us. Turns out art is her real true love. We were just a distraction.” His brow drops. “To this day, my dad hardly ever talks about her, but I follow the news enough to get the gist of what she’s doing.”

Arranging my face into as blank a slate as possible, I ask, “Did she ever have you visit or come to see you after that?”

“Once at Christmas. It was awful. I couldn’t wait to get back to school and act like she didn’t exist again.” He pauses, swallows. “She still sends money on my birthday. Like a guilty offering or something. Like she still sees me as a kid she can buy off. And since I know how she feels about the day I was born, the money just hurts more than anything.”

I think about the birthday Hudson just had. He didn’t say a word until afterward.

He celebrated alone.

“Even before she moved out,” he says, “she was always in her studio working, and I’d be by myself watching TV and playing video games. After she left, my dad didn’t know what to do with me. He had this eight-year-old son, plus a broken heart, and no idea how to deal with either one. So he sent me to boarding school. When I was home, a string of nannies would take care of me. I was a pretty lonely kid for a lot of years. So when you talk about your house being too crowded, or about wanting some space to call your own, all I can think is how lucky you are to have a big family.”

I nod. “And I always thought being an only child would be amazing.”

He flashes a grim smile. “So that’s my story,” he says. “I never had to tell the truth to anyone from school, because I left for college and never looked back.”

I let out a gust of air. “I can relate to that, for sure.”

“See?” His shoulders hitch. “Like I said. You’re easy to talk to.”

“So you don’t have any extended family, then? No grandparents? Cousins? Aunts or uncles?”

“Nah.” Hudson works his jaw. “Just me and my dad. He tried his best, but he was completely unprepared to be a single father.”

I tip my head. “I mean, is anyone prepared for that? If you ask Mac—who’s not even single anymore—he’d probably tell you he’s still unprepared. And my dad would’ve been a completely different parent if he didn’t have my mom.” A sigh slips out of me. “He’s been gone for years now, and it’s still hard on her. I think we’re all probably just a little bit messier than anybody else ever knows.” I meet his gaze. “That’s why I’m pretty sure I’d be a terrible mother.”

He blinks at me like he’s bewildered. “You?”

“Mmhmm.” My lips press together. “I watched my mom sacrifice everything for her kids. Her entire life was one big compromise. It still is now, for Big Mama. And I’m not saying what your mother did was right, but I don’t think I could be as selfless as my mom is, either.”

“So you have a mother who’s too good to be true, and you feel like you can’t live up to her legacy. I’ve got a mother who was so bad, I feel like I never want to try.”

“That’s the nutshell version, I guess.”

His face slips into a crooked smile. “We’re a pretty sad lot, huh?”

“Or maybe we’re just smart.”

“Sure.” He nods. “Let’s go with smart.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

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Chapter Twenty-Six

Hudson

If I had any doubts about the wisdom of Olivia’s plan, they’ve been thoroughly erased.

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