Page 22 of Must Have Been Love

“Ugh, I knew he didn’t.” Her brows knit. “He’s such an ass.”

“Honestly, he did,” I say quickly, because if there’s one thing I don’t want it’s to bring Hudson Fitzgerald’s fury down on me once again.

I like Autumn. She’s funny and chatty and so easy to get along with. It’s not her fault her brother is a grade A dick.

“He better have,” she says grimly. “I do a lot for that man. He owes me.”

“Do you watch Ayda a lot?” I ask, changing the subject because I really don’t want to talk about her brother anymore. Every time I think of him I break out in hives.

“Yeah,” she says, a soft smile pulling at her face. “We all try to help out. When Hudson isn’t in meetings he has her with him. And she has tutoring a couple of times a week.”

“She’s so young for that,” I say.

“She’s almost six,” Autumn says. “Most kids her age are at school. And Hudson’s determined that her lack of talking won’t hold her back.” That soft smile is still there. Another thing we have in common, we’re both doting aunties.

“Is that where she is today?”

“Oh no.” Autumn shakes her head, nodding to the dock. “They’re heading out on the ferry, see? It’s her therapy day. She and Hudson go to the mainland for it once a week. They dropped me off here on the way.”

I follow the direction of Autumn’s gaze, to the Liberty Ferry at the end of the jetty, where Hudson is climbing out of the expensive car parked at the back, all black shiny metal and gleaming grilles. He lifts Ayda out of the backseat, swinging her into his arms and making her laugh loudly.

And then he laughs too and I swear my heart stops.

Hudson Fitzgerald knows how to laugh?Seriously? I wasn’t even sure he knew how to smile.

But that’s all I see because the next minute the boat is revving up, the crew untying the ropes and taking their positions.

I let out a long breath, wondering what I’ve got myself into by coming to Liberty. It’s an island full of secrets. Twins who don’t talk to each other, a little girl who doesn’t talk at all, and the most attractive man I think I’ve ever laid eyes on who only scowls whenever I’m around.

And then there’s my dad. The reason I’m here, even though I have no idea why he was so insistent I stay.

Maybe I shouldn’t have come. I’m not sure anymore.

* * *

HUDSON

“Do you really think this party is a good idea?”

Dr. Methi, the psychiatrist who’s been monitoring Ayda since we came back from England and moved to Liberty, lifts a brow at me. He practices on the mainland, in a pristine office at the top of a shiny steel-and-glass building overlooking the water.

“As I told your sister, I think it’s a wonderful idea,” he tells me. Nothing phases this man. Not Ayda still remaining mute after months of therapy. Or my outbursts when we’re alone because I’m so damn frustrated that nothing is helping.

Today’s session has followed the usual pattern. Ayda and I come in and either color together or play with Legos at the center of Dr. Methi’s office as he talks to us. Then he focuses on Ayda for thirty minutes, where he interacts with her and asks her to point at pictures to show her emotions.

And then she gets sent out to color with his assistant while I sit here and am grilled about how my week has gone, because he has some stupid idea that I need therapy as much as Ayda.

The first week we came I tried to leave at this point, but he insisted that he couldn’t treat her without treating me. If I wanted her to keep coming here I had no choice but to comply. He’s the most highly recommended child trauma specialist within a thousand mile radius. My daughter will always get the best.

“I did have one thought though,” Dr. Methi says, steepling his fingers so the tips are all touching.

I look at him like a drowning man looks at a life raft. “That we should do it next year instead?” I hate parties. I hate small talk and I hate having to be nice to people I don’t like and I particularly loathe dealing with people who’ve been drinking too much.

And yeah, this is a kid’s party, but I know that Autumn wants to invite adults too. I already saw a charge on my card for ten crates of wine.

He laughs like I’m joking. “No, this year is good. I just think you should be the one to go with Ayda to hand out invitations.”

He has to be joking. “I’m too busy. Autumn can do that.” It’s her damn idea after all. The least she could do is help Ayda decide who’s coming to this hellish gathering.

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