Page 67 of Must Have Been Love

He lifts a brow. Okay then.

“I thought you were going to feed me,” I say, changing the subject as I lean forward to grab the cooler. He snatches it from me and starts to get the food out, like he’s affronted that I should lift a finger on this date.

I watch, my stomach rumbling, as he lifts out the Tupperware containers full of food.

This time it’s true picnic fare. Sandwiches and cut up veggies plus some potato chips.

“Did you make this picnic?” I ask him, because it doesn’t look like restaurant food. I’m surprised that he had time. Not that I care, I love proper picnics. Finger food is my jam.

“Some of it.” He shrugs, like he’s embarrassed. But the truth is, I like it. He surprises me in the weirdest of ways. He’s like an iceberg, so much of him is beneath the surface. And I want to dive down to discover it.

“That explains it,” I say, taking a bite of an egg sandwich. “You’ve brought me here to poison me and get rid of my body. Nice work.”

* * *

We spend the next hour eating sandwiches and tiny cakes and talking. Hudson adds the occasional log onto the fire when it starts to wane, and I try not to fangirl over what a great fire tender he is.

The night starts to come in, the inky blue of the sky turns the ocean a dark gray, though the tips are still white as they kiss against the shore.

“Okay, this is what I really brought you here to see,” Hudson says, when we’ve finished our food and the dishes are packed away. “Come here.”

“I knew it,” I say. And let’s be honest, I’m ready for a bit of bedless sex with the suave businessman who apparently could come in handy when Armageddon hits. “Wait, let me rinse my mouth out with some water. I taste of egg salad sandwiches.”

He shakes his head and pulls me toward him, but instead of kissing me, he pulls me down until my back is against the sand, and he’s laying prone too, both of us staring up at the sky.

My mouth drops open when I see what he’s talking about. There are a billion stars sparkling against the velvety black of the sky above us. It looks like a black velvet pincushion with a light shining behind it, through the tiny holes in the heavens.

“Keep watching,” he murmurs. “I used to see shooting stars all the time when I was a kid.”

“You used to lay here like this?” I ask, still staring up at the sky above us. My fingertips brush against his and he slides his hand into mine.

“Sometimes.”

“I used to as well,” I say, surprised because this is probably the one thing we have in common. “Not here, of course. Back in California. I loved being outside at night. Looking at the stars somehow made me feel less alone.”

His thumb brushes against my hand, sending a little jolt of electricity through me.

“Wait, there!” he says urgently, pointing up with his free hand. I follow the direction, seeing a flash of light sliding against the sky, then disappearing.

“Oh my God,” I say, my eyes lighting up with excitement. “We should make a wish.”

“What kind of wish?” he murmurs.

“I don’t know. One we can’t tell each other or it won’t come true.”

“Okay.” His voice is thick.

For a minute we’re both silent. I stare up, my brows knitting as I send my wish up into the sky.

I hope Ayda Fitzgerald can learn to talk again.

I don’t know where that came from. I could have wished for anything. For Lee and Cora to be happy, for the bar to be renovated in half the time. But somehow it came into my head and now there it is, out in the heavens.

When I turn my head Hudson is staring right at me, his gaze so intense it makes my body feel like it’s on fire. I roll onto my side and kiss him hard, my fingers twisting into his hair.

And when we part there’s darkness in his eyes. “What was that for?” he murmurs.

“For showing me a shooting star.”

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