Page 132 of Must Have Been Love

“He’s been practicing this for two days,” Autumn whispers in my ear. “I now officially hate this song.”

“I now officially love it,” I whisper.

His eyes are still trained on my face as he sings that he loves me just the way I am.

Oh god, I’m going to cry.

He’s so damn heartfelt as he gets to the chorus, like he means every word. And as he gets to the end, singing that he just wants somebody to talk to, I put my hand on my chest to still my damn beating heart.

There’s a roar as he comes to the end. I’m screaming along with them, because he was that good. I look over at Jesse and he lifts a brow.

And then Hudson’s in front of me, smiling and I’m smiling back.

“Can I take the fucking wig off now?” he asks and I start to laugh like I’m on the edge, probably because I am.

“Yes.” I nod. “Yes, you can.”

“And will you take a walk with me?” he asks, holding his hand out.

I take it, our palms pressing together as we walk out of the bar. The deck is as packed as the inside of the bar, and we have to push our way through a crowd of people to make it to the beach. It’s dark and cool, and I start to shiver.

“This is why I should be wearing a suit,” he says. “I could have given you my jacket.” He looks down. “Do you want my shirt?”

“I’m so tempted to say yes.”

He laughs softly. “Say the word and it’s yours.” He reaches out to stroke my cheek, his fingers warm against my skin. “I want you back. I’ll do whatever it takes to win you back. I’ll sing a billion more karaoke songs, dress up every single day for you.”

“Even more tempted,” I murmur. “The dressing up thing is hot.”

“Is it?” He frowns.

“No. Never do it again.”

This time we both laugh. He takes my hands in his.

“The messages on the beach?” I say. “They were you?”

“Ayda and me. Yes.”

“I liked them,” I tell him.

“Good. That was the plan. I have more.”

“Plans or lyrics?” I clarify.

“Both.”

I take a breath in an attempt to control my heart rate. “Hudson, there’s something I need to tell you. Before you say anything else.”

He turns suddenly serious. “Okay.”

This is it. I feel sick. But he has to know. I square my shoulders and look him straight in the eye. “I’m pregnant.”

Those long lashes sweep down then up again as he looks at me. “Oh thank God.”

“What?” I ask, confused.

“I thought you were going to say you’d never in a million years consider getting back with me.”

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