Page 90 of Here's to Tomorrow

“I’m in love.”

“I know. Tell me what else is bothering you.”

I sit up quickly and squint at Haley. “Wait, how doyouknow?”

“I’m not blind. I see the way your face lights up when you get one of those weird texts from him. Your eyes glow whenever you talk about him or his kid,” she says. “I’m still surprised by that, by the way.”

“Word.”

“And because you’re just…happier. I know you, Rae. In the twenty-two—almost twenty-three—years we’ve been beside one another, I’ve never seen you this happy. Ever.”

“That’s because I haven’t been.”

“And how are you sleeping? Still having the nightmare?” she asks, concern evident in her voice.

Something occurs to me that hasn’t until now: my nightmare has stopped. I haven’t had one in weeks—not since those three weeks after my car broke down. More specifically, not since the Wednesday Hudson and I had our first official date at his house.

“Holy shit.” I gasp, my eyes going wide. “It stopped again.”

Hudson is my miracle worker.

A slow smile forms on Haley’s face. “Told ya.”

I groan at her smugness and throw a pillow in her face.

* * *

I pull into what I assume is Hudson’s new driveway, shut my car off, and look up at the house. The first word that pops into my head iscozy. The brick and white siding is inviting, and when you add in the partial wraparound porch, neatly trimmed bushes, and freshly cut lawn, it screamsfamily.It’s just what I pictured for Hudson and Joey.

I step out of the car and smooth out my orange skirt on unsteady legs, suddenly nervous about this date I’ve been looking forward to all week long. It’s silly, because it’s just Hudson, but I know—I know—this date means more than all our others have.

Hudson comes walking out of the house in a sinfully sexy pair of jeans and dark blue button-up shirt as I’m walking up the small driveway. I can already feel the sexual tension between us.

“You found it. Excellent.” He smiles, taking my hand and guiding me inside. I’m hit with the smell of whatever it is he’s made for dinner. It smells like Mexican, and I fucking love Mexican.

He takes my coat, leaving me in my thin white tank top. He places a small kiss on my now exposed shoulder. “You look gorgeous,” he says softly in my ear.

I shiver.

“Would you like a tour?” he asks.

I just nod, because I can’t speak yet.

He shows me the living room first. Everything is bright and colorful. I recognize the sofa from his old apartment and the huge flat screen that now looks smaller in the bigger room. There’s a matching recliner and a small bookcase now, too.

“You did a great job decorating.”

“My mom did most of it,” he confesses. “She and Joey spent all day putting things together. Joey has an eye for color. She and Mom are having a ‘spa night’ after all their hard work.”

“She’s a smart kid—it looks amazing in here.”

“Come see the rest then. It’s even better,” he says, taking my hand and guiding me through the rest of the downstairs.

There’s a beautiful sunroom and small dining room, and each room is decorated in different but coordinating colors. It almost looks like a professional did it.

“Wow. This looks fantastic.”

“I know. My girl has talent,” he says proudly. He brings his hand up to scratch his nose, something I’ve noticed him do when he’s unsure of how to approach whatever it is he’s going to say next. “I can, uh, show you upstairs later if you’d like.”

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