Page 65 of The Rehoboth Retreat
Hudson straightened, clearly caught off guard by how quickly I’d surrendered. “Wait, seriously?”
“Sure,” I said, though the word felt foreign on mytongue. “I’ll be down for whatever it is you have in store. But if it involves rollerblades, karaoke, or matching tank tops, I’m out.”
Hudson beamed. “Noted. We’ll keep the tanks in the reserve pile.”
Cecilia gave a dramatic little clap, then pointed her mimosa glass at me. “Look at you being spontaneous. I feel like I just witnessed a small miracle.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Let’s not get carried away.”
Hudson grinned and took a playful bow. “I promise you won’t regret it.”
“I’m already half-regretting it,” I muttered, but my tone was teasing. I wasn’t actually regretting it. I was just…startled. And maybe even a little intrigued.
I noticed my mother watching us again, that same amused glint in her eyes, bouncing between Hudson and me like she was watching a very slow but promising game of ping-pong.
I knew that look. It was thesomething’s happening herelook.
“There’s nothing going on,” I said pointedly, mostly for her benefit.
Hudson raised a brow. “Who are you talking to?”
“No one,” I said quickly.
Cecilia just gave me a Mona Lisa smile, as if she knew the punchline to a joke I hadn’t even told yet.
I felt my face flush and busied myself, adjusting a perfectly aligned spoon on the countertop.
Hudson didn’t comment. He just smiled again—that damn crooked smile—and reached for his sunglasses on the island.
“Well,” he said, slipping them on. “You better get changed. I’ll meet you out front in two hours. And wear something you won’t mind getting… adventurous in.”
I stared at him.
“That could meananything,” I said, suspicious.
He winked. “Exactly.”
As he sauntered out of the kitchen, whistling something off-key, I looked back to Cecilia. She didn’t say a word—just sipped, smiled, and arched that same brow again.
I groaned. “Don’t start.”
She took a long, slow sip of mimosa. “I’m not starting anything, darling. I’m just… observing.”
“Well, stop observing.”
“That’s not how mothers work.”
And with that, she slid off the counter and floated off, leaving me alone with my sparkling kitchen, my neatly stacked to-do list still taped to the fridge, and the sensation that maybe—just maybe—I’d cracked the door open to something different today.
Something…unscripted.
And the more I thought about it, the more I was surprised by myself because I might be okay withthat.
Hudson
I was half-naked, one sock on and the other MIA, standing in my bedroom like some deranged fashion hurricane when I shouted into the air, “Lexi, if this doesn’t happen in the next ninety minutes, I’m deleting your contact, your family’s contact, and sending a plague of glitter to your doorstep.”
“Understood,” came her voice through my speakerphone, calm as ever, like I hadn’t just threatened a Lisa Frank-level apocalypse. “We’ve got one catering truck en route, the entertainment is locked, and everything else approved. Barely, though. I had to name-drop you and cry a little.”
