Page 66 of Marry Me, Maybe?
And then I showed up at his door.
Because this thing between us, this constant fighting, the never-ending push and pull, was driving me insane. But maybe the real war hadn’t been with Hudson at all. Maybe it had always been with myself. With the part of me that still ached for him. That still wanted to believe he was worth the hurt. That still couldn’t let him go.
I wanted the truth.
All of it.
For once and for all.
Hudson slid the ice cream into the freezer without a word, but he didn’t sit. Didn’t relax. His shoulders stayed tense, jaw ticking as he wiped his hands down the sides of his jeans and hovered.
“You eaten yet?” he asked.
I shook my head, leaning back in the chair a little. “Nah. Wasn’t hungry earlier.”
That was a half truth. I hadn’t been hungry because I’d been spiraling in my head since leaving the grocery store. Since watching Ivy cry when I didn’t go home with them.Since realizing I couldn’t keep pretending that Hudson meant nothing to me.
I could still be angry with him and still want to protect him, couldn’t I?
I glanced at his side of the table. A plastic bowl of instant ramen.
That was what he’d made for himself?
“I can wait till I get home,” I said. “Not a big deal.”
Hudson didn’t answer. Just moved around the kitchen with quiet purpose, pulling a few containers from the fridge. I opened my mouth to argue, but he was already heating the food—real food. Chicken thighs, grilled vegetables, a scoop of something that looked like rice pilaf. He slid the plate in front of me without a word.
“It’s not much, but it tastes half decent, or Bug wouldn’t eat it,” he said, voice low, no room for argument.
I looked down at the meal. Then back up at him.
“You not having any?” I frowned.
He shook his head. “I’m fine.”
The ramen sat in front of his chair, the steam already fading. Just noodles. No protein. No veg. Just salt and water and whatever barely passed as sustenance.
Something in me twisted.
This was what he’d been living on?
How the hell had he managed to work the ranch on this? Long hours. Heavy lifting. Dust and sweat and burning sun. I knew what it took out of a man. I damn near inhaled my food after a long day, and I was younger and fitter than him.
I reached across the table and switched my plate with his noodles.
“Matt, what are you doing?”
“Eat,” I said firmly, grabbing the plastic fork and slurping up the cold noodles he’d planned to eat.
Ivy thought it was funny and laughed when I got noodle soup all over the table. Her laugh was infectious.
“Eat, Daddy!” she cried. “Then we can have i’cweam.”
Hudson hesitated, uncertainty swirling in his eyes, like he was contemplating putting the food back in the fridge so it could last another day.
“You already heated it, Hud.”
“Because I thought you were going to eat it,” he grumbled, but he lowered himself into the chair and picked up the fork.
