Page 141 of What About Us
I nod. “I know.”
She levels her warm, blue gaze on me. “So, fix it.”
I sit back with a harsh exhale and shake my head. “I don’t know if I can. She says we’re done.”
Her brows almost touch in the middle when she frowns at me. “Done? What do you mean, ‘done’?”
I shake my head. “She wants us to go back to just being friends.” My voice tries to crack on the last word, but I clear my throat against it.
“Oh, dear,” she says, and this time, her voice has a bit of a wobble to it.
I nod, feeling like I’m living in some cruel, alternate universe, where my ex-wife is living in my parents’ house—albeit, temporarily—and I’m forced to play nice for the sake of my daughter. All the while, the woman I love—my wife—is less than a mile away and won’t even talk to me. Except, it isn’t an alternate universe. It’s my reality.
“I’ll be ok, Mom.” I try to reassure her, but I’m not convinced, and the declaration comes out half-assed at best. I can’t believe how royally fucked this situation is, when a week ago, we were on cloud nine, finally coming out as a couple to all of my siblings. Has it really only been a week since we told them and my parents about us? They’d been so happy for us.
Mom nods and shifts to lean forward in her seat, propping her elbows on the table in front of her. “No, I know you will. It’s just…” she trails off, as if she’s searching for the right thing to say. She tilts her head, a nostalgic gleam in her eye. “You were one of my easiest babies. Have I ever told you that?”
I nod, smiling a bit. “Only about a million times.”
“Well, it’s true. From the time you were tiny, you were sweet. You’ve always worn your heart on your sleeve, especially when it comes to Finnley. You’re a lot like your brother in that way. You and Hank, you’re both helpers, so selfless. Always putting others before yourselves.
“And I know you tease and joke a lot, but I think that comes from feeling like you had to be someone you’re not. So, you’d make jokes to deter people from seeing your pain, or what you think certain others might see as failures. But you deserve to be happy, Hudson. To put yourself first sometimes. To know what other people think doesn’t matter to your life or how you live it.”
I swallow and shift in my seat, my throat tight. How is it that she can see into my soul like that? I feel exposed. How can she take one look at me and know what I’m feeling—what I’ve been feeling for my entire life? Maybe it’s not true of all mother’s, but it’s definitely true in the case of mine.
I lift my watery eyes to hers and expel a pent-up breath.
“You asked me once if was proud of you, right after you opened Timber Haus. Do you remember?” she asks.
I nod, knowing exactly what day she’s talking about. I’d been having a hard week with Tristen. That morning, she’d told me all I ever thought about was my damn bar and being in business for myself. She’d said I never paid enough attention to her, and I was a shitty partner. Even though everything I was doing was trying to live up to her expectation of what it meant to be successful.
Mom and Pop were visiting, and Mom had told me she couldn’t have been prouder of me than she was that day when all my hard work had finally come to fruition. She could see me reaping its rewards. It was like Mom could see what Tristen couldn’t. It’s still happening, even now.
“I always have been, son. I was proud of the husband you were to that woman out there—even when she didn’t deserve you. I was proud of how you handled your divorce and selling the bar you worked so hard to build. I’m proud of the father you are, how you put Paige’s needs before your own at every turn. You’ve never spoken a single bad word about Tristen to your daughter. You’ve never kept Paige from her, even when everyone else thought you should have. That’s no small feat.”
She reaches across the table and squeezes my arm. “That’s integrity. That’s character. I know you’ve kept Finnley at arm’s length for years because you were afraid to ruin your friendship, but…” She pauses to look into my eyes.
I see the same mom looking back at me as I did when I was fifteen and in trouble for something. It’s different from what I see in Pop’s. I know he loves me, but the acceptance I see reflected back at me from my mom’s eyes makes my chest grow tight and I have to blink a couple of times to keep her in focus.
“There is no better foundation to start a life together than friendship. There is no greater connection. With Finnley, you know that no matter what, she loves you for you. Not for what you can give her, or because of what she’ll gain from being your friend.”
I nod, knowing she’s right. And her words hit so close to home. This marriage, this arrangement, started with what I could give Finn—insurance to get her insulin—but it was never about that for me. It was always just about her and my love for her. I didn’t want to admit it before, but it’s the truth. I did it to help a friend, sure, but I really did it because it was her. It’s the opposite of what Tristen and I had.
“What I’m trying to say is, lust and attraction are great; fun, even—”
My eyes snap to Mom’s. I let out a chuckle and hold up a hand to stop her. “We’re not about to have the talk, are we? Dad already did that when I was twelve.”
“Oh, you hush,” she says with a smirk, soft folds of skin crinkling around dancing blue eyes. “I’m just saying, I see how you look at one another. She makes you happy. You’re whole when you’re with her. Don’t discount that just because you were friends first. Talk to her. Make her see what she means to you.”
Then, she lets out a weary breath and mischievously rolls her eyes, hitching her head in the direction of the house. “And I’ll take care of you know who. Make sure thequeen doesn’t get her clothes dirty or step in cow shit while she’s here. Although...” she trails off, with a tap of her pointer finger to her chin.
I chuckle at the wicked gleam in her eyes and lower my voice conspiratorially. “Who knew you had such a potty mouth.”
“Yeah, and I’ll say it again if you don’t get your head out of your behind,” she says pointedly, pursing her lips. But her expression is both teasing and amused.
With a laugh, I reach over and squeeze her hand before standing up to pull her into a hug. She’s petite, only a couple of inches taller than Finn, and when I wrap my arms around her and lift her off her feet in a bear hug, she laughs against my chest. I set her down and she pulls back, gazing up at me. I feel so much better after talking to her. Not 100 percent confident, but when Finn is ready, I’ll be there to make my case and apologize.
“I love you, son,” she says.
