Page 206 of Cherish

He fades to me in an instant. “I… I…” He clears his throat. “You…”

And oh my God. I suddenly realize what’s happening. With the help of Esperanza and Imogen and Macy, I’ve made the ever-glib Hudson Vega speechless.

The tiny ball of nerves inside me that I didn’t even know was there slowly relaxes.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I tease.

He shakes his head, eyes wide with wonder. And still doesn’t manage to say anything.

“You want some water?” I turn toward the mini fridge hidden behind a panel in the dresser. But before I can take more than a step, Hudson fades to me, hands on my hips, and holds me in place.

“Grace.” That’s all he says, but there’s such love and reverence and heat in that one word that I don’t need him to say anything else.

“Yeah, I feel the same way every time you walk in a room,” I tell him.

That finally breaks the spell, and he laughs, pulling me against him for a one-armed hug. “Hey!” I say even as I make absolutely no move to step away. “I’m under strict orders from Macy not to let you wrinkle me.”

“Tulle always looks better with a few wrinkles,” he lies outrageously, but he does back off, just a little.

I start to reach for him again, to hell with wrinkles, but before I can, he pulls out a giant bouquet of flowers from behind his back. They match the colors and types in my dress exactly.

I gasp when I see them, then reach for the bouquet—and him—with greedy hands.

“I thought you were under orders not to wrinkle,” he teases as I press myself against him—while simultaneously burying my face in the flowers.

“Bite me,” I growl.

“I would, but I’m certain that we would both end up with some severe wrinkles,” he answers with the most choirboy look that has ever graced his face. “And I know we’re not supposed to do that.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re not going to let it go, are you?”

“I’m never going to letyougo. Does that count?”

“That might be the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said to me.” The fact that it still manages to make my heart go pitter-patter is something I’m going to keep to myself.

“How about this,” he says, setting the flowers aside and taking both my hands in his. “I dreamed you.”

“Oh, Hudson—”

“Let me finish,” he says in a voice so thick with emotions it barely sounds like his. “When I was trapped in that shithole for months and years, I dreamed you up. A woman so powerful and kind and strong that she’d be able to save the world, because if she could do that, then maybe she could save me, too.”

His voice breaks right along with my heart, and I reach for him, the need to feel his heart beating against me a compulsion I have no desire to escape.

But he holds me off with a look and a shake of his head. “You’ve saved me, Grace Foster, a million different times in a million different ways. You’ve saved me, even from myself.”

“You’ve saved me right back,” I whisper, and forget wrinkling. I’m going to be sobbing in a second, and there are no false lashes built for that.

Hudson must know just how close I am, because instead of saying something else guaranteed to make me blubber like a baby, he just lifts a brow and says, “Damn right I did. And don’t you forget it.”

And just like that, we’re laughing instead of crying. Which is exactly as it should be.

116

We’re in Love with

the Shape of Us

“Hey, where’s your crown?” I exclaim a few minutes later, after we’ve done our level best to wrinkle the hell out of both of our outfits.

---