Page 78 of Say You Love Me

I let my smile grow wide. “But that’s all in the past and now Hudson and I are probably the best we’ve ever been. Things are good. Life is good.”

Lori nods firmly, hearing the truth in my words. Hudson and I aren’t the people we were before. We are new. Better. He no longer looks at me with animosity. There’s no hesitation in his touch. He clings to me as desperately as I cling to him. The way it always should have been.

“You need to come over for dinner more often. I feel like I’ve hardly seen anything of you two, apart from these quick walk-bys after work.” Her expression changes, dipping into sadness. “I know you don’t like to talk about her, but it’s coming up to the anniversary.”

A knife twists through me, almost making me want to double over with the pain, but instead I plaster on a smile and ignore the emotions tumbling within. I’m good at that.

“I better get home. Hudson will be expecting me. But dinner sounds wonderful. We’ll be in touch.”

It doesn’t take long to walk the short distance home. I push open the door quietly, hoping to surprise Hudson, but he’s waiting for me.

It only takes him a couple of strides and then his hands are on me, his fingers winding into my hair. He cups my face and tilts his forehead against mine.

“Did you miss me?” I ask, breathing in the scent of him.

His smile spreads slowly. “Only everything about you.”

Letting my bag drop to the floor, I loop my hands around his neck and kiss him passionately. But rather than melting into the kiss, he slaps my backside playfully and pushes me away. “Come on, I’m taking you out for dinner in the city.”

“What’s the celebration?”

“No celebration. I just want to go to dinner with my wife.” He brushes his nose against mine. “So hurry up and go get ready. You’re all dusty.”

I skip up the stairs and jump through the shower, taking a little bit longer than necessary to choose which dress I’m going to wear. Finally, I pull one from its hanger and tug it over my head. Its length brushes the ground around my feet, but it has an open split up the side, revealing the full length of my left leg as I walk. Its neckline plunges low. I hope it will taunt Hudson all night.

He lets out a low whistle when I walk down the stairs, his eyes skipping between the exposed flesh of my thigh and the swells of my breasts indecisively. “You look amazing.”

The restaurant he takes me to is new. It’s been months since we’ve been out of the house like this, and it does us both good. And I’m right about the dress, Hudson can barely take his eyes off me, and I often catch him running his tongue over his bottom lip as his eyes fix on the swells of my breasts as though it’s not the food he’s hungry for. It’s me.

We’re in the middle of dessert when he leans forward, his hand reaching under the table to shuffle through the folds of material until he finds my knee. He caresses it slowly as he speaks and the movement is distracting. His hands are rough and the sensation of his skin over mine is delicious.

“I heard from the police today.” He looks down at his crème brûlée as he speaks.

“The police?” I repeat, confused.

“About Rylee.”

“Oh.” I hate talking about it. I prefer not to think about him, or what happened or how everything ended. It brings up too many painful memories.

“It was officially ruled as an accident. His blood was tainted with a million different sorts of drugs, prescribed and otherwise. Their blaming that for him losing his balance and falling.”

I snort. “Took them long enough. It’s been months since the funeral.” My throat almost closes on the words. A wave of sadness crashes over me and for a moment I’m annoyed at Hudson for bringing him up. He’s ruining the moment. Forcing me to think about things I don’t want to think about.

“I just thought you might be relieved to know.” He looks at me curiously and his hand stops caressing my knee. I shift my leg, removing it from his grasp.

“I’ve always known.” My words are sharper than I intended. “I was there, remember?” I stab my fork into my ginger pudding. “All I want to do is move on. Put that horrible mess behind us.”

“You don’t miss him?”

I look up quickly. “Only you. It’s always been you, Hudson.”

“I know but…” His words fail as he picks up his wine glass. He toys with it, swishing the liquid before taking a sip. “You don’t miss—” he clears his throat, “the excitement of it?”

“I really wish you’d stop talking about him. You know it only upsets me.”

“I’m sorry.” His hand ducks beneath the table again, in search of my leg, but I move out of his way. He gives up and reaches for his glass, raising it high. “To moving on.”

I mimic his movement and echo his words, taking a deep gulp of the wine.

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