Page 103 of Mr. Big Shot

I’ve had to suffer right along with Hudson, only he didn’t know he was supposed to be an impatient mess like me. He’s been living life as usual.

When my dad suggested we all come over for dinner on Friday and casually mentioned he’d invited Hudson’s family and Lucy to join us, I knew it was finally happening. Last night, I was thinking about the moment—Hudson’s dream coming true, fireworks, cannons, confetti—and I was feeling wistful and proud. I was supposed to be concentrating on the Dateline episode we were watching. Hudson made a comment about the plot, “I can’t believe that’s actually his son,” and I replied in a lifeless tone, “That’s crazy.”

Then he reached for the remote and paused the show. “That’s not his son. That’s the chief of police. I knew you weren’t paying attention.” He furrowed his brows. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I pointed to the TV. “Rewind it a bit. I zoned out.”

“No, you’ve been weird all day.”

I laughed as my cheeks reddened. Then, alarmed at how easily I was starting to crack under pressure, I sat up and tried to get the remote from him. He held it aloft over his head. “It’s nothing. Hudson. Give me the remote.”

He didn’t give it to me despite my stern tone and I could tell he wasn’t going to drop the subject, so I did what I had to do. I seduced him. Thankfully I brought that little serving bowl of condoms with me when I moved in with him. It’s come in handy a few times.

Now, we slow to a stop outside my parents’ house. Cars line the street. I should have thought to have everyone park one block over.

“Is that my mom’s car?” Hudson asks, leaning over to try to make out the vehicle parked in front of Barrett’s.

“No,” I say hurriedly. “That’s my dad’s loaner. He got a flat on the way to work.”

I’m smart enough to think on my feet, but my acting skills are subpar at best. Practicing law is my only talent.

Hudson looks over at me, more suspicious than ever. “That’s definitely my mom’s car.”

I frown and shake my head then throw in a long hum for good measure. “I really don’t think so…”

“Scarlett…why is my mom here?”

I can’t withstand his third-degree. I’m about to just turn and bail and make him chase after me up the path, but sensing my plan, he reaches for my arm and stills me. My smile is impossible to suppress.

“What is this?” he asks with a smile of his own.

I turn to him with pleading, puppy dog eyes. “Let’s just go inside.”

I don’t want to ruin the surprise now, not when we’re so close to the finish line.

He shakes his head, resolute as ever. Stubborn man! “Not until you tell me what I’m about to walk in on.”

“Let’s just go, okay? We’re a few minutes late, and I’m sure everyone is hungry.”

He relents and turns off the car. I grab the wine carrier filled with the bottles we picked up on the way over, but I shouldn’t have bothered. Hudson loops around to my side and takes the wine from me before reaching down for my hand. “Promise me we aren’t walking into something horrible.”

I squeeze his hand. “I promise.”

When we’re halfway up the path, I catch movement in the living room window. Lucy.

Dammit.

Hudson sees her too. She and my mom are peeking out from behind the drapes, and lo and behold, Renee is right there beside them. When they see us see them, they all duck in unison. The Three Stooges have nothing on them.

“Scarlett…” Hudson says with a playfully reproachful tone.

“I just thought we could have a fun family dinner!” I say, chock-full of innocence.

“But why the secrecy?”

We reach the stoop and the doorknob creaks and I realize we’re seconds away from being ambushed, but it’s too late to do anything. The door whips open to a cacophony of noise as Jack and Annabelle come barreling down the front hall, racing to get to us.

“Slow down!” Corinne chides half-heartedly.

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