Page 58 of Mr. Big Shot

“Hudson.”

“You’re insufferable.”

She threw up her hands. “I’m a mother! Of course I’m insufferable.”

I plopped back down on the couch. “I’m perfectly fine on my own, you know.”

Apparently, this speech didn’t get through to her because later on, once we’d eaten all the traditional Christmas foods for brunch and we were hungry for something different, we placed an order for pizza.

I gave my mom more than enough cash to cover it, but when she answered the door to receive the delivery, she called my name like it was a question. “Hudson?”

Then I saw that she was gesturing to the man who was about my age, dressed in a Blackhawks jersey and hat.

It took me a second to register what she was asking. She didn’t need more money.

Good lord.

I rubbed my eyes and said, “Just pay for the damn pizza!”

“Bad word! Bad word!” my niece shrieked, dancing around me on the couch until I picked her up and flung her back onto the pillows. She squealed with delight and demanded I do it again and again.

“I just wanted to cover all the bases,” my mom said once she’d shut the door. “It’s not too late to try to grab his number!”

Chapter Twenty

Scarlett

Is there anything sadder than the day after New Year’s? Corporate America doesn’t waste any time. They call in the worker elves in the dead of night to strip away the holiday decorations with all the efficiency of a Chick-fil-A drive-thru. By the time we make it back into the office come January 2nd, there’s no more cheer, no more tinsel, no more artificial happiness of any kind. Now we’ve entered the bleak side of winter, the bitterly cold January days that seem to stretch on forever. I need to be on a beach in Maui; instead I’m in the Elwood Hoyt food court, battling seasonal depression and trying to pick between two sad-sounding proteins for my lunch salad. Hudson finds me just as I’m handing over my credit card to pay upwards of $20 for wilted lettuce and chicken that was grilled sometime yesterday.

“I’ve changed my mind.”

I frown at him over my shoulder. “You changed your mind? Because I asked if you wanted anything for lunch and you said Lucy already—”

“No.” He stands up straighter then fixes his already neat tie. “I changed my mind about the grading thing.”

My stomach plummets then soars. I feel weightless for the length of time it takes me to realize he’s pranking me. This is April Fools’ a few months early.

“Why?” My tone implies I have zero time for his bullshit. I have cold chicken to eat.

He’s looking over my head when he replies, “Because I need you to do something for me.”

He sounds deadly serious.

My worry starts to compound on itself almost immediately. I accept my card back from the cashier and tuck it into my wallet before grabbing my food. Hudson falls in step beside me as I walk to a table in the corner of the food court. I’d love to take my meal out on the terrace, but seeing as the wind chill outside is hovering near -450 degrees, I’m stuck in here. “What is it? What do you need from me?”

He sighs and looks at me, finally. His eyes are so heavy when they land on mine. Two-ton boulders. “Listen, it’s my mom’s greatest wish, her last wish, to see me happily settled down.”

I gasp. “Oh my god, your mom is dying?”

He shakes his head, unaffected. “No, but I figure it’s better to get this out of the way now while you and I are doing each other favors.”

Grateful I’m not about to have to Make a Wish, I pour dressing over my salad and then do the Kardashian shake. “So what does this favor entail?”

“I can’t believe you’re not outright agreeing.”

“Can you blame me?”

Sure, I’m the more desperate of the two of us, but I need to know what I’m getting myself into. No lawyer signs a contract without reviewing it first.

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