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Chapter 26
Sophie
Saturday
Even though I knew exactly who was walking up to my house, I didn’t dread seeing him. I’d spent the entirety of the last couple of days hating myself for what I’d said, what I’d implied.
I was on my feet and away from my laptop before the doorbell even rang.
Hudson’s face was stern as I opened the door, all hard, flexed muscles. But I could tell by his eyes that he wasn’t upset with me. There was something else there, something more like regret, remorse. “Hey,” I said.
“Hey.”
“You can come in.” I stepped to the side, opening the door wider for him to come through, and watched every piece of him as he entered my house for the second time this week.
“I know you’re still mad at me, but?—”
“I’m not,” I said, closing the door behind him. He stood a little too close, a little too tall. I must have looked tiny in my pajama shorts and tank top next to him. “I’m sorry about the other day. I was just so frustrated with everything and I took it out on you. I’ve calmed down considerably since.”
His brows raised as he looked down at me. “I’m sorry too. Can we have a real talk this time instead of getting mad at each other?”
I chuckled. “Yeah, we can try.” I stepped around him, crossing the open plan space into the living room and plopping down on the sofa. “There’s some wine in the fridge if you want it. Someone should drink it before it goes bad.”
I watched as he made himself at home, opening and closing cupboards until he found my stash of wine glasses before pouring himself a full glass worth. He glanced at my laptop, at the designs I had loaded up and the patterns I was digitally designing, nonchalantly sipping his wine.
“Please don’t spill wine on my computer,” I joked, hoping to cut the small amount of awkward tension.
“If I did it would only be payback for you spilling wine on my shirt and my couch.” He leaned forward over the screen, using two fingers to scroll along the trackpad. “These are amazing. Your designs. I should have told you sooner.”
I felt the heat warm my cheeks as I looked away from him, the little balls of lint on my sofa suddenly far more interesting. “Thanks.” I didn’t want to admit that it made my stomach twist to get a compliment from him, and it definitely wasn’t just because of the bout of nausea I was currently wading through thanks to the little one inside of me.
I felt the vibrations of his feet against the floor, only spotting him once he came into my peripheral vision. His buttoned-up white shirt and the casual slacks he wore made that twisting in my gut a little bit worse. “Right.” He came around the couch, the glass of wine in his hand steady as he sat down on the opposite end. “I’m willing to go all in if you’re prepared for that.”
All in? What the fuck did that mean? “I’m already all in.”
“I mean I’m ready to be a parent again. I’m all in on this. I want to be in my, I mean, our child’s life if you’re okay with that.”
I watched as he sipped his wine, his eyes tentatively glancing between me and the glass in his hand. I wasn’t used to seeing him like this—vulnerable, hesitant. Despite our argument the other night, he didn’t need to be worried. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, about what my life was going to look like now, about how stressful but how much easier it would be raising this child with someone else. Hudson was a good dad. I knew that.
“Sophie? Can you say something?”
“Sorry,” I mumbled. I pulled my legs up to my chest, my lip caught between my teeth. “I want you to be involved. I didn’t mean what I said the other day, and I’m sorry about it.” I glanced at him, noting the sigh of relief that flooded from his chest. “I want to figure this out. All of it.”
His head leaned back, settling on the hardwood of the back of my couch, his eyes closed and Adam’s apple bobbing. It made that spot in my chest ache again, the fire in my gut spread.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he mumbled as he peeked at me out of the corner of his eye. “Just relieved. Not that I thought you meant all of it, but there was a chance you did. And that chance honestly had me terrified.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. I’d done wrong, I knew that. I knew I’d lashed out. I still felt bad about it, no matter how many times I would inevitably apologize. But still, from the way he looked at me, the way he sat, the way he nearly choked on relief made it feel like there was more. And that ‘more,’ if it existed, could be dangerous.
“I’m happy to continue with the fake engagement if you are,” he said, rolling his head to the side and resting it against the soft cushion.
I nodded. “Yeah, that would be ideal. I don’t think my parents would be too pleased if I told them I was continuing with a pregnancy when my fiancé and I broke up just after conception,” I chuckled.
“How very secular of them,” he sneered, and I glared in response.
“Be nice. It wouldn’t end well for you either, not with my mom knowing yours.”
