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“Well, obviously,” he drawled, and I dropped my hold on his shirt.
“What do I do?”
He raised one comical eyebrow at me. “What do you mean?”
“How do I make it go away?” I pressed, taking a step closer to him. My heart was already racing from the admission, hammering so hard in my chest that I could hear it in my ears. “I don’t need this, Nathan. What do I do?”
He opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, but closed it a second later, his eyes looking me up and down. I was damp, my scrubs almost soaked through, my hair a soggy mess. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Sophie like this. “You can’t do anything about it, man,” Nathan mumbled, so quietly I almost didn’t hear him over the pouring rain and the thumping in my head. “You have to feel it or get her out of your life.”
“You know I can’t do either of those.”
“Those are your only options, Huds. I’m sorry.”
“Fuck,” I groaned, pushing one hand through my hair to get the dripping strands off of my face. “I can’t deal with this. It’s going to drive me insane. But I can’t let her go, either. Not when I have these feelings, not when she’s carrying my child.”
“Tell her, then,” he said, the words falling so easily from his lips as if telling her was the easiest thing in the world. “What are you afraid of? If she’s going to be in your life, you’re going to have to tell her eventually. You can’t run from it forever, and you can’t keep it bottled up.”
“Absolutely not,” I scoffed. “What if she doesn’t feel the same? Or worse, what if she does? I can’t go through it all again, Nate. I can’t do what I did with Becks. I can’t.”
Nathan shrugged, the sleeve of his dress shirt clinging to his arm from where it stuck out into the rain. “This is something you have to figure out yourself. I can’t do it for you. I’m not in your head, man, but I think you should tell her. The benefits outweigh the risks.”
“I can’t just?—”
“Huds, respectfully, I’m in the middle of cooking dinner and my roux is certainly burned now. I need to go back in. You’re welcome to join us for dinner, but I can’t promise you’ll get out of here very quickly.”
————
I parked my car in the garage again. My leather seat was soaked and soggy, my ass collecting the majority of the water that slid down my skin as I drove home, leaving me sitting in a horribly warm puddle.
I didn’t want to tell her. I didn’t want to make things even harder between us, not when they were already so difficult, but fuck, what else could I do? It seemed the more time I spent with her, the harder things got. And the amount of time spent with her was only going to increase.
I pushed the car door open and grabbed the bag of Chinese I’d picked up, hopped out into the oil-fumed garage, and made my way inside.
“Hey,” Sophie called from the kitchen, her head poking around the corner. “I got the table set for you guys. Jamey’s upstairs changing into his pajamas.”
“Thanks,” I sighed, kicking off my damp shoes and socks and padding across the wood floor, each step making a wet thwap. “I got you chow mein and some egg-drop soup. Hope that’s okay.”
She nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine. Thanks, Hudson.”
I met her gaze as I started pulling out the boxes of food. Her blue eyes shone far too brightly, her freckled skin so perfect that I just wanted to plant my lips on it. Her brown hair was swooped up and away from her face, sitting high on her head in a messy bun. No Harvard hoodie today. Just leggings and a tight-fitting shirt, showing off every inch of her curves.
Suddenly, it was as if a switch flipped in my mind—the thought of not telling her how I felt hurt more. I didn’t want to keep it in, I wanted to let it fall from my tongue, I wanted to explain everything.
But the words just wouldn’t come out. So I watched her leave, out into the rain, her chow mein and soup clutched to her chest, leaving me alone in my house with my son and my far too warm heart.
Chapter 30
Sophie
Wednesday
The events of last night sat heavy in my mind for the remainder of the evening, continuing to linger into the morning, taking up every waking moment of my thoughts. Hudson had that look about him again, that one where he seemed like he desperately wanted to say something but couldn’t quite get the words out, and at this point, it was beginning to become frustrating. If he had something to say, I’d rather he just say it.
The sound of the door opening pulled me away from the Lego set Jamey and I were building. “Just a sec, bud,” I said to him, lifting myself to my feet and feeling the tightness in my lower back. As I stepped around the corner, Hudson shut the door behind him, his scrubs dry and crisp in comparison to last night. I didn’t know how much longer we were going to be awkward around each other, sidestepping the problem until both of us forgot. I was already tired of it.
“Hey,” he sighed. I watched as he placed his keys on the entryway table, the way his hand opened and closed, the ligature that sprung to life beneath his skin. I hated looking at him. He was too perfect, too handsome, too well-built that it was infuriating rather than intoxicating. In another situation it would have been exhilarating.
“Hi.” I bit my lip as my gaze wandered lower, along the ridges of his abdomen and past the way his pants were a little too tight around his hips and the why between them. “How was work?”
