Kenna comes out onto the patio to snap photos of the pets and I grab her. “Have you seen Georgia?” I ask.
“Oh my God!” She puts a hand to her mouth.
“That bad?” I look down at my costume, which is drenched with sweat.
“No, no”—she giggles—“that good. You look … authentic. I have to get a shot. Has Georgia seen you? I mean, have you talked?”
“I’ve been looking all over for her. I thought I saw her for a second earlier. Is she dressed as a battle pixie?”
“I think it was a punk fairy, technically,” Kenna corrects me. She hesitates a moment before speaking again. “Listen, Hudson, go easy on her, please? Hear her out?”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, this is totally middle school of me, but I think she has the feels for you.”
“The feels?” My heart skips a hopeful beat. First Xander, now Kenna. Is it possible that the feelings I’m feeling could actually be mutual?
“I’ve already said too much.” Kenna puts her hand over her mouth. “How’s your cat? Where is he? I want to meet the famed Oliver!”
“He’s up in my loft. Here’s a pic of him in the costume, except I couldn’t find his helmet.” I show her the photo of Oliver in his costume and the selfie I shot of the two of us together. I can’t suppress my grin. I’ve been waiting all night to show this photo to Georgia. I look over Kenna’s shoulder to see if I can catch a glimpse of Georgia in the crowd inside.
“You should totally post that one.” Kenna grins back. “Just go, Hudson. She’s working the front table.”
I bound down the stairs, looking between the table and the bar. Finally, I see her. She’s stomping toward the elevator in her hot-pink, fishnet tights and combat boots. Her wings are flapping, and she looks like she means business. She slips into the doors just as they are sliding shut. By the time I get there and press the button, the elevator is already well on its way up.
Damn.
I’m about to run up the stairs to catch her on the other end, but someone grabs my arm and tells me it’s time to make the announcements. I fumble in my pocket for the speech I’ve prepared. Thank God it’s still there.
Hopefully, Georgia will like it. We can speak afterward.
georgia
For the next forty minutes,I’m checking in guests. So many guests. Even after all the guests who have pre-purchased tickets arrive, more last-minute guests keep coming.
“We heard about it on theLit Lovers’podcast.”
“We saw it on Instagram.”
“I follow Xander on TikTok.”
“I buy my pet iguana’s wigs at your shop!” That last one is the most gratifying. I file the iguana owner’s Instagram account info away for future collabs.
The DJ is spinning, the guests with pets are mingling outdoors, and everyone is having a great time. Except for me. I still haven’t found a moment to speak to Hudson. I haven’t seen him at all. As I stand to go and look for him, I kick something from under the table. Much to my shock, it’s a tiny Viking helmet that I immediately recognize as part of Oliver’s costume. It must have fallen out while Ashley and I were wrestling with the bag.
Grabbing the miniature Viking cat helmet by the horns is not exactly the same as grabbing a bull, but I suddenly feel fortified with a similar determination.
I can’t go another minute without finding Hudson and talking to him!
Since I haven’t seen any sign of him in the main event space, I assume he’s up in the loft. I stomp toward the elevators and tuck in behind a group that’s heading up to the roof garden.
He’s got to be up in his place or one of the other lofts that are open for tours.
When I get to the breezeway, I see that Ashley is walking toward Hudson’s door. I press myself against the wall, taking cover behind a plant so she doesn’t see me. She’s got her cell phone to her ear. She looks over her shoulder to see if anyone is watching, kicks off her heels, swipes a keycard, and ducks in.
I creep toward the door, which is slightly ajar, and I can hear her talking.
“Yeah, yeah,” she says. “I’m pretty sure it’s a done deal. I mean, he went ring shopping yesterday. He didn’t think I knew, but I set up his cell to share his location with mine.”
