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All the things I felt when he hugged me told me my feelings are reciprocated. He squeezed me longer than usual. The noise he expelled was a mixture of comfort and longing, like a groan mixed with a sigh. And the rigidness I’d felt digging into my hip when he picked me up could not be denied either.
Dumbly, I say, “Should I leave my car here and follow you, or?”
“Ride with me. I want to tell you the news on our way to the thing.”
“The thing?” I quirk an eyebrow skeptically.
“That’s all I’m going to say! Don’t make me spoil it!”
I tease him, “What has gotten into you?”
But I know the answer to that. What has gotten into Hudson is the same thing that has gotten into me. Extreme feelings that reach way beyond friendship.
I pile into Hudson’s woody station wagon, and we head to the marina.
“Aren’t you sick of this place? You’ve been at work all day,” I tease. “I know full well he lives here in his own boat, but with the way he’s dressed up, I’d assumed we’d be going somewhere other than his usual hideaway.
“I have news. I’ve been offered a job over the summer in the Keys, chartering a fishing boat.”
I’m both thrilled and over the moon for him. I reach over and squeeze his hand while he drives up the coastline.
But a part of me is selfishly sad.
“That is amazing, Hudson! I’m so proud of you!”
He laughs, “I did nothing to earn it. Captain Jack just picked me out and asked me. I think he just needs a warm body.”
I scoff, “Fiddlesticks!”
He laughs at my corny exclamations.
“No, really. You work hard, you treat your employees and clients well. I’m sure he noticed you because of that.”
Hudson smiles and grips the wheel, a mischievous smile and a twinkle in his eye.
“I’m so lucky to have someone like you who believes in me, Adalee.”
Hudson never calls me by my actual name. It’s always my last name, French. Or his nickname for me, Frenchie.
He says my name softly like a love song, and it’s music to my ears.
“Of course, I believe in you,” I say as he parks at the marina.
We exit the woody, and he carries my overnight bag for me with one hand and reaches out to hold my hand with his other hand.
My stomach does the second backflip of the day. On any other night, I know he’d be holding on to me to keep me steady on this sometimes-rickety dock, but this feels different. Everything feels different tonight.
As we approach Captain Jack’s boat, I see the moon above the water. In the distance, pleasure boats with their tiny red lights blinking are scattered across the horizon. It’s a peaceful night, and the waves lap gently against
the dock and the line of sailboats.
“You know I get seasick. I hope you’re not planning on taking me on a cruise,” I say.
Hudson laughs and squeezes my hand. “You know I would never spring that on you.”
Appreciation floods me. He knows me so well and would never try to push me to get used to the water unless it was something I really wanted to do.
“I’m still not sure what we’re doing here,” I say.
