Page 66 of Dear Adam
“I just thought I heard my name,” I say. “I must be going crazy.”
“Oh, look! It’s the governor. Let’s go say hi,” Hudson says and steers me toward the man. There’s a squeaking noise with every step Hudson takes, and I look down in confusion.
“Hudson?”
“Smile, okay? Sometimes you have RBF, and I really need to make a good impression on the governor.”
“RBF? Are you kidding me?”
“What? I didn’t mean anything by it. I just wanted to make sure you smile.”
I plaster on a fake smile. “Can I ask my question now?”
“If you make it quick.”
“Why don’t you ever wear socks?”
Before he can answer me, the governor notices Hudson and strides over.
“Hudson!” he beams and shakes his hand. “Here withtheAly Bloomington, I see. Congrats, my friend. I’m sure her father is proud.”
“Her father is over the moon that we are finally together,” Hudson replies without missing a beat.
I open my mouth to protest, but Hudson steps on my foot.
“That’s great to hear. I wish you two the best of luck and will be looking in the mail for our wedding invite soon.” He shoots me a wink, and I swallow the bile in my throat. As he walks away, I turn to Hudson.
“What was that?” I ask. “We are most definitelynottogether.”
“We are tonight, aren’t we?” he asks, caressing my cheek with the back of his hand.
I turn my head to avoid his touch. “That doesn’t warrant a wedding invite in the future. Why didn’t you correct him? Or let me correct him without you stepping on my foot?”
“Oh, Aly,” Hudson says indulgently, like I’m a silly child, and links his arm through mine again.
I tell myself it can’t be like this all night. Surely Hudson will calm down and we might actually have a decent evening.
But things only get worse.
“Waiter? Waiter!” Hudson says once we’re all seated at the head table under one of the large white tents in the backyard. A waiter jogs over, eager to please.
“My steak is medium, and I asked for medium rare. Also, my potatoes are too cold.”
“Hudson, you asked for medium. I heard you,” I say, fighting the urge to throw the whole plate in his face.
He ignores me and lifts the plate up to the waiter. “Can you get me what I ordered and make sure it’shot,please?” The waiter scurries off and I take another bite of my potatoes that are plenty warm, and delicious at that.
A knife clinking against a wine glass quiets the room, and I look over to see my dad standing, a mic in hand.
Here we go,I think.
“Thank you all so much for coming tonight as we celebrate our fifteenth annual charity gala. I just received word on the amount of money received from this year's donations and I’m pleased to announce we beat last year's record by fifty thousand dollars!” Cheers burst out but quiet after a few seconds.
“As you all know, the past few months have been more than difficult for us following the accident of our son, Adam. We wish he could be here and are thankful for your continued prayers. We are also thankful for our daughter.” He points to me and I smile awkwardly into the crowd. “And her more than fantastic, supportive boyfriend, Hudson.” Cheers assaults my ears again, and all the blood drains from my face. “With that, I would like to announce my retirement at the end of the year. As sad as I am to take a step back, I know the family business will be in great hands. Hudson, do you mind joining me?”
“What did you do?” I whisper-yell at Hudson. Again, he ignores me and walks up to join my dad, taking the microphone from him.
“Good evening, everyone!” Hudson croons. “I am thrilled to be here tonight and even more thrilled to have been considered, let alone given the wonderful honor of filling Mr. Bloomington’s shoes.”
