Page 42 of Her Goal
Also, as cocky as ever.
“I figured you’d be hitched unless you’re holding out for Hunter. If so, don’t …” he trails off as if not wanting to finish the sentence. Then, more animatedly, he adds, “I remember you once telling Hunter that if you two weren’t married by the time you’re thirty, the two of you should go to the courthouse. That would mean missing a huge party like this. I bet your family goes all in on weddings.”
“And funerals.”
But the memory about my “proposal” to Hunter hits me like a Knights defenseman at full speed, nearly taking the wind out of my lungs because of what Hudson’s brother said, or in this case, didn’t say. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Sure you do. We were in the living room. Hunter was playing that dumb video game with the dinosaur zombies. The only way to save civilization was if his mercenary character married the last living woman on the planet.”
I swallow because I remember the gut-punch moment all too well.
“Hunter said marriage was for suckers.”
My pride lodges in my throat now just as it did back then.
I told Hunter that if the video game were real life, I’d marry him to save humanity. He laughed like I was joking. Then Isuggested we get married if we were both still single by the time we reached thirty. Even though I wasn’t ready for that level of commitment at seventeen, I was fishing, hoping he’d throw me a crumb on the end of the hook that would solidify whatever was going on between us. Whatever I wished was there.
I expect Hudson to replay this in vivid detail if only to drive home my complete and utter humiliation, but all he says is, “When Hunter said no, I offered to volunteer as tribute.”
I repeat now what I said then. “I’d never marry you.”
His expression is a replica of the one I recall when he stood in the stark light of his kitchen. His smile wavers and I glimpse hurt. However, quickly recovering in pro hockey fashion, Hudson’s lips quirk. “So salty. So sassy.”
“There’s plenty more where that came from.” I revert to fortifying the wall between us because it’s the only way I know how to act around Hudson if I am to retain any dignity at all after what he said to Hunter about me.
He smirks. “Good.”
“You’re not supposed to like it.”
“I’m up for a challenge.” He bobs his eyebrows.
The past and present collide, and with a twist in my gut, I realize how much like Hunter I just sounded. He rejected me and I rejected Hudson—not that he was, or is, actually interested in me.
Hudson adds, “For the record, I would’ve married you to save the world from the zombie dinosaurs and if you’re racing against the thirtieth birthday clock, there’s another Roboveitchek.”
Is he saying he’s available, but why? Questions crowd my mind that have no logical answer.
“Can we be done talking?” I ask, well aware of how nasty I sound.
A wet nose presses against my leg. But it’s not a sticky child in need of a wet wipe.
Hudson bends over and pets the family dog. “Tinker!”
The next sixty seconds pass in a flurry of petting, tummy and ear scratches, and, “Tinker is the goodest boy. Oh yes he is,” on repeat.
This would be another opportunity to take my leave while thedogskeep each other company, but I don’t move as if waiting for my turn.
“How did you know about my dog?” I ask.
Hudson inclines his head, preparing to state the obvious. “Because we were neighbors and because I always wanted one, but Hunter claimed he was allergic.”
“He wasn’t allergic.”
“I know.” His tone is soft again … or is it restrained?
“I remember you guys bringing him home when Dani moved out.”
“Mami likes a full house.Her,” I add as a memory comes back.
