Page 53 of What About Us
I also can’t deny how my feelings for him have changed, and how I’ve found myself thinking about him as more than a best friend. Can I marrymy best friend and keep these new feelings for him a secret? And what’s more, if I can never truly have Hudson in the way that I want, wouldn’t it be ok to pretend that I could? Even for just a little while?
But I don’t say any of those things. Even though it sounds good on paper, it’s stillcrazy. “You can’t be serious.”
“Why?” He crosses his arms over his chest, his voice purposeful. “You need insurance. I have it.”
“No. It’s insane, we can’t—” I fling a hand out, trying to sort through the warring emotions in my heart and my head. “You can’t just… No. That’sinsane.” I repeat and I realize I sound like a broken record. “Besides, isn’t that insurance fraud or something?”
Even as I deny it—fight against the thought—I feel my chest flushing with warmth, the kind that comes every time he touches me lately. It’s freaking delusional. I’m delusional. Here he is, offering to help with my insulin, and I’m daydreaming about pretending to be his wife.
“You have a better idea?” he counters, resting his palms on the counter. Sandwiches forgotten, he pins me with his steady gaze, eyebrows slightly lifted.
My laugh is absolutely hysterical, mostly because the more I sit with it, the more I want it. But no. We can’t. Can we? My best friend has officially lost it. “We’re not a couple. We’re not together.”
“Yeah, so?” He shrugs. “We live together. We’ve been friends for damn-near twenty years. We might not be together–together, but we love each other; we say it all the time. Drunk people get married in Vegas in front of fat Elvis every day with less.”
I force out an incredulous sound that is more a screech than an actual laugh. “We’re not drunk! Although, I’m starting to wonder ifyouare. Either that, or I’m hallucinating because this is fucking crazy.”
He lets out a long sigh through his nose, then says, “You couldn’t even stand, babe. Your numbers were high as fuck, and who knows for howlong. Do you even know the kind of damage you could be doing to your body?”
“Of course, I do,” I snap. I know all too well. I hate that he’s right. And I want to melt right off the chair into a puddle on the floor because the way he says ‘babe’ so full of concern and heat feels different this time—like how he would say to his girlfriend. Or his...wife. God, I love the sound of that. The stool I just vacated scrapes along the floor as my stomach bottoms out.
He sighs, his tone and body language like someone dealing with a spooked, caged animal. “Fuck. I’m sorry, ok? Just sit back down and have something to eat. We’ll figure something out.”
“I’m not hungry anymore,” I snap and round the island.
He turns, so the island is at his back. “Where are you going?” he asks.
The way he’s watching me, leaned back against the island, arms across his chest, he probably thinks I’m losing it. Which, I absolutely am.
Swiping up my keys, I’m halfway to the door leading to the garage when I grumble out, “To find me a sugar daddy so you’ll stop paying for shit.”
It’s cruel, and I don’t mean it. I feel the immediate burn of tears prick my eyes and a lump of regret forms in my throat. I want to turn into him, not run away. I want to bury my face in his chest and feel his arms around me. I want to accept his offer to marry him. I want to let him take care of me so that I can stop worrying for even half a second. I want to punch him in the junk and kiss the shit out of him. I’m confused and overwhelmed at his generosity, and I’m stillso pissedat him, but I’m even more sick of being a burden. His proposal—no, hisproposition—has my insides in knots.
“You’re in your pajamas and you’re not wearing any shoes.”
The door closes on his words, and I fight back tears all the way to the car. Once I’m inside and safely driving somewhere—anywherebut here—I’ll let them fall.
Chapter 17
Hudson
I let out asigh of relief when the garage door raises, revealing Finn’s Volvo tucked into the garage. I don’t know where she went after she stormed out this afternoon, but when I left to head to the ranch an hour and a half later, she still wasn’t picking up her phone or answering my messages.
She hadn’t gone to the B&B; I’d driven by to check. I figured she might be with Wren at the cabin. But I didn’t want to worry anyone. So, I left it alone and headed to the ranch for dinner with my parents. It wasn’t something I’d planned on doing tonight, but I figured if Finn did come back home, she might need some space. Especially since I decided to spring a marriage proposal on her out of the fucking blue.
I hadn’t given myself much time to think about what asking her to marry me would mean for her. I only knew she needed insurance, and I have a great policy that paid well. As soon as the idea formed in my head, I didn’t question it. But I’m not surprised she did. She’s always been fiercely independent, and I admire that about her. But she’s so goddamned stubbornsometimes.
I throw my truck into park and punch the button on my visor to close the door behind me. I’m sure Finn is already in bed, so we’ll have to continue the discussion tomorrow. And wewillcontinue it because, unless she can come up with a better idea—and soon—her health will just continue to suffer.
Paige fell asleep at the ranch after she roped Pop into watchMoanawith her for the fifty-seventh time. Instead of waking her, I’d covered her in a blanket on the pull-out couch in the guest bedroom and Mom insisted she’d be ok there for the night. I’ll have to grab her a change of clothes and head to the ranch first thing in the morning to get her to day camp on time.
My stomach grumbles when I enter the darkened kitchen, despite having had a big dinner a few hours earlier. It’s just after ten, so I’m not surprised to find the entire lower level of the house dark and quiet.
I’ve just kicked off my shoes and started pouring a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, when my phone vibrates on the counter next to my elbow. It’s a message from Finn.
Jameson:Is that you banging around down there, or am I being robbed?
Humor. That’s a good sign that she isn’t contemplating murdering me in my sleep for going behind her back to Erin. It was a bold move—me, going to her—especially knowing how Finnley feels about her. But if it means she’s well, then so be it. No one and nothing—short of Paige—means more to me than Finnley.
