Page 92 of Hate You Later
“Oh, hey there, Georgia. Isn’t this fun? Xander’s over there showing off some of our social media success stories. We borrowed a few dogs for the day. Promised I’d stick around and babysit the pups.”
She points to a penned-in area on the side lawn, where Xander is holding court with a gaggle of preteen girls. I recognize the dogs immediately. One of the girls is taking a selfie with Mr. Miyagi, who is panting happily and enjoying the attention. Two other girls are showing their phones to Xander. There’s a bulldog with a coach’s whistle and striped ref’s shirt sitting on his lap.
Xander looks up, waves, and mouths the word “Help!” Angie and I laugh because he can’t keep the grin off his face. We’re not buying it. He’s clearly lapping it up.
“He’s in his element,” Angie says. “The grown-ups are around back. I almost forgot … I’m supposed to send you along.”
I glance tentatively at the open gate and path beyond. “Are you sure I can’t help out here?” I ask. “Get you anything to drink?”
Angie holds up her water bottle. “I’m good. I was just getting to the spicy part in my book, so …” She smiles and waves me away. “Shoo! Go on, then!”
The path dumps me out on another perfectly manicured lawn. A pavilion tent has been set up with round tables inside. The tables are dressed for a tea party. A few adults are gathered around a firepit near the pool. They must be the moms of Lilly’s friends, I think. Or perhaps they are her mom’s friends.
A small, black dog in a familiar-looking cop costume from my shop streaks across the lawn. He’s trailed by a tall, athletic girl I recognize is Lilly. Her streaky, blonde hair is flying out behind her.
“Larry! You get your fat butt back here!” she yells.
“See? I told you I was shopping for my sister’s dog.” Hudson walks toward me, smiling, and takes the gift bag from me. “You didn’t have to actually bring anything!” He peeks inside before depositing the bag on a gift table in the tent. “I bet she’ll love these though!”
“Phew! I had no idea if I was buying the right ones.”
“Can I get you anything?”
I drink him in, feeling thirsty. How is it that I’ve only just met him, yet I’ve missed the sight of him since I last saw him? His deep-blue sweater brings out the dark blue of his eyes.
“Is that linen?” I cannot resist. I reach out to touch his sweater.
“No clue.” He shrugs and catches my hand. He speaks low and close to my ear. “Maybe you need to run your hands all over it and let me know.”
A plume of heat sweeps through me. Hudson watches my reaction, his eyes flickering with the same flame that lit me.
“Or, I could just read the label.” I pluck my hand away, grateful for the cooling autumn breeze.
“You look amazing, by the way.” Hudson’s eyes are still on me, continuing to smolder. “Did you make that dress yourself?”
“Is it that obvious?” I look down, suddenly doubting my clothing choice.
“Only because I know how talented you are,” Hudson says. His fingers lightly trace the seams of my pieced-together dress. “I like how you’ve assembled so many bits together and made something better from them all.”
“Better than them ending up in the landfill,” I say.
“Mm-hmm.” He dips two fingers into my front pocket, stroking the soft, knit fabric between them and his thumb. My eyes close, as if it’s me he’s stroking. He smells so good again. It’s not a cologne. It’s just him.
“Hudson!” Lilly flies past me and flings herself at him. She’s barefoot, wearing jeans and a faded, tie-dyed sweatshirt. She’s a little bit taller than me already, and it’s clear that she’s going to be a giant, like her brother.
“Lilly, this is …” Hudson begins.
“Georgia!” Lilly finishes for him. She sticks out her hand. “We are going to be best friends.”
“Okay.” I smile.
“So, can you believe this bullshit?” Lilly asks us. “Mom still thinks I’m five. She insisted we do a tea party. And she thinks we’re doing a stupid fashion show after. But there’s no way my friends are dressing up. Look at this …”
Lilly drags us to the other side of the tent, lifts a flap, and points to an open part of the lawn where someone has set up racks of clothing, accessories, and photo props. There’s a vanity table staffed by a couple of teenaged makeup artists, and a forty-foot-long red carpet. At the end of the red carpet is a photo booth with a celebrity style, step-and-repeat photo backdrop, emblazoned with Lilly’s name and the number twelve.
My mouth drops open. Lilly peers at me and nods.
“Right? You feel me? Xander and I came up with an alternative plan. But someone has to step up. I’m counting on you two. Do not let me down.” She gives us a sidelong look and nods gravely before skipping off to her table.
