Page 18 of Amelia and Her Prince Charming
The hope in his voice made me steel my spine. No. He was not going to get rid of me that easily. “I’m coming.”
I slid my hand into his and stepped into the boat as gingerly as I could. This would be much easier in pants or shorts, rather than this long dress. I gripped Hudson’s hand so tightly, my fingers hurt. He remained steady, staying right next to me, until I was settled onto the seat. I let out a huge, shaky breath and laughed nervously. “Did I break your hand?”
His concerned gaze made my stomach flip. “Amelia, are you sur—”
“Yes. Let’s go.” I patted the wooden bench across from me.
He finished untying the dinghy and got in carefully, like he was making sure not to shake the boat too much. He retrieved life vests from under the seats for us to both put on and then sat in front of me. My knees pressed into his back. We both shifted and tried to get comfortable in such a small space, but it was going to be impossible. I finally grabbed him by the shoulders and had him lean back into the small gap between my knees. He went still as I pressed my knees to his sides, and then he turned on the dinghy and eased slowly away from the dock.
I let him concentrate as he maneuvered around other, larger boats coming and going, and tried to be chill about being surrounded by water. Most people loved this. Found it super peaceful.
And going slow like this wasn’t bad at all. Hudson waved to a few people as he got farther out, approaching a white line of buoys.
“Hudson,” I began. He cocked his head to the side to indicate he was listening. “Did I do someth—” The engine turned on with a roar, and Hudson peeled into the open ocean.
Okay. I hadn’t considered that it would be too loud to talk over the engine.
I gripped the back of his life vest in my fist as we flew over the water. Mist sprayed out to the sides of us. Logically, I knew wecouldn’t be going that fast, but my heart thought we were going at least a hundred miles an hour. Probably more.
I rested my head on Hudson’s back and saw a small pool of water at our feet. Were we leaking? No. Hudson wouldn’t take me on a boat that was falling apart.
I closed my eyes and felt his steady breathing against my forehead. I tried to match mine to his, slow and calm. I breathed him in, his muscular, sandalwood scent. Let it fill my lungs. I didn’t know Hudson smelled so good. I knew he didn’t smellbad. But I’d never really focused on breathing him in like this and really letting him overflow my senses. It was pleasant, in the kind of way that made me want to wrap my arms around his chest and bury my nose in his back.
“Doing good back there?” he shouted over his shoulder. I felt the rumble of his words more than I heard them.
“Yes,” I said, realizing it was true. Of course it was okay. I had Hudson close, and I trusted him fully and completely. I couldn’t imagine my life without Hudson. Without him, I never would have met Shiloh. Wouldn’t have Quinn. Hudson was the reason I had been able to pick up the pieces of my life again after I went through the worst thing that could ever happen to me.
If I were on a rickety boat in the middle of the ocean, or facing down a moose, or just trying to undo a horrible knot, Hudson never let me down.
Had I let him down, though? Who helped him through his grief when Shiloh died? Who did he call when he was facing down his metaphorical moose? Had I allowed our friendship to become too one-sided, where I took, and he gave? Who could blame him for putting up a wall between us, then?
I finally gave into the urge to wrap my arms around his chest and give him a tight hug. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled into his back. I’d say it again when we got to shore and he could hear me, but itfelt like the words would burst out of me right in that moment if I didn’t say them.
In my mind, Hudson’s presence had always been a given. The iambic pentameter in a Shakespeare sonnet. The layered meaning in a seemingly simple Emily Dickinson poem. A marriage at the end of an Austen novel. The steady, predictable beat my life marched alongside since freshman year of college. One I would be completely lost without.
More than lost. Devastated.
But what was I to him? I didn’t know, but I was determined to find out.
Chapter 12
Hudson
Torture.
Beautiful, amazing, sweet, terrible torture.
That’s what it felt like having Amelia pressed into my back, her arms tight around my chest. She held on as though I was the only thing keeping her from falling through the bottom of the dinghy and sinking straight into the ocean.
Could she hear my heart racing through my lifejacket? Would she know it was for her?
For years, I’d tried to get over Amelia. I’d dated other women. I’d given her and Shiloh space when their relationship grew serious. I placed her firmly in an off-limits box in my brain. And over the years, it became easier to convince myself that my feelings for Amelia were nothing more than friendly. Never sisterly—I wasn’t that delusional—but the kind of friends where we both wanted the other person to be happy.
And she’d been happy with Shiloh. Anyone could see it. They were perfect for each other. Where Shiloh was intense, she provided calm. She met Shiloh’s extroverted, outgoing energy, kindness, and a genuine interest in the people they met. Whenshe’d wanted a wall of bookcases in their dining room, Shiloh had flown me out so I could help him and Dylan build it for her.
I knew they’d had their hard times and their struggles. But I had no doubt their marriage was the kind built to last until they were old, gray, and still holding hands at the dining room table in front of those same bookshelves. No one expected Shiloh would be taken from us so soon. So tragically. In one blink, he was gone.
I still didn’t like to think about the accident on the ice. It was during a game. He’d uncharacteristically fallen, and a player from the other team wasn’t able to stop in time and the sharp part of his skate found a vulnerable spot on Shiloh’s neck.
