31. Kavi
KAVI
“You do that a lot.”
Following Hudson’s gaze to notice what he’s talking about, I look at my thumb. “Fiddling with my ring, you mean?” A chuckle erupts from my lips, and I slide both my hands down to rest on my laptop. “Yeah, I guess I do. Just a habit at this point.”
We’re both in our pajamas—me in one of his button-downs and him in sweatpants and a distracting T-shirt displaying his pecs—working at his dining room table with our laptops out the following Wednesday evening. The RCS project is nowhere close to being done since excavations of that size take months, but I’m trying to write up the project updates so I can hand them back over to Belinda when she returns from maternity leave.
We’ve been staying in touch weekly, and not necessarily about work stuff. Not surprisingly, she asks how things are going between Hudson and me at least three times in our five- to ten-minute conversations. As in, frequently.
After Madison’s wedding, I’d let Hudson know that I’d come clean with Belinda. And though I expected him to be angry, he just sighed, saying he’d prepare himself for the barrage of her questions, but that he had no doubts about her loyalty. She wouldn’t speak of us to anyone.
Truthfully, having someone I can talk to about him, especially someone who knows him too, has been pleasantly reassuring, unlike the response from my mom.
Where Belinda is more accepting of our situation, Mom’s been concerned and somewhat dubious. It’s not that she’s against us being together; she’s just worried about me getting hurt.
Considering Hudson and I have yet to discuss our next steps, my mom isn’t completely wrong, either.
Hudson gently pulls my hand toward him, laying a soft kiss on my knuckles and for whatever reason, I decide to share a bit more. “It was Nathan’s.” I peer down at the silver band on my thumb. “We’d both gotten ones and had them engraved in high school, but I lost mine.” I clear my throat, blinking back the mist collecting inside my eyes. “His mom gave his to me after . . .”
Hudson brushes his thumb over my ring as I trail off. “You turn it whenever you’re nervous.”
Do I? I mull over his words for a moment. I suppose I do. Subconsciously, it helps me relax. Nathan always had a way of calming me down. I suppose, even in death, he’s left me something in lieu of his words to do the same.
“Are you?”
My eyes snap back to Hudson’s. “Am I what?”
“Nervous,” he probes gently, still dragging his thumb over mine.
Yes, I want to admit.
I am. I have been.
After weeks of waiting, I resolved this afternoon to broach the subject of our future myself. I just can’t wait any longer for a conversation we desperately need to have.
I suck in a breath and glance down at our hands. “Yeah, I suppose I am a little.”
Hudson’s mouth pulls downward, his eyes searching my face for more clues. “About what?”
I swallow, feeling like I’m about to step on thin ice, wondering if it’ll support me or crack under my feet. “I wanted to know what you wanted—”
Knock, knock!
Both Hudson and I turn toward the door, and I swiftly rise from my chair. “That must be our food. I’ll get it.”
I don’t know if I’m disappointed or relieved by the interruption, but the short walk to the door gives me a chance to steady my nerves.
My bare feet tap the wooden floors lightly as I mentally prepare for the upcoming conversation with Hudson. Except, when I open the door, there’s no delivery person standing on the other side.
It’s Madison.
My heart skitters to a stop as I gape at her, my breath catching in a soft whisper. “Madison?”
The smile fades from Madison’s face when her gaze travels down my scant clothing and bare legs, her eyes enlarging as she processes what or who she’s looking at.
“Kavi?” Both astonishment and betrayal battle over her features as she tries to compose herself. “Wh-what are you doing at my dad’s house?”
At this point, I’m positive my face is drained of any color aside from the telltale hue of guilt and embarrassment. I’m . . . speechless.
Madison and Brie weren’t supposed to be back from their honeymoon until the end of next week, around the time I was planning to leave Hudson’s apartment.
“You weren’t supposed to be back until next week,” I say hesitantly, though judging by her expression, I’m pretty sure it sounded more accusatory than I’d intended.
“Kav, what’s going—” Hudson’s voice behind me has my hackles rising. Without even looking at him, I know he’s stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of his daughter on the other side of this door, grappling with how to address this strange meeting. “Maddy? What are you doing back so early?”
Madison’s eyes bounce between us. In some alternate reality, Hudson and I could have passed this off as a work meeting, but given my attire—or lack thereof—there’s no way she would buy it. “Brie’s mom was admitted to the hospital for a minor heart issue—”
Both Hudson and I ask similar questions at once about whether she’s okay.
Madison waves her hand. “She’s fine. She felt pain in her back and arm and thought it was a heart attack. They kept her overnight, but she’s okay. After hearing about it, Brie just couldn’t enjoy the rest of our vacation. She wanted to see her mom, so we left. I thought I’d surprise you.” She cuts a glance at her dad before she chuckles, though the usual lightness in her eyes is missing. “But, clearly, it’s the other way around. Care to tell me what’s going on between you two?”
I swing the door open further, inviting her in. My gaze shifts nervously from her to Hudson as I tuck my hair behind my ear. “We were going to tell you when you got ba—”
“It’s not what it looks like.”
To my astonishment, Hudson cuts through my sentence and my head snaps in his direction while my brain rushes to process his words.
It’s not what it looks like? What does he mean, it’s not what it looks like?
It’s fucking exactly what it looks like! That we’ve been sleeping together!
Madison’s blue eyes assess her dad before coming back to me, a hint of pain skittering across her features. “I’m pretty sure this looks exactly as it is. But can you just tell me one thing?” Her gaze stays fixed on me, her jaw tense. “How long has it been going on? Since before or after my wedding?”
I take in a ragged breath, standing in front of her in the foyer on wobbly legs. “Since before.”
“Wow.” She shakes her head in disappointment, huffing out a half-hearted laugh. I know how much she wanted her father to find someone, but for that person to be her friend? I’m not sure she was ever prepared for that. “I-I don’t know what to say.”
“Maddy, why don’t you come in?” Hudson still looks shell-shocked, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s talk about this inside.”
I clear my throat as heat finds my cheeks. “I’m, uh . . .” I struggle for words. “I’m just going to put on some clothes.”
With that, I hastily leave them, almost sprinting to my room as if being chased, before shutting the door behind me.
I lean against the door, trying to catch my breath, when I hear Madison’s incredulous question. “Wait. She lives here? How long?”
Fuck! This is a disaster.
I had every intention of telling Madison the truth—especially after her wedding when Hudson and I established there was more between us—but with her finding out like this, I look like the world’s biggest asshole. Like a friend who not only betrayed her trust, but who exploited her generosity.
She got me this job when I was in a desperate place, struggling to make ends meet, and how do I repay her? By sleeping with her dad.
Of course she’d look disappointed and betrayed. Of course she’d chuckle without an ounce of humor. I’ve fucking deceived her, and she’s literally the only close friend I have.
Not waiting to listen to Hudson’s response to his daughter, I quickly wiggle into a pair of ripped jeans and a T-shirt, securing Nathan’s old red and blue flannel around my waist.
I step out with my purse in hand, because as much as I want to confess and have this conversation with her, I’m not sure she’s looking for an explanation from me first. And if Hudson and I were on the same page with regards to our relationship, I would have tackled this alongside him together.
But given the way it stands now, I decide to go for a walk and give them some privacy to speak alone.
My hope is, once he’s spoken to her, Madison and I can have a heart-to-heart about everything.
She’s reasonable and compassionate, and I’m confident that once she understands how her dad feels about me, we can have a more meaningful conversation. And given that Hudson’s been clear that he does care about me, I can only hope that the tension between all of us—especially the one I felt between Madison and I—will be resolved quickly.
Stepping into the hallway, I pause, gathering my thoughts and my nerves, before striding toward Hudson and Madison on the couch. Our dinner delivery sits untouched on the kitchen counter, the scent of the Thai takeout we’d ordered now making my stomach turn.
I give them both a tentative smile, noting the way Hudson averts his gaze when I look at him. “I’m going to step out for a little bit and give you guys some time to chat.”
Madison rises off the couch, stepping toward me with a softer expression than ten minutes ago. “Kavi, I didn’t mean to come off so . . . harsh—”
“No.” I shake my head as a bolt of sadness hits my chest. I have no idea how to process it, but it feels like everything—her graciousness, Hudson’s strange response, and my own guilt—is winding like a coil inside me. It’s all I can do to not sob. “Your reaction was completely valid, Madison. I just need to get some air.”
With her blonde hair resting over her shoulders, she steps closer, gently taking hold of my biceps. “I get it, but can we talk later?”
God, I wish she’d tell me to fuck off. I wish she’d rage at me about being the deceitful, ungrateful friend I’ve been.
I can barely keep my tears at bay as I nod vigorously before rushing toward the exit.
But it’s not any of that that has me sobbing as soon as I’m outside the door, leaning against the adjacent wall. It’s the fact that not once did Hudson object to me leaving. Not once did he utter a word of his usual concern.
And then it’s the next words out of his mouth—ones I wasn’t supposed to hear, but ones I’m hearing, nonetheless, as I stand outside his front door—that seal our fate, cracking my heart right down the middle.
“Everything just got out of hand. You know me. I can barely manage a relationship in the same city; it was crazy of me to think I could manage something long-distance.” He takes a long pause before clearing his throat. “The terms were clear. It was never meant to be more than a fling.”
I suck in a frayed breath, my fingers trembling over my lips, trying to hold in my sob, along with my urge to vomit. It’s as if I’m being hurled into a past I’ve tried to lock into that small closet I was stuck inside for hours, bleeding and begging to be let out.
The terms were clear . . .
“The terms were clear for your little friend Nate here: pay up on time or pay the price. The rich don’t get richer by making exceptions.”
A void opens up inside me, cavernous and unending, as his words swirl around me. The terms were clear? To fucking whom? Definitely not to me.
I wanted to believe he was different—unlike any of the callused rich pricks I’d had the misfortune of running into during my childhood. But clearly, Vance was right about one more thing—the rich didn’t get richer by making exceptions. And I wasn’t an exception to Hudson, either.
It was never meant to be more than a fling . . .
The two murmur a few more words, but I can’t grasp any of it through the blood pounding inside my ears until I hear Hudson deliver his final blow. A blow that seals our fate. “I’m going to have to be honest with her when she comes back. She deserves that.”
Walking away on wobbly legs, I nod as streams of tears cascade down my cheeks, dripping onto the collar of my old shirt. This was never meant to be more than a fling, was it?
He’d known. He’d seen it exactly for what it was.
Temporary.
Disposable.
Short-lived.
I now understand why Hudson never returned my proclamation of love. Or why he never broached the subject of my move. Or even why he acted so aloof in front of Madison right now.
I understand it now.
Just a little too late.
I was the one who refused to believe it before, who kept thinking we had a chance. That we could beat the odds. It was I who buried the red flags, telling me we were coming to an end. And it was I who thought I could see it all so clearly—us and our happily ever after.
But it’s me who”s been wearing a blindfold this whole time.
An hour and a half later,I shut the door to my childhood bedroom, having excused myself from a conversation with my mom that I couldn’t handle at the moment.
She could tell something was wrong, given I was home on a Wednesday night when I had work the next day, but I gave her a vague explanation about missing home and wanting to spend time here before leaving for Portland.
I’m pretty sure she didn’t fully buy it, but she was so busy trying to fix her broken toaster, she let it slide.
With shards of glass caught inside my throat, I blink slowly, taking in my small familiar room—my bed with its strawberry-printed comforter, the delicate-looking lamp on my nightstand, and the keepsake box sitting on my flimsy dresser.
My feet drag over the carpet as I cover the distance to my dresser, bringing the box toward me.
I haven’t opened it in years . . . a decade, maybe.
Lifting the lid, I peer inside as my heart races through a hazy field of memories. There’s a part of me that wants to slam the box shut and bury this need, these feelings, but I can’t resist the pull today, either.
What is this urge to open it?
I have plenty of reminders of him—his ring, his shirt, his oversized blazer. Every email I’ve written to an account I created for him, pretending he’d be reading on the other side.
But this . . . this was a reminder I’d promised myself I’d never revisit.
And yet, somehow, like it’s a call, a beckoning from deep within me—him?---I decide to confront all my ghosts today.
To unravel completely so I can stitch myself back again.
With shaky hands, I pluck the folded-up piece of paper and bring it to my nose.
It no longer smells like him, though I swear it did the first time I’d held it. And that realization, that I’ve forgotten his scent, bubbles out of me in a choked sob.
“I miss you,” I whisper through trembling lips, tracing his familiar handwriting—Special K—alongside the words, Your mountain is waiting! So . . . get on with your day! scribbled underneath it.
They’d handed it to me a few days after his death. Who’s they? I honestly can’t recall; a teacher, perhaps. They’d found it inside Nathan’s locker, and after talking to some other students, they’d surmised it was for me.
Sniffling, I open the note, but something—God knows what—has my head lifting toward my small walk-in closet.
And for reasons I don’t quite understand—perhaps to both unbury my ghosts and face all my fears alone—I find myself hobbling toward it, clutching my phone tightly in my other hand.
Taking a shuddering breath and working through the panic rising inside me, I step inside the dark, enclosed space, shutting the door behind me.
I can do this.
I will do this.
Falling to the floor and finding a wall behind me as an anchor, I heave in a few gulps of air, feeling like there’s already a shortage of oxygen. A frenzy awakens at the outskirts of my mind, urging me to run, to free myself, but a voice inside comforts me, telling me I’m safe, that the fear is all in my head.
I reach for my phone, illuminating the small space using its flashlight. It’s not much, but it’s enough to quell some of the tension and give me a sense of control.
A shiver runs through me as I open his note, shining the light over it, and reading it for the second time in my life.
My Special K,
One flare, one spark can light up an abyss.
You’ve always been mine.
And I will forever be yours.
~N