Love Signals: An opposites-attract, forced proximity, only one bed, revenge romantic comedy (Love St

12. Family Phone Calls and Annoyingly Beautiful Doctors

Allie

I should leave.That would be the smart thing to do. While I have been getting a lot of work done on my laptop, I can do so much more back at the office with two screens. But Hudson did get a life-threatening, potentially permanently damaging injury while trying to save my hysterical ass. Staying would be the right thing to do. And he looks so vulnerable lying there in the hospital bed. Somehow still manly, but also vulnerable. Huh, why can’t those two coexist in my mind more easily? I should probably do some digging into my own toxic masculinity when I get a chance. But first, I should go back to the office. “Sure, I’ll stay.”

Dammit, why’d I say that?

Oh, that’s why. Look at that smile on his face. I wouldn’t half mind helping him get rid of that erection myself. God, I hope he can’t read my mind.

“Thanks. I don’t really want to be alone right now.” He lets out a sigh of relief. “Are you sure you don’t need to be anywhere?”

Shaking my head, I say, “No. I’m fine to stay.”

He takes a sip of water, then lays his head back against the pillow again. “Who’s at home waiting for you?”

Is that a smooth way of finding out if I’m with someone? Because, fuck me, that was smooth. “My parents,” I tell him, feeling suddenly embarrassed.

“Oh, you live with your parents?”

“No… Well, yeah, I do, but I used to not live with them, so it’s not like I’ve never done all the adulting.” Done all the adulting? I’m turning into a complete idiot in front of this man. “I lived with a roommate for years. Well, Gwen. You know her.”

“Ah, right, Gwen—astrobiologist who spends a lot of time texting her billionaire boyfriend.”

“That’s the one,” I say with a little grin. “She’s the best. Anyway, my dad had a stroke a few years ago so I moved back home to help them out.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says, and by God, he does seem sincere. “How’s he doing now?”

“Great. Pretty much one-hundred-percent. In fact, he’s been fully recovered for a couple of years now so I suppose I should move out again. That probably sounds pathetic to you. Living with my parents, in my old bedroom with my tiny twin bed.”

Shaking his head, Hudson says, “Not at all. I think it’s nice that you’re close to your family. I live with my brother. Some people think it’s weird.”

“It’s not weird,” I tell him, leaning forward in my chair a little. “What’s weird is how separate we all are from our families here in America. Most cultures are a lot closer to their extended family than we are. They live together and cook together and help each other raise the children.”

Hudson’s eyes light up. “Exactly. I love that idea. A few years ago, I was filming in the Philippines, and a lot of the local crew members lived in multigenerational households. There was a key grip that invited me for dinner a few times and I really loved hanging out there. It was kind of chaotic, but in a good way, you know?”

“That sounds like my house every Sunday.”

“Big crowd?”

Nodding, I say, “Everybody shows up, and everyone has to help, no matter what, which means there are way too many cooks in the kitchen. It’s so freaking loud.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

“It can be unless you need to be someplace else. Like this Sunday is a holiday my family made up called Landing Day. It’s to celebrate the day they arrived in the US. It’s a huge deal, and I’ll be stuck cooking all day when I should be working.”

“Well, surely they’ll let you off the hook this time.”

Shaking my head, I say, “Not a chance. It’s the fortieth anniversary this year so they’re pulling out all the stops. I mean, it’s wonderful and I’m happy we do it, but the timing for me…”

“Gotcha.”

“In the big scheme of things, I know it’s a good problem to have. I’m lucky. My dad made a full recovery and I have a close-knit family which is more than a lot of people get, but I could also use a little more independence,” I say. “Or a time machine so I could pause time for the rest of the world and finish this project.”

“Maybe you should be working on that,” he says with a grin. After a second, he glances down and says, “Hey! I’m back to normal!”

I look at his midsection and see that indeed, his sheet tent is gone. Huh, and all it took was a conversation with me. “Well, that’s got to be a relief.”

Hudson lets out a big sigh. “It sure is. I was really worried.”

“I bet. Now the trick will be to make sure it’ll go back the other way when you want it to.”

Oh shit, I should not have said that. Based on the shocked look on his face, that was something he hadn’t considered. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it, so I add, “Not that it should be a problem. I’m sure everything’s fine. It just might be … fatigued for a day or two.”

He nods, that easy-going look returning to his face. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re right.”

“Definitely,” I answer, clicking my teeth while I give him the ‘okay’ sign for some reason. “Everything is going to be right as rain before you know it.”

Right as rain? Am I suddenly British now? Oh my God, stop talking.

Tala, the nurse, walks back into the room, carrying a tray of food. The smell hits my nostrils and my stomach growls immediately. She sets the tray on the overbed table. “Here you go, Mr. Finch.”

“Thanks, Tala,” he says. “You’re the best.”

God, that smells good. I am so freaking hungry right now.

Lowering her voice, Tala says, “And remember, this stays between us.”

What stays between them?

“Of course,” he answers, pretending to zip his lips and throw away the key. Somehow, the movement of his hand startles him, and he jumps a bit, then stares down at the floor where the imaginary key would’ve landed.

She glances at me and mutters, “No more drugs for him for a few hours.”

As soon as she leaves, Hudson reaches up and pushes the table toward me. “Your dinner, milady.”

Shaking my head, I say, “I can’t eat your supper. That’s for you.”

“No, it’s for you. There’s no way I can eat right now, not with the way I’m feeling. But I figured you might be hungry.”

“You did?” I ask, getting a waft of something that reminds me of Chipotle.

“Yeah, scoring you some food is the least I can do since you’ve blown a whole day watching me sleep. Dig in.”

I stare at the tray, which holds what looks like some sort of chicken, beans, and rice bowl, a small bowl of tortilla chips with salsa, a chocolate pudding, and a glass of what I’m pretty sure is ginger ale. “What if we split it? Or we save it for you in case you get hungry later?”

“How about this? I’ll take the ginger ale, you have the rest, and if I get hungry later, I promise I’ll tell you.”

“Deal,” I tell him, standing and pushing the table toward him so he can reach the drink. I take the bowl and fork off the tray and sit back down to eat it while he has a sip of his ginger ale.

His phone buzzes and he reaches over and plucks it off the bedside table. “It’s my mom. I should take this.”

“Do you want me to leave?” I kind of want to leave. His parents made me uneasy when I spoke to them earlier. They’re both super formal and they kept going on and on about the paperwork, wanting to make sure I filled everything out so Hudson wouldn’t have to do it. Seriously strange. Who cares about paperwork when their son’s life is hanging in the balance?

“No, definitely stay,” he says before he answers her call. “Hey, Mom, how are you?” Pause. “Oh, Dad’s there too and you’ve got me on speaker phone? Great.” He gives me a ‘this should be fun’ face. “I’ve had better days, but in the big scheme of things, I’m all right.” Pause. “Yeah, I know, but I thought it was a tarantula.” He has another sip while he listens to her. “No, definitely don’t get on a plane and come here. I’m fine. Honestly. I told Gersh not to bother coming back either. It’s all good.” Pause. “I’m pretty sure Allie took care of all the forms.”

Again with the forms?

He gives me a questioning look and I nod. “Yup, it’s all taken care of.”

I eat quickly, glad that he’s distracted by the call instead of staring at me while I shovel food into my mouth. Mmm, not half bad for hospital food. Although I haven’t eaten since breakfast so I’m pretty sure I’d happily scarf down stale bread and cold baked beans right now.

“Don’t believe everything they say on television. They’re just trying to turn it into a bigger story than it is.” He smiles at me for a second and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but I did get to the hospital on time.”

I set the empty bowl on the tray and stare at the pudding for a second. Should I eat the pudding? I really want to eat the pudding.

As if he can read my mind, Hudson gestures for me to take it and mouths, “Eat the pudding.”

I mouth back, “Are you sure?”

Nodding, he says, “No, the movie is about an astronomer so I’m pretty sure I won’t be in any danger. Wait, I’ll put you on speaker phone so you can hear it from the real deal.” Pause. “Yeah, she’s still here. She stayed with me the whole day so you’ve got nothing to worry about. They’re taking good care of me.”

He presses the screen on his phone, then holds the phone closer to me. “Allie, tell them there won’t be any more dangerous animals.”

“I promise there won’t be any more dangerous animals. Well, unless your son buys me another fruit basket,” I say, feeling super awkward.

“How’s he really doing?” Hudson’s mom, Dolores, asks. “Is he as okay as he says he is?”

“He’s doing really well. He’s actually been sitting up drinking ginger ale and chatting with me about life,” I tell her, noticing how very green his eyes are. They’re like a bed of moss in a sunlit forest. Oh wow, I’m losing it.

“When will they let you go home?” Douglas, his father, asks.

“Not sure,” he says. “I’m guessing they’re going to keep me until tomorrow.”

“Well, if they do let you go home tonight, I don’t want you to be alone,” Dolores says. “Allie, is there somewhere he can stay the night?”

I’m just about to tell her he can stay at my house when Hudson cuts in. “Mom, they won’t release me if it’s not safe for me to be alone.”

“But if they do…”

“They won’t.”

“Allie, if you think they’re letting him go too early, you call me. All right?” she says.

“Or stay with him,” his dad adds.

“Of course,” I tell them. “I promise I won’t abandon him if he’s not one-hundred-percent fine.”

“Thank you,” his mother says. “That makes me feel much better.”

“Glad I can help,” I answer.

“Okay, we’ll let you go so you can rest up,” Douglas says.

“We’re glad you’re okay,” Dolores says. “And thank you, Allie, for taking such good care of my son.”

“It’s the least I can do after he saved my life,” I tell them.

“I’m also the reason your life was in danger to begin with,” Hudson says. “Okay, Mom and Dad, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

He hangs up and smiles at me, looking adorably embarrassed. “You don’t have to babysit me. Seriously. I’m a grown ass man.” He rubs the back of his neck and shakes his head at himself. “A grown ass man who asked you to stay because he doesn’t want to be alone.”

I chuckle, then say, “Don’t worry about it. I meant what I said to your parents. You were heroic today. Making sure you’re okay is literally the least I can do.”

The door swings open, and Tala and the doctor from the ER walk into the room. I’m not a huge fan of the ER doc, to be honest. She’s way too beautiful, calm, cool, and collected for my taste. Also, I hate it when doctors tell you to call them by their first name, as if it’s less pretentious to call her Dr. Blaire than by her last name. I prefer my doctors on the frumpy and formal side.

Dr. Blaire walks around to the opposite side of the bed from me and pats Hudson on the arm. “Hudson, how are we feeling?”

Blech. How are we feeling? Hate that.

“Pretty good,” he answers.

Her eyes flick to the sheet. “I see that’s gone.” Looking at me, she says, “Do you mind giving us a minute?”

The way she says it is as if I should’ve known to leave, and my cheeks heat up a bit as I stand. Grabbing my bag, I say, “Of course,” then hightail it out of there.

When the door closes behind me, I let out a sigh. What is happening right now? I dig around in my bag until I find my phone, only to see dozens of text messages, most of which are from my team, wanting to know how Hudson is doing.

I quickly write to Gwen:

Me

Hudson’s awake. He’s doing much better. The doc is in with him now. Can you please pass this along to the rest of the team?

A second later, my phone pings.

Gwen

I’m on it! So glad he’s doing all right!

I call home and wait three rings for my parents to pick up. When I glance at my watch, I see it’s a little after eight o’clock, which means they’re watching The Voice. My dad finally picks up. “Allegra, there you are. We’ve been worried sick.”

In the background, I hear my mom say, “Your father’s been worried. I told him you’re at the office.”

“Nothing to worry about, Pops,” I tell him. “But I’m not at the office. I’m actually at the hospital.”

“Dio santo! She’s at the hospital,” he says. “I told you something was wrong.”

“What happened?” my mom says, her voice getting closer. “Put her on speaker, Enzo.”

The phone clicks and I can hear that I’m now on speaker phone. “I’m fine, but Hudson got bit by a spider.”

“Hudson who?” my dad asks.

Oh Lord. Here we go. My mom is going to be so annoyed that he forgot.

“The one who’s following her around at work. You know, we watched Allegra meet him on Entertainment Nightly.”

“Oh right, him,” my dad says. “Is he even a big star? I can’t think of a movie of his I’ve seen.”

“That one about the lifeguard,” I tell him.

“With the blonde woman with the huge knockers?”

“Enzo, you can’t say knockers anymore. It’s not politically correct,” Ma says.

“Can I say cans?”

Why couldn’t they have just let the call go to voicemail?“Dad, it’s better to find other ways to describe people than breast size.”

“But it’s true. And she had them made that big so clearly she wants people to notice them,” he says.

I glance at the door to Hudson’s room, finding myself suddenly desperate to get off the phone. “Not necessarily, but I don’t have time to talk about it right now. I need to check on Hudson. I just wanted to let you know where I was and tell you I may not make it home tonight.”

“Is he that bad?” my mom asks.

“It’s not great, but I think he’ll be fine.”

“If he’ll be fine, you should come home,” my dad says, and I know he doesn’t want me hanging around with a famous actor who isn’t even a little bit Italian.

“I really can’t. He doesn’t have anyone else here to help him out.”

“That’s fine, dear,” Ma says. “We have to go too. Looks like Reba’s pissed at Chance the Rapper for blocking her again.”

“All right. Enjoy.”

I hang up, then stand, staring at the door to Hudson’s room. Hudson, the sweet, thoughtful, charming, handsome man who is totally going to crush my little heart.