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

28. Baby Ducks and Snuggles

Allie

I’m in love.Like fully, completely in love, which is a huge problem. Enormous. And even worse, I’m relatively certain it’s unsolvable. When we woke up the next morning, the power was on so we were able to make a big breakfast together while we waited for the snowplow. Eggs, bacon, and pancakes. Followed by some plowing of our own until the road was cleared—wink, wink. We held hands almost the entire way home. That’s five hours of hand-holding. By the time we got back, it was too late to bother going into the office, so Hudson dropped me off at my place, where I quickly showered and packed an overnight bag, grabbed a loaf of peasant bread to-go, then explained to my parents that I’m thirty-five, a responsible not-so-young woman, and that I was going to spend the night at Gwen’s because Ty is out of town. So not only am I in love with a man who’s definitely going to break my heart, I’m also turning into something I hate—a liar. But honestly? Totally worth it because the D is fire.

Anyway, it’s now Saturday morning, and I’m laying here in Hudson’s bed, watching him sleep. I know it’s creepy, but honestly, I can’t stop. I want to drink in every last drop of whatever time we have together. And there’s a tiny part of me that believes this might, just maybe, be forever. I’m trying my level best to convince her that this isn’t a permanent situation—because it’s not. It’s just a fling. But she’s not buying it.

Every cell of my body, every bit of grey matter in my brain, all of it, belongs to him. This is so different than with Lando. First of all, what I thought was good sex was actually garbage. Lando had absolutely no game. I just didn’t have a frame of reference. I guess I should’ve realized it though, based on his lack of interest in my satisfaction. With Lando, I had to race to make sure I got there before him, because he was definitely going to fall asleep ten seconds after he was done without a thought to whether or not I had a good time. Also different is the complete lack of red flags with Hudson. Well, other than the crazy fans and the trolls, but those aren’t his fault. Plus, I can totally learn to ignore them. I’d happily light a torch to my iPhone and get myself a flip phone so I can live in ignorant bliss for the rest of my life if it means I get to be with him.

Although if I did that, it would be so much harder to text my bestie, which would totally suck. I pick up my phone, only to see a message from her.

Gwen

How’s our sleepover going? Are we having fun?

Me

SO. MUCH. FUN. I’m exhausted but also have never had more energy in my entire life, if that makes sense.

Gwen

Totally does. Let me guess, you’re lying there watching him sleep?

Me

How’d you know?

Gwen

Been there. In fact, doing that right now, to be honest.

Me

Ha! Same brain.

Gwen

Aren’t you glad you took my advice and slept with him?

Me

Not sure yet. Immediate Gratification Allie is thrilled, but Future Allie might be furious with me for listening to you. He’s leaving in a matter of days. What if I never see him again? Do you know how far it is to Malibu from here? 5 h 53 min by car, 2 days by bike, and 6 days of walking! That’s a long fucking walk, Gwen.

Gwen

First of all, that’s what airplanes are for. Second, you wouldn’t walk to visit him if he lived five blocks from your house, so why are you looking up the amount of time it’ll take to do something you’re never going to do?

Me

Because I might be panicking a little here.

Gwen

You might be? Girl, you are full-on panicking. But seriously, I’ve seen how he looks at you. It’s the real thing. Now let yourself enjoy this moment. It’s the start of something amazing for you.

Me

How can you be sure? He’s never been in love before, which seems odd since he’s nearly forty and can pretty much snap his fingers and any number of women would come running, all of whom would be ready to have his children. So the question is, what’s been holding him back? And is it remotely possible that whatever it is won’t be an issue with me? Which leads me to the next question—what makes me so freaking special? Because honestly, I don’t get it.

Gwen

I’m not even dignifying that last garbage question with an answer. Don’t overthink this. Ty was over forty when I met him and he’d never been in love before either. Maybe H has been waiting for you this whole time.

Me

Aww. That’s so sweet. Highly unlikely, but sweet. Also, even if he is in love with me, he could easily change his mind about me and realize that we’re just too different. I mean, we really are. We’re complete opposites.

Gwen

Ty just woke up and told me to tell you you’re overthinking this whole thing. He also suggests you stop laying there watching H sleep because it’s creepy and he hates it when I do it.

Me

Okay. Tell Ty thanks for the tip. The last thing I want is for H to know how creepy I am. ;)

Gwen

Gotta go. We’ve got some stuff to do. Just let yourself enjoy this moment, Al. You deserve to be treated like he treats you. Because you are totally a queen.

I put my phone down and stare at Hudson for another few seconds. Just look at him, sleeping there like a hot, muscle-bound angel. So content and peaceful. And hot. He’s the world’s best distraction from my failing career. My gut twists when Frank pops back into my mind. The time away from him hasn’t helped spark any creative solutions for how to get him to separate out the fake alien signals from the real noise. I keep waiting for some inspiration, but it’s not happening and time is running out fast. Gah! I should go back to the office and get to work because spending the day relaxing and having sex with this gorgeous, gorgeous man isn’t exactly going to get me anywhere. But … sex…

His eyes flutter and before I can look away, he’s staring at me. “Were you watching me sleep?”

“Yes, but not in a stalker way. More like … just imprinting you on my memory.”

“Like a baby duck?”

“Exactly,” I tell him. “It was either stare and commit you to memory or take unauthorized photos and I thought you probably wouldn’t like the second one.”

“Yeah, that would feel creepy.” His phone chimes and he reaches over and picks it up off the night table. “That’s my brother.”

“Oh, do you want me to hide?” I ask, pulling the sheet up to my nose.

He laughs at me. “No! Of course not.” Swiping the screen, he says, “Hey, buddy.”

A man that sounds a lot like him says, “I’ve only got ten minutes before I have to be out the door, so we need to make this quick.”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Hudson says. After a second, his voice goes up two octaves. “How’s my boy? How’s Oscar?”

I narrow my eyes in confusion for a second, then lean in so I can see the screen. An adorable brown mini-wiener dog is filling up the screen. He’s not looking at the screen and he doesn’t seem to be reacting to Hudson’s voice.

“Hey, Oscar! Do you want to meet Allie?” he asks, turning the phone so I’m now in view of the camera.

“Hi, Oscar. You’re so cute.” Turning to Hudson, I say, “Man, he’s cute.”

Suddenly the video goes blurry and I’m staring at Hudson’s brother. “Oh, so this is Allie!”

My face goes immediately hot with embarrassment. This is not the time to meet new people. What if I look like I smell bad? “Hi,” I say, giving him a small wave. Thank God, I’m wearing a pair of silk pajamas from the hospital haul. “Nice to meet you, Gershwyn.”

“You too,” he says. “My brother won’t shut up about you.”

Now my skin is hot with the best compliment ever. Grinning at him, I say, “Really? What’s he been saying?”

“Oh, just that you’re?—.”

“She doesn’t want to hear that,” Hudson says in an urgent tone.

I smile wider now. “Oh yes, she does. Every last word.”

“He said you’re super-hot and that he loves watching you work because you always tuck a pencil behind your ear even though you never use it, except the one time when you were writing down your lunch order, and that?—”

“Yeah, okay, that’s enough,” Hudson tells him. “She already knows the great things about Allie because she’s been living with her for years.”

“Some would say my entire life,” I add. “But it’s always nice to hear nice things about yourself, so please do go on, Gershwyn.”

“He can’t because he’s in a big rush,” Hudson says.

Gershwyn nods, then says, “Actually I do have to run, but there’s a bit of a work thing I need to talk to you about first.”

I take that as my cue. “I’ll leave you boys to talk business. Nice to meet you Gershwyn.”

“You too, Allie. I hope we’ll meet in person sometime.”

I slide out of bed and into a pair of slippers before rushing out of the room and closing the door behind me. As soon as I’m in the kitchen, my stomach growls, and I realize I’ve expended way more calories than I normally do on a Friday night, watching TV with my parents.

I dig around in his fridge and pantry, finding some eggs, a jar of red peppers, and some cloves of garlic. Grabbing the peasant bread, I cut four thick slices, then set out the rest of the ingredients to make eggs-in-the-hole when Hudson finishes his phone call. Next, I brew a pot of coffee, so happy, I’m practically singing to myself a la Snow White. He’s been talking to his brother about me, and the particular detail he told him isn’t something you’d share about someone you consider a fling. I wonder what else Hudson’s been saying.

I pour myself a mug of coffee with cream and sugar, then wander into the living room, spotting the script for his movie on the side table next to the sofa. Settling myself on the sofa, I pick up the script and turn to page one. “Let’s have a peek.”

I stare at it for a second before I realize the font is one I’ve seen before. It’s used by people who have dyslexia. My heart stops for a second, as it hits me. Hudson has dyslexia.

The door to the bedroom swings open, and I quickly shut the script and get up. His bare feet slap against the hardwood floor as he wanders in wearing only a pair of low-slung pajama bottoms, looking all sexy-disheveled, with his thick brown hair standing straight up in the back. My heart surges when he looks at me and smiles. “There you are. I thought maybe you decided to leave me and went back to Frank.”

“Don’t worry,” I say, walking over and giving him a kiss. “I’m not the type to get it and forget it.”

“Lucky me,” he answers, pulling me into his arms and leaving a trail of soft kisses down my neck.

My stomach growls in response, and he lets go of me. Grinning, he says, “But first, food.”

“I’m going to make you a family favorite,” I answer, letting go of him even though I don’t want to and walking over to the stove. “Eggs-in-the-hole with red peppers.”

“Sounds amazing,” he says. “Can I help?”

Shaking my head, I smile at him. “Just keep me company while I cook.”

He pours himself a coffee and leans back against the counter next to me while I sauté the peppers and garlic. “A woman of many talents.”

“Yes, I can fry things at will,” I answer. “Say, I had a peek at your script.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks. “Did you find any glaring technical mistakes?”

“I only looked at the first page, but I couldn’t help but notice the font.”

He freezes for a fraction of a second, but it’s long enough for me to know the truth. Giving me an easy smile, he says, “Oh really? Are you a big font aficionado?”

“No, but I’ve seen that one before when I was working on a joint project with a team at NASA. It’s for people with dyslexia.” I look up from the pan to try to gauge his reaction.

He’s suddenly very interested in his coffee. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” I tell him.

He pushes away from the counter and walks over to the island. Plunking down onto a stool, he says, “That’s weird. Why would they use that font?”

“Because fifty percent of the people at NASA are dyslexic.”

His face turns a little pink, but he manages to keep a nonchalant expression. “Seriously? How’d that happen?”

“It happened when the people who run NASA figured out that dyslexia often comes with an ability to map out problems in one’s brain, which leads to creative problem solving that other people can’t do.”

“Huh, well, you learn something new every day,” he says, having a sip of coffee.

I turn back to the stove and slide the peppers and garlic onto a plate. Adding more butter to the pan, I then place the slices of bread in and start cracking eggs into each hole. The entire time, I’m waiting for him to admit it. To tell me himself. But he doesn’t say anything. My heart picks up its pace a little. He’s definitely trying to avoid the topic, and I’m not sure how he’ll react if I push it. But, after all the things we’ve said and done, surely he can admit something so minor to me. When I turn back to face him, he’s staring at the island while he chews his bottom lip.

“You okay?” I ask him.

He smiles up at me, the mask of the happy go-lucky A-lister returning. “I’m great. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“No reason,” I say. “It’s not something to be ashamed of. I mean, if a person has dyslexia.”

He tightens his jaw. “Yeah, well, that’s easy for you to say. You don’t have it.”