6. Hudson
The next thing Hudson knew,it was Friday afternoon, and it was Wedding Day. As a groom did the day he legally binded himself to another person until death did them part (or, one calendar year passed), he woke up to do the first shift at Cafe Kaffe to caffeinate the masses.
The whole friend group, having invited themselves to Alana and Hudson’s wedding ceremony, agreed to meet at the subway closest to City Hall so they could all go there together.
Hudson had just enough time to run home, shower quickly, and change into his suit. He knew he didn’t have to, but it was a wedding. Even though it wasn’t a real one.
Hudson and JP got to the station a few minutes before everyone else did, and waiting for Alana felt almost like waiting for his prom date to arrive, except the stakes for this were so much higher than any prom-related thing had ever been.
Which was silly. They were just two friends who were going to run a quick errand together and their friends were going to join them.
Okay, said errand was marriage, but not really.
He was lecturing himself about staying calm, cool, and collected when Alana walked out of the subway station wearing a little white dress and a fascinator, and he almost swallowed his tongue.
She looked devastating. That was the only word for it.
“Hi,” he managed.
“You look great,” Alana said.
He shrugged. “I figured I should dress up a bit for the occasion. Would have looked odd if I showed up in my cafe clothing and you showed up as you.”
“I wouldn’t have minded,” Alana said.
Getting married took a total of fifteen minutes, and the clerks did in fact love her nails.
The officiant was a no-nonsense woman who had already married ten other couples that day.
They exchanged vows, prompted by the officiant. Hudson nearly stumbled over the phrase ‘lawfully wedded wife’, the first inklings of doubt creeping in. What was he even doing? It was one thing to be kind of a little bit obsessed with your friend, it was another thing entirely to legally bind yourself to them in marriage. This could only end in disaster and heartbreak for him.
But he had promised Alana he would do this, and by signing one piece of paper he could help her in ways he wouldn’t be able to otherwise. Sure, there was also the selfishness of being able to quit the coffee shop and try his hand at really making art full time, but this made all of it seem more selfless, and somehow that was enough to help him sleep at night. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring box Alana had given him on the walk over to the courthouse.
It was real, now.
He pulled out not only the wedding rings Alana had bought for them, but also another ring that he had made for her by one of his artist friends. Was it too much? Probably. Did it show all his cards? He hoped not.
Alana looked down at the ring as he slid it onto her finger, her eyes suspiciously wet.
“Hudson…”
“Did you think I was gonna let you go through this without sparkles?”
Her lip wobbled, and she leaned close to him. “I didn’t know how you felt about diamonds or moissanite or whatever, but I figured you should save that experience for your real wedding one day.”
“It’s perfect,” Alana replied, and for a few blissful moments, Hudson pretended that this was real. That everything was real, and that he was wildly in love with the most magical woman he had ever met and was committing to spend the rest of his life with her.
“You may now kiss the bride,” the officiant said, and Hudson looked down at Alana, waiting, making sure that she was okay with it.
And then he cradled her face in his hands, and the full force of her attention was on him, the undivided attention of those brown eyes was a drug. Whoever she actually married one day was the luckiest person Hudson didn’t know, and he hated them already.
Their lips touched, and all rational thoughts fled. So much for just a peck. Hudson had started off softly, but the second their lips touched, all the latent chemistry they had been ignoring for the past three years showed up and smacked him in the face.
“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Miller,” the officiant said, startling them both.
Alana managed to nod and smile and finish signing the paperwork, but his mind was miles away, back in that kiss.
Fuck, he was in so much trouble. How was he supposed to do this now?
He snuck the smallest glance over to Alana, but she was finishing the paperwork, signing her name.
She was his wife now.
Well, not really. But in the eyes of the law and Alana’s misogynistic doctor, she was, and that was what counted.
And then they were outside of the courthouse, marriage certificate in hand, and the world was theirs for the taking.
“You ready?” JP asked, startling Hudson from the little marriage bubble he had somehow found himself in.
“For what?”
JP grinned. “Your wedding reception.”
Hudson Miller was now a married man, and he had no fucking idea how to feel about it. He glanced over at his new wife, who was badgering his roommate about springing surprise wedding receptions on them, and wondered what deity had woken up drunk that morning and decided to have things happen the way they did.
In no actual human timeline would Alana Bruckner date him, let alone marry him, yet here she was, holding his hand, the ring he bought for her sparkling on her finger.
Sure, it was all fake.
But damn, if it didn’t feel just a little bit real.
It didn’t help that they were sitting at the park on what was possibly the world’s largest picnic blanket, under an enormous American Elm. There was champagne and three different charcuterie boards, a banner draped from one of the branches, congratulating them on their wedding, and a whole ass playlist put together for the occasion.
“While I’ll never turn down a good cheese board,” Alana said from her spot next to him, “this really wasn’t necessary.” She glanced over at the pile of gifts in the corner. “Especially not whatever the hell you guys wrapped in wrapping paper.”
“They’re wedding presents,” Shannon said, trying to seem innocent and doing a terrible job.
“We’re not actually married,” Alana pointed out.
“Uh, Alana? We were all there. We all watched you do the exchanging vow thing. I was your legal witness. Signed the paper and everything.”
“Not the point.” Alana leaned back a little, the picture of picnic comfort. Shoes off, dress spread around thighs that Hudson would have sold his soul for another chance to bury himself between, hair swirling around her shoulders like some sort of Raphaelite painting, if Raphael had painted women with a love for false lashes and purple hair.
Sometimes he looked at Alana and wished he painted. And then he reminded himself that lusting over a woman you just married for health insurance reasons was possibly the worst idea he’d ever had.
“So, where’s the honeymoon going to be?” JP asked.
Hudson blinked. “Are you offering to pay for one?”
“Would you really go if I did?”
Hudson turned to Alana. “A free vacation?” she said. “Sign me the fuck up, I’ll figure out work.”
There was an unholy gleam in JP’s eye. “Wellll,” he drawled.
“JP, what did you do.”
“Wasn’t just me,” JP protested. “Although it was my idea.”
“I’m so scared,” Alana whispered.
“Same,” Hudson agreed.
“Oh, you shouldn’t be scared. Just think of this as Marriage Boot Camp, part two.”
“Before we were at ‘the top of a rollercoaster’ scared,” Alana said. “We’ve escalated to ‘there’s an enormous roach staring at me’ kind of terror.”
“You’re that scared of the big roaches?” Hudson asked, surprised. He knew it was silly but there was something about Alana that made her seem invincible. She was one of the most brilliantly innovative and competent women he had ever had the pleasure of meeting. Invincible women, as far as Hudson knew, were not terrified of roaches of any size.
“They crunch.” Alana shuddered. “It’s gross. I can deal with the small ones, but once the exoskeleton makes noise, I am out.”
“Since neither of you are working tomorrow,” JP continued, ignoring the roach conversation, “we’re sending you on a three day, two night stay at the Ardsley Resort in the honeymoon suite.”
Alana’s eyes widened. “Are you for real?”
“Am I supposed to know what the Ardsley Resort is?” Hudson asked.
“It’s the one with the bathtub!” Alana squealed. She reached over and hugged JP. “I know you did it to be annoying, but I’ve been dreaming of a bathtub for so long.”
“I packed your cleaning supplies,” Shannon said. “Along with the rest of your shit. The limo is coming to meet you two at the edge of the park in a few minutes.”
Hudson eyed JP, who had a shit-eating grin. “It’s a nice place,” he said to Hudson. “Change of scenery can’t hurt. Maybe you’ll be inspired. And then you can practice being married to a whole new set of people.”
“Do you not believe we can bullshit our way through one singular doctor’s appointment?” Hudson asked. To be honest, he hadn’t been sure before, but after the kissing of the bride…well, he had almost believed it was real.
JP shrugged. “Doctor’s offices are a different kind of pressure.”
“Then lying to the government?”
“Well, you didn’t really lie.”
Hudson raked a hand through his hair and sighed. “Whatever.”
“I packed your art trip bags,” JP said. “Go and try to find something to inspire you. A house. A garden.” He waggled his eyebrows. “A wife, perhaps.”
If only JP knew how many of Hudson’s art pieces had actually been inspired by said ‘wife’. Then again, it was a good thing he didn’t.
“One last toast before you’re whisked away in your magical horse-powered carriage,” Deacon suggested.
Alana snickered.
Everyone lifted a glass. “To Alana and Hudson,” Matilda said, holding up a glass of ginger ale. “May their marriage be wildly successful.”
“Cheers!” Everyone chorused.
Alana caught Hudson’s eye and grinned. “I’m down for wild success,” she said, clinking her glass to his. “To removing wombs and making art.”
“Amen,” Hudson replied, and took a sip of ginger ale.
The limo arrived, and because their friends refused to half-ass anything, they were sent into traffic with a shower of rice and catcalling, attracting attention from the tourists who were clustered around the edge of the park.
“Oh, look at them,” one woman gushed as Hudson helped Alana into the limo. “Oh, how precious.”
“A real New York wedding,” her friend agreed. “How…different.” She lowered her voice, but not enough to be quiet. “Sinful, isn’t it. Getting married in a park and not a church. There probably wasn’t even a priest there.”
Hudson, who had never stepped foot in a church in his entire life, tried to contain his laughter. Alana definitely did not.
“Nothing makes me happier than having old ladies accuse me of being sinful,” Alana said as Hudson slid into the limo and settled next to her. “That”s why I wear my pearls. So I can clutch them myself.”
Hudson glanced at Alana’s jewelry. “Pearls?” he repeated.
“Oh, they’re not visible,” Alana said cheerfully, and Hudson almost swallowed his tongue. “Anyway.” She leaned back in the seat. “That was weird, wasn’t it?”
“What was?”
“Getting married. Having a wedding party in the park. This. I dunno, this whole situation.”
Hudson sighed. “Yup.”
“Any regrets?”
“No,” Hudson rushed to reassure her. “Do you?”
“Only that I didn’t bring cheese for the road,” Alana replied.
The Ardsley Resort was modeled after Victorian-era mansions, and was located on a sprawling estate in Westchester, full of manicured gardens and more than enough for Hudson and Alana to entertain themselves.
After thanking the limo driver, they (and their luggage) headed to the foyer where they were greeted by a member of the hotel staff.
“Mr. and Mrs. Miller!” she exclaimed. “Congratulations on your wedding! We’re so excited to be hosting the two of you here at the Ardsley Resort. If you’ll follow me, we can get you checked in and up to your suite.”
Checking in took no time at all, and the next thing Hudson knew, they were standing silently in an elevator alone with a rolling cart of their luggage, watching the numbers flash on the small screen until the elevator stopped at the penthouse.
“How much money did this cost?” Alana whispered as the elevator doors slid open. “What kind of Groupon did they manage to finagle for this situation?”
Hudson shrugged. “I suspect JP may have called some of the singers he works with for a recommendation, so I have no idea.”
Waving the key card, Hudson waited for the beep before pushing the double doors open.
“Oh my fucking God,” breathed Alana. “It really is a honeymoon suite.”
An understatement if there ever was one. The suite had a living area with love seats and a small table, but most of the space was taken up by an absolutely enormous bed. Covered in rose petals and having an oversized ‘care package’ on the bed, it was every cliche of a honeymoon suite, which he was going to have to share with Alana for the night.
“I was hoping there would be a couch or something,” he said, looking around.
“Why?” Alana asked, wandering over to the windows to check out the view.
“So we don’t have to share a bed?” It wasn’t like she’d want to share a bed with him. This was just her being polite.
“That bed is the size of a small island, Hudson. It’s not like you’ll notice me there.”
It could have been the size of a large island but Hudson would know that Alana was there. But she didn’t seem to be too bothered about it, so he was going to let it go and hope that everyone stayed on their respective sides of the bed.
“Wait, the bathtub!” Alana whirled around and dashed across the room. “Why is it in the bedroom?”
Instead of the famed bathtub being in the bathroom, the enormous claw-foot bathtub sat at the edge of the bedroom, directly in front of a bank of windows.
“Ugh, and I was all excited about taking a bath,” Alana said, her shoulders drooping.
“Why can’t you still take one?”
Alana gestured to the bathtub. “Because it’s out in public.”
“I’ll go wander around the grounds for a while,” Hudson said. “It’s nice outside.”
“Aren’t they going to think it’s weird?”
“Who?”
“I dunno, the people who work here. If you go off and start wandering through gardens right after we got here, they’re gonna think that we got into a fight or something.”
“I can tell them you were tired from traveling and needed a nap,” Hudson offered.
“From Manhattan? It’s not like we walked here.” Alana sighed. “And there are bath bombs, too.”
“Don’t those bubble?”
“Sometimes?”
“So just use a few,” Hudson suggested, trying to keep the image of a bathing Alana as far from his consciousness as humanly possible. “I have some staring at a sketchbook I have to do.”
Alana pursed her lips. “You sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“What kind of shitty fake husband would I be if I came between you and a bathtub?” Hudson asked. “I might end up taking a nap, anyway. I didn’t sleep for shit last night.”
“Were you that nervous about getting married?”
“Nah, just art stuff.” Hudson sighed. “Shannon said she sent some cleaning solution?”
“Somewhere in my bag.”
Hudson picked up Alana’s bag and unzipped it. “Want to fill the tub with a bit of hot water to make this go a little faster?” he asked.
“You want to clean the bathtub?”
“I need to do something helpful.”
Alana looked like she was going to say something, but then stopped, and went to turn on the faucets. Hudson opened Alana’s bag, saw one thing too many that was brightly colored, electronic, and extremely phallic, and immediately closed it. “Uh. I think Shannon may have packed you some…things.”
“Oh, no.”
Alana rushed over to her bag, and Hudson made his way to where she had been standing, determined not to think too deeply about what he had seen in her bag.
This was already a disaster, and they hadn’t even been married for a full day.
Alana looked into the bag and burst into peals of laughter. “Hudson, those are for skincare.”
“Since when do skincare things all look like dicks?”
Alana was doubled over with laughter. “I’m gonna pee my pants,” she gasped.
“It’s a good thing Shannon packed your entire underwear drawer, then,” Hudson replied.
Alana pulled out an electronic item, which, in Hudson’s defense, looked extremely phallic. “It’s for cleaning your face.”
“The same way that some vibrators are for ‘personal massaging’?”
Alana pursed her lips and considered. “I mean, no, but also, maybe? I’d buy a separate head, though, that doesn’t seem hygienic.”
Hudson shrugged.
“Did you really think Shannon would pack my vibrators?”
“At this point, I’m not making any assumptions on what Shannon would pack for you.”
Alana looked like she was going to say something but stopped.
Had she told Shannon about Connecticut? Had it been a girl’s night and she had gotten a little tipsy and admitted that they’d fucked against a tree?
If she did, what was Shannon’s end game here? Alana obviously had regretted it, which just made this little honeymoon trip all the more awkward.
Because Hudson didn’t regret it. The only thing he regretted was that it was a one-time deal. He had been ready to put himself out there, to swallow his fear and ask her out for real. But she had been so quick to tell him that this was a one and done, and so he hadn’t said anything. He wasn’t going to make things more uncomfortable for anyone by trying to push back. And so, he pretended that nothing had happened, the way she wanted.
Alana had pulled out a bottle of cleaning spray and a large scrubbing brush in a Ziploc bag and was getting started on making sure the bathtub was clean enough to use.
Hudson went over to the bed to look at the extremely large basket that was sitting at the end. Maybe there was another bath bomb in there for Alana to use, or maybe he would find his sanity.
“Uh…Alana?”
He had to stop opening things in this room, there were surprise sex toys everywhere he turned. And these were actually sex toys, as opposed to the ‘skincare’ shit Alana had. He knew a dildo when he saw one. And a concerningly large tub of lubricant.
She peered over at him, halfway bent into the tub. (He was going to hell. He was already there. The number of pieces of furniture in this suite that were the perfect height to bend Alana over was going to haunt him long after they left the suite. She was going to sit in that fucking bathtub covered in bubbles and he was going to have to start googling pictures of open wounds so she couldn’t see his erection.) “Huh?”
“Did anyone say what kind of honeymoon suite this is?”
Alana straightened. “What do you mean?”
Hudson gestured toward the basket. “How about you unpack this, and I scrub the bathtub? There aren’t gloves or anything and your nails.”
Alana’s face softened. “Thank you.” She stood up and walked over. “What’s in the basket, though?”
“Are you accusing me of having ulterior motives?”
“Very much.”
“Fair enough.” Hudson sat back. “There’s a lot of sex things in here. Like, more than I would expect from a hotel that’s not charging by the hour.”
“You have expectations about the level of sex things from a regular honeymoon suite gift basket?”
“I mean, I haven’t given it that much thought?—”
“But obviously you’ve given it some thought.”
He shouldn’t pick up the bait she so clearly was laying down. He shouldn’t. He should be more mature, more adult, remember that this was a fake marriage, remember the part that she actively told him to forget the fact that he had fucked her against a tree in Connecticut. But apparently saying “I do” turned him into someone who actively enjoyed playing with fire. “It’s a good thing they didn’t include a paddle in this basket,” he all but growled, “because I would be sorely tempted to use it on you right now, Alana.”