9. Hudson
Going backto the coffee shop felt like going back to school after a long and slightly unexpected vacation. Everything felt different, and it had only been a few days.
“Your vibe is different today,” Frankie said as they restocked the cold brew.
“Why would you think that?” Hudson asked, tying on his apron.
Frankie paused, looked him up and down. “Hudson. Why are you wearing a wedding ring?”
Well, fuck.
“Why would you think it’s a wedding ring?”
“Because you don’t usually wear rings and that one is on your wedding finger. And that wasn’t weird until you started acting squirrely about it,” Frankie replied. They folded their arms. “What bullshit were you up to over the weekend, Miller?”
“Last names now? Wowww.”
“Look who’s avoiding answering my question.”
“Frankie! You’re needed in the front!” Dev called.
Saved by the bell, and an influx of mobile orders.
“Can’t hide shit from your work spouse forever,” Frankie said as they walked out to the front.
Hudson pulled out his phone.
‘I forgot to take off my wedding ring this morning and Frankie noticed. Would you mind if I fill them in?’
‘Nah. As long as they don’t take out a billboard announcing the situation.’
‘They’ll probably just laugh and call it white people bullshit,’ Hudson texted back.
‘Can’t say they’re wrong,’ Alana answered. ‘I moved mine to my other hand, but don’t worry, we’re still married in my heart. And more importantly, on paper.’
He knew she didn’t mean it seriously, but, God, there was that small delusional part that wished she did. But fixating on that, especially now that they were roommates, was a terrible idea.
Not that being fully aware of the consequences of being a dumbass would stop him from being a dumbass. So far it had not.
‘I can’t say I was all that worried, but thanks for assuaging my fears.’
‘Assuaging!!! Wow, King of SAT words.’
‘It’s been over a decade since I took the SAT.’
‘I know, I was teasing. I know you know the word because you wake up like two hours early so you can sit in your slippers and your robe and smoke a pipe while you read the New York Times cover to cover.’
Hudson tried to keep from laughing out loud. He knew she was kidding, but the juxtaposition of that visual of him versus the troll under the bridge that he was every morning was jarring. Not that she would know–they both slept in on Sunday morning of their honeymoon. Maybe he should buy a pair of slippers as a joke to start using once he was able to quit.
‘Does this make JP my long-suffering 1950’s wife who secretly hates me and has plotted at least four ways to make my murder look like an accident?’
‘As your only legal spouse here (that I know of???), wouldn’t that be me?’
‘You would have a lot more than four ways to make my murder look like an accident.’
‘Hudson, you say the nicest things 3’
Not that he ever would have admitted it to anyone, but he had missed this. In some ways (in most ways, honestly), Connecticut fucked up what had been the beginnings of what could have been an incredible friendship.
Maybe he’d been a little distant after that, but then again, so had she. And sure, everything eventually smoothed out to where they were cordial again, but it hadn’t been the same. How could it, though? He had thought it was going to be the start of something different, and boy, had that been shut down before he’d even dealt with the condom. He could respect her choices, and he had, and maybe she’d been more cold to him because she was scared that he wouldn’t.
But one weekend in a honeymoon suite, and things were a little easier. Maybe this was a good sign. Maybe they’d be able to get back to where they were before.
Maybe he’d finally be able to let go of this ridiculous crush that had lived in his bones since the first day he’d seen her. Or maybe, like a healing bruise, one day he’d be able to press down and it wouldn’t hurt anymore.
“Hudson! Get your ass up here, there’s a new TikTok drink.”
Hudson groaned in defeat. ‘I have nothing against social media,’ he texted Alana. ‘But I really wish people would stop with “secret menu items”. I’m tired.’
‘I’ll fistfight the next person I see doing a TikTok dance for you.’
‘Best of wives, best of women.’
‘I’m not gonna google that and pretend you thought of that yourself.’
‘Ignorance is bliss and whatever.’
‘You know it, baybeeeee.’
JP was waiting for Hudson in front of their old apartment for the final cleanup and walkthrough. “Well, hello, Mr. Bruckner.”
“It’s actually Bruckner-Miller,” Hudson replied.
“Wait, for real? I don’t remember that part from your wedding.”
“No.” Hudson unlocked the front door and looked at their mostly empty apartment. “I hate the internet today.”
“Aren’t those the same motherfuckers who gave you a career?”
“Yes.” Hudson sighed. “I want to sleep forever.”
“Sure, Sleeping Beauty. As soon as we finish cleaning this place out you can nap on the same floor that would probably make a middle school science teacher puke.”
“How many energy drinks have you had today?” Hudson asked.
“Not important.”
Hudson groaned. “Your insides are gonna corrode.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
“Absolutely not.”
JP grinned. “Soooo. I know you don’t have any plans this weekend besides staring morosely into the ether or whatever while you try to think about art, so I have made plans for you.”
“Do those plans have anything to do with a marriage boot camp? And whatever you ordered from Jeff?”
“I don’t know why you would think that,” JP said, trying and failing to sound innocent.
“Shannon accidentally snitched,” Hudson replied.
“What did she say?”
“Not enough.”
“Oh, good,” JP said. “Wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.”
“I don’t like surprises.”
“You’ll like this one.” JP paused. “Hold on. Song lyric.” He pulled out his phone and started typing furiously.
Maybe he should start drinking far too many energy drinks, Hudson thought. Maybe it was the caffeine that had JP’s brain just spitting out ideas all the time.
He should be working on a new commission that had come in, but he was tired. He was always tired. And standing up for an eight-hour shift was not always the best idea.
He was counting down the days to when he could finally hand in his two weeks. Which should have given him the motivation to get up off the admittedly, extremely comfortable couch at his new apartment and go make some art.
Hudson’s phone buzzed, distracting him from the potential pity party spiral.
It was Danny, in the extended family chat, posting a picture of his three kids. The fact that he and Danny were months apart and Danny had not only a wife, but three whole children was wild to Hudson.
Although now Hudson also had a wife, though Danny, nor the rest of his family knew about it.
They would love Alana. Adore her. Which was why he was absolutely not going to be introducing her to any of his relatives, because after the year was over and they got divorced, he would have to spend the rest of his life explaining to all of them why he wasn’t ‘dating’ her anymore.
But he also wasn’t going to think about the potential emotional disaster that would have to be him no longer married to her anymore. It wasn’t like it was a real marriage, and the sooner his stubborn heart and brain caught onto that, the better shit would be for all of them.
Especially him.
It wasn’t like that one time in Connecticut hadn’t fundamentally changed the way Hudson made art for the rest of his life. Who only knew what would happen after a year?
A notification popped up on his phone. A Google invite from JP, entitled, “Marriage Homework!!!”.
Hudson groaned.
JP cackled from the other room.
Walking into Alana’s office building was the oddest sort of imposter syndrome. He was just a dude who made coffee and occasionally some art. Alana worked in an enormous metal and glass sort of building, one tall enough that Hudson felt prickles of anxiety, especially given the other companies who also had offices there.
Statistically, this wouldn’t be the building a plane would crash into, Hudson told himself as he walked into the enormous lobby. And according to every military book his grandpa read, preparing for the last war, the last attack, the last emergency, wasn’t nearly as helpful as preparing for the potential of something new.
Maybe that was why people read military strategy books, Hudson thought as he texted Alana that he was there. The same reason he over-googled medical symptoms. If you know everything, you can’t be hurt by it.
Which was bullshit, but it was bullshit that helped a lot of people sleep at night.
Including him.
Sometimes.
The doors to one of the many elevators opened, and his wife (holy shit, his wife) walked out, talking to an older man in a suit. God, he had to stop thinking of her like that, regardless of how large the dopamine hit was every time he thought about it. As the two of them drew closer, Hudson could make out snippets of conversation, but even if you paid him enough money to buy the entirety of the building, he wouldn’t be able to tell you what they were talking about.
“I’ll forward you the link later,” Alana said. “I know Stewart wants to circle back to this at the next ideation session.”
“Sounds great,” the man replied, and continued toward the doors.
“Hey,” Alana said, grinning up at him. Hudson resisted the urge to hug her. “I didn’t realize you switched to this pharmacy after the one around the corner from the apartment closed.”
“I didn’t, but the one I switched to didn’t have medication, so they transferred the prescription to this one for now.”
Could he have switched it to a different pharmacy, one that was closer to home? Sure. Did he also want an excuse to see Alana? Also yes.
“I didn’t realize people actually talked like that,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Like what?”
“Circle back? Ideation session?”
Alana laughed. “I know, I sound like a corporate bingo card.”
“What do you win if you get bingo?”
Alana pursed her lips in thought. “Continued health insurance and enough money to pay my rent?”
“Excellent trade-off.”
“Sometimes.” Alana lowered her voice, and Hudson bent his head to hear her. “That guy is a misogynistic douchebag and all of us hate him. I already sent him the fucking link.”
“Does that mean when you email him again, you’re gonna write ‘as stated in my previous email, (please see attached)’?”
“You know it. And it will be the best email I send all day.” Alana reached for his hand and tugged him toward the cafe in the back corner of the lobby. “I have to entertain myself somehow at work.”
“I’m glad you’ve come up with a legal way that won’t get you fired.”
“You have a lot of faith in me,” Alana said.
Hudson shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Alana started to say something, then stopped. “Never mind.”
“What?”
“Residual bullshit from other people that I’m projecting onto you, and you don’t deserve that.”
“Damn. Your therapist is good.” Hudson paused. “Shit. I mean…”
“Nah, you’re right. He is.” Alana paused at the entrance to the cafe. “I know you just spent like, one thousand hours making coffee, but do you want someone else to make you one?”
“Tea sounds nice right about now,” Hudson said, looking over at the menu boards hanging.
“Chantel has been trying to get me to try the citron mango for like, four thousand years, and health wise, I probably should switch to tea, but I like silly little coffee drinks.” Alana shrugged. “And the level of enjoyment I get from them definitely outweighs the potential health things. That and only living once.”
“You can try a sip of mine,” Hudson offered, realizing what an incredibly married thing that was for him to say.
They didn’t even need whatever ridiculous scheme JP was plotting for them.
Syssla’s holiday party was held at a restaurant with a rooftop bar and a view of the Hudson River. Did Hudson have to Google what one wore as a plus one to a holiday party for a large company that had offices in glass paned buildings and used every corporate cliche he could possibly think of? Yes. Was he still not sure if he was wearing the correct outfit, and was a little too stressed about whether or not he was going to embarrass Alana? Also yes.
He had thought about asking Ben, but that would be admitting he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing at all, and the longer he could hold up the ruse of Alana thinking he had his shit together, the better. Not that he thought Ben was going to tell her or anything.
God, he was a mess. But a well-dressed one tonight, and one who was ready to lie to every one of Alana’s colleagues about their relationship and why none of them were invited to the wedding.
Alana stepped out of her bedroom and Hudson wished he was into cock cages, because there was not a chastity belt or pair of compression shorts that would be enough if he was going to be with her the whole night. Never mind the fact that they were going to have to pack on the PDA a little bit, and he knew from the angle he was going to be at that he would spend the entire evening trying not to ogle her chest.
She was wearing a black velvet dress that followed the curves of her body and flared out near her knees, and even without seeing, he knew her heels were going to be something over the top and colorful. The intricate star themed embroidery that cradled the underside of her chest took the dress from something staid and a little boring to something that he would expect from Alana’s closet. The puffed shoulders? An interesting left turn he didn’t expect but she somehow pulled off.
“You look stunning,” he finally managed.
“Thanks.” Alana beamed. “You don’t look terrible yourself.” She sashayed to the closet and got out her coat. “You ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied.
“Phone, wallet, keys, wedding ring?”
Hudson huffed a laugh and showed her his hand, starting to hum Beyonce’s Single Ladies.
“If I get drunk tonight and start singing that, it’s gonna be your fault entirely.”
A vision of Alana drunk with her coworkers and telling them that she and Hudson weren’t really married flashed through his mind. “Drunk?”
“God, no, not for real. I have no idea what I would say to any of my coworkers if I was drunk. And anyway, you don’t drink, and it’s not fun to be the sober one when you’re with people you don’t know.” Alana shrugged on her coat, expertly flipping her hair out of the way. “Would all of this be more tolerable if we were both wasted? Yes. But I don’t want to risk getting fired for doing dumb shit at a company party, and you definitely don’t want me to get fired.”
“For both of our sakes, I hope you’re not.”
The Syssla holiday party was held in a restaurant with a rooftop view, and someone had decorated the entirety of this very nice place (Hudson had Googled in advance) to look like prom night, if one was going to prom in 1984.
“Uh, why is this themed?” he whispered to Alana as they waited on line to take the photos (mandatory before entering the party). “Who peaked in high school in the 80’s?”
“The new COO,” Alana replied. “Which is a weird perception to have of yourself when you’re C-Suite in a multi-billion dollar company. But small town high school football homecoming king bullshit or something.”
The photographer ushered them into their spots. “We’ll do a few quick poses. There are also photo booths once you get inside.”
“If JP ever sees proof of these pictures, he’ll take a billboard out somewhere just to post them,” Hudson replied as Alana stood in front of him.
She snorted with quiet laughter, and reached back to grab his hands so they could rest on her hips. “Then let’s hope they don’t post them anywhere.”
“Too bad we don’t have an extra eight fifty,” Hudson said. “Good bribe money.”
“Listen, if they’re that hideous, I’ll get Barbara to deal with it,” Alana replied, leaning into him just the smallest amount, smiling for the photographer. “I’m pretty sure she helped plan this. Not that she’d ever add it to her portfolio.”
Alana had showed him Barbara’s website the night before, as part of holiday party prep. The only two people she truly cared about who were going to be here were Patrick and his wife, and this was as close as Hudson would get to meeting Alana’s parents.
A thing that never should happen, as none of this was real. Even if it felt like it just a little, tangling his hand with hers, and leaning over her shoulder to look at the pictures of them on the photographer’s camera.
“Well, that’s horrifying,” Hudson blurted, and then watched Alana shut down.
“Oh,” she said.
God, no, whatever it was that she was thinking, he didn’t mean it.
“I look just like my dad did in his wedding pictures,” he rushed to explain. “I mean, he had a lot more hair than I did. I’ll have to show you the picture.”
“You didn’t realize you looked like your dad until now?”
“I’ve never been transposed to an 80’s photoshoot for full confirmation,” Hudson said, tugging her to him. They thanked the photographer, and headed into the party.
Alana had a serene smile on her face, and other than the fact that she had an iron-clad grip on his hand, Hudson wouldn’t have known anything was wrong.
“Hey,” he said softly, tugging her with him over to a corner. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said, smiling up at him. “Everything’s great.”
“Are you sure?” he pressed. “I know the stakes are higher for you here than they are for me.” Hudson wasn’t really a violent sort of person, but the urge to hunt down whoever had caused Alana to feel the way she just did and beat the everloving shit out of them was overwhelming. Because someone, somewhere, at some point in time, had hurt her badly enough that she thought he would do the same to her.
It wasn’t healthy to hate, but Hudson let himself, just for a little bit.
“Don’t worry about it,” Alana replied, straightening his tie and then patting his chest. “Everything’s gonna be great. And most people get kinda tipsy at these things and aren’t really going to remember that much.”
Hudson leaned down a little until they were eye to eye. “You can also tell me if you’re freaking out about this,” he said. “The whole getting married thing made us a team.”
“It’s not like it was a real wedding, though,” Alana said, and then immediately glanced down, suddenly fascinated by her shoes, and by the way Hudson had caged her into him.
“I know,” Hudson said. “But we’re still friends, aren’t we?”
There was a pause, so long that Hudson started to question everything.
“Of course we are,” Alana replied. She leaned against him for just a moment. “Friends who are pretending to be in love for my boss.”
“The shit we do for health insurance,” Hudson said. He leaned down and kissed her forehead gently. “Come on. I want to meet Stewart.”
“Ewww! Why?”
“So I can tower over him and know that it’ll give him a complex? Because I’m petty and you hate him because he’s a douche?” So I can make you forget the person who hurt you. So you can smile again, and mean it for real this time.
Alana laughed. “You are a menace.”
“That’s why you married me.”
“Surrrre.”
“Well, look who it is!” A short, robust man with a full head of salt and pepper hair and 70’s style mustache walked over to them. “My favorite newlyweds!”
Alana grinned. “Patrick, we’re the only newlyweds you know.”
“Barbara has clients who are getting married.”
“But do you know them?”
“I see their paychecks,” Patrick replied. He turned to Hudson. “Hudson Miller. A pleasure to finally meet you.”
Hudson stuck out his hand for a shake, but Patrick waved it away, and gave him a bear hug, complete with the requisite three hearty slaps on the back. “Mazel tov to you,” Patrick said. “You did a great job picking a wife.”
“Thank you,” Hudson replied. “I know. Feeling pretty smug about it.”
Patrick turned to Alana. “I said that correctly, right?”
Alana laughed. “Were you practicing?”
“Of course not.”
“He was,” said a woman who Hudson could only guess was Barbara. “All day. Drove me bananas.” She wrapped Alana into a hug. “Congratulations, babycakes. We’re over the moon for you.”
Alana beamed, and Hudson felt a smallest bit of the stress of this evening finally lift.