Chapter 25
Amelia
Everyone was starting to take their seats for dinner, and I looked around the park for Hudson.
He’d disappeared several minutes ago with Bret and Gage, and I hadn’t seen them come back yet.
I couldn’t get enough of watching him. He was so handsome, it almost hurt to look at him during the wedding.
His eyes teared up when Rosie and Dylan said their vows, and when they’d kissed, Hudson's searing gaze had met mine, making me feel like I was on fire from the inside.
I made my way over to my assigned table, and when I went to sit down, there was an envelope on my seat.
Someone had written Amelia across the front of it, two lines drawn under my name.
None of the other seats had letters on them. I opened it, and pulled out a hand-written note.
Dear Amelia,
I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me I’m not too late. I have loved no one but you. For you alone, I think and plan. I can hardly write. You are too good! Too excellent!
Yours ever,
Hudson
PS. Please meet me in the wooded area behind Icy Asps restaurant when you read this.
I read it a second time, my confusion growing.
First of all, this wasn’t Hudson’s handwriting. This was messy and imprecise, while Hudson wrote as though he held a ruler under each line of words. I’d seen his handwriting hundreds of times when we were in college, and it was something I used to tease him about.
Secondly, this letter was totally ripped off from Jane Austen’s Persuasion. These were Captain Wentworth’s words, not Hudson’s. Sure, it was shortened and up to date, but I’d know that letter anywhere.
I set the letter in my lap and looked around the room in earnest for some clue as to what in the world was going on. No one was at my table yet, so I stood, still clutching the letter.
Was it dumb to go behind Icy Asps and see who it was?
Probably.
I caught Rosie’s gaze, and she smiled widely and expectantly at me.
She bustled away from the person who’d been talking to her and came up to my side to give me another huge hug.
We’d already spoken after the ceremony, where she told me we’d accidentally decorated the wrong car.
Turned out her brothers had rented a white SUV, not black. Whoops.
“What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the letter in my hand.
“It’s so weird.” I handed it to her, and her eyes skimmed over it, brightening as she got to the end.
“Hudson wrote this? That’s so sweet.”
I shook my head. “Hudson didn’t write that.”
“That’s his name.” She pointed to the scrawled signature. “You have to meet him.”
“Rosie. It’s clearly a trap of some kind.”
“No way. I’ve known Hudson for a long time, and it’s definitely him.”
I’ve known him even longer, I wanted to say, but you don’t argue with the bride on her wedding day.
“I need a break from all this anyway,” Rosie said. “I’ll come with you.”
A break from her own wedding? “I don’t think it’s a good idea—”
“Dylan can come with us. Dylan!” She waved him down, and he immediately came over to our side and wrapped a firm arm around her waist. If eyes could have hearts in them, Dylan’s would. Rosie thrust the letter at him. His eyes skimmed over the page, his brows furrowing as he read.
“Don’t you think she should meet Hudson behind Icy Asps right now?” Rosie said.
“This isn’t Hudson’s handwriting. And is this supposed to be a love letter? It’s terrible,” he said, handing me the letter back. “I’d stay far away.”
Rosie huffed out a short, offended breath. “It’s not terrible.”
I had to agree with her on that. It was one of literature's most beloved love letters for a reason, though whoever had written this had shortened it to a criminal degree. If you were going to plagiarize Jane Austen, be all in.
“Hudson wrote this, and we’re going,” Rosie said in a tone that left no room for argument. “Come on.”
Dylan and I exchanged bemused glances as we followed Rosie through the tables and out toward the forest. She waved off people who tried to talk to her and ignored others when she could. A woman on a mission.
I clutched the letter and followed, intrigued about what was going on now that I had some people with me. There was safety in numbers. Besides, I had no idea who might be trying to lure me into a private location. That reporter from Hot Goss, maybe? Rosie was acting suspicious, though.
Rosie held her dress up as we stepped off the sidewalk and onto the dirt.
“Is this a good idea?” I asked her, but she waved away my words and continued to walk toward Icy Asps.
My heel and crutch dug into the soft mud, and if this was any person other than the bride, I would turn right back around and go to the reception.
Rosie paused and motioned toward where Hudson was talking to Bret and Gage. Even from here, I could see the confused expression on his face. Gage was rubbing a stick against a tree while Bret blew on something that sounded like a low horn.
“See,” she said triumphantly. “There he is. We’ll give you your moment.” She took Dylan’s arm and pulled him away, toward the restaurant.
“Hudson!” I called out as I slowly limped toward him, “What’s going—”
But before I could finish that sentence, I heard a familiar sound coming from the forest. One I’d never wanted to hear again, and way, way too close.
A moose getting ready to charge.