CHAPTER 29
After Willa had explained that she’d need to go to the city to meet with the sexy chef guy, Hudson volunteered to drive her there. He’d seen she was a little nervous about driving in the city, and he had his own stuff to do, so he figured it made more sense for them to both go together. Now, it was a few days later, and they’d taken his truck onto the ferry and were now cruising across the sound toward Seattle. It was an hour-long trip, so they had time to kill. They were standing on the deck, looking out at the water. It was July, so it wasn’t cold, but it was overcast, and the breeze coming off the choppy water wasn’t exactly warm.
“You okay?” he said, checking in with her.
She nodded, but he noticed her shivering a little. She was wearing a T-shirt with a thin jacket over it, and while that’d been fine for the island and in the truck, it wasn’t holding up to the bracing wind coming off the sound.
“We can go inside—”
“No, really,” she interrupted with an apologetic half smile. “I get seasick. Sorry, I know that’s gross.”
“Hey, no. It’s good to know.” That probably scratched any idea of him getting her a snack from the ferry’s dining area.
“Besides, the view’s gorgeous.” She sighed happily, leaning her elbows on the railing. “I always liked looking at the ocean when I lived in California.”
“Did you grow up by it?” He leaned his back on the railing, close enough to hear her over the sounds of the ferry and the water.
“No. Irvine’s inland, and I didn’t trek out to the beach much. I didn’t like it enough to put up with the drive,” she said, turning her head a bit to meet his gaze. “And college was inland too. But I interned in San Francisco. Then I met Steven, and we lived in the Bay Area. I spent a lot of time in San Francisco, and San Mateo, which is kind of south of it.”
“Did you like it?”
She nodded. “It was a fun time in my life. I was in my twenties and thirties, and I was doing all this fun stuff. Learning things.” Her eyes went unfocused, and she turned back to the water. He strained to hear her. “Steven was really into the foodie scene, and we were always going to new restaurants or hanging out with restaurateurs or chefs.”
“Is that how you got into writing cookbooks?” he asked.
“Eventually, yes,” she said. Then she bit her lip. “Steven had a trust fund from his grandparents. I don’t remember how they made it. But he tried a bunch of different things. Like worldwide food tours—that was before we got together, although he did take me to Europe, and we led a foodie tour of Florence, which was awesome. Really off-the-beaten-path stuff.”
Hudson squirmed uncomfortably. He’d never been to Europe, although at one time he’d wanted to, because it was so rich in history that they actually tried to preserve. He’d actually never been out of the country. He’d done a road trip with Kimber when she was deciding what college to go to, so he’d been to UC Davis, and later, all the states between Colorado State and University of Nebraska and back. It had been exhausting but worth it, even though she’d eventually decided she couldn’t bear being so far from home.
Still, there was a big difference between Steven seeing the Eiffel Tower and him seeing the world’s largest covered wagon. He felt his stomach clench a little as he mentally yelled at himself. He didn’t have to prove himself to anyone, and he wasn’t going to let her previous husband’s memory make him feel bad about a life he was proud of.
“But we had some bad decisions and had a run of bad luck,” she said. “We bet big and lost. Big. ”
He wondered what that meant but wasn’t sure if they were at the point where he could pry.
“Like, lost-our-house big,” she admitted.
He winced.
“By that point, Steven was getting sick,” she said, and though her voice was steady and her outer appearance that calm, porcelain surface, the pain in her eyes was almost hard to look at. “When we started to get behind on mortgage payments and bills, I was scrambling for work that I could do easily and that paid fast. I sold myself short, but we got money in the door. Just wasn’t enough.”
He whistled low. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That sounds hard.”
What was Steven doing?
“We moved down to Southern California, by his parents,” she said in a low voice. “Steven took the loss really hard. Like, super depressed. Then it kind of kicked his health problems into high gear.”
He saw that she was still shivering and immediately took his leather jacket off and draped it over her shoulders, ignoring the cool air on the bare skin below his T-shirt sleeves. “Listen, I don’t mind hearing about this at all,” he said, tugging her to face him and pulling the jacket snugly around her. “But you don’t have to tell me anything either. You don’t owe me any explanations, and I don’t want you to hurt.”
She smiled, even if it was sad. “It’s funny. I don’t really talk about it much. Everybody I would’ve talked to about it either already knew him or I lost touch with when we moved.”
“Do you still talk to them now?”
She looked surprised, then shrugged. “There hasn’t been much reason to,” she said slowly.
He quirked an eyebrow at her. According to his kids, it was his that’s-bullshit look, one he inherited from his father.
Her cheeks reddened, and he didn’t think it had anything to do with the wind. “It’s hard, you know?”
“What is?”
“The widow part.”
The wind picked up, and he had to lean closer to hear her words over it. It was definitely getting colder too. He glanced up, hoping it wasn’t going to rain.
“The thing is,” she continued, “everyone says they’re sorry, and I can just say thank you, because I was sorry too. But a lot of them don’t know what to say beyond that, and it just makes it worse. Some people said things like it’d pass with time, or I just needed to grieve, which ... well, I knew that. Some even said things like it was part of God’s plan, and considering how long he’d been suffering, maybe it was for the best.”
“What the fuck?” he blurted out in shock. “Who says that?”
“At the memorial service too,” she said darkly. “There were some people who made some veiled references to his behavior catching up with him, that he should’ve ... I don’t know, eaten healthier, or quit drinking, or done whatever holistic treatment they’d read about on Facebook. It was so frustrating. Some of these people had been my friends.”
He made a strangled noise, but hopefully, she hadn’t heard it over the noise of their surroundings. She’d already been hurting. How in the world did they think that would help?
“Some people in his family asked me about what my plans were, or asked really personal questions about my finances. I can deal with those kind of questions from, like, my parents, but not Steven’s cousin twice removed or my uncle.”
He grimaced. Why do people have to be such assholes?
“People offered all kinds of help too. They weren’t all bad,” she rushed to assure him. “But ...”
“But you don’t like taking favors,” he said with a gentle smile, so she’d know he wasn’t criticizing her. “I might not know you that well, but I know that much.”
She smiled back softly. “Yeah. That’s a rough one.”
They were quiet for a minute.
It really was colder, he realized.
“Speaking of favors,” she said, “thanks for taking me. I could’ve driven myself, but it is nice to have the company.”
“My pleasure,” he said. “Like I said, I needed to go into the city anyway.”
“Something for the island?”
“Having lunch with the twins’ mom.”
She blinked, slowly enough for him to realize that it was surprise. “Everything all right?” she asked slowly, before quickly tacking on, “Like you said, I’m happy to listen, but if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine too.”
They were so careful around each other, he realized. It was like building something very delicate. He found himself hoping that one day it’d be really strong.
He shook his head. Think about that later. “Not a big deal. I think she’s worried about Jeremy. She might want a progress report on Kimber too.”
“She doesn’t talk to them?”
“They don’t really talk to her.”
“That’s hard,” she said, compassion plain on her face. “For all of them, I imagine.”
“I was angry for a while. Tried to keep it from the kids, but you know ...” Then he stopped. “Well, actually, I guess you might not know how they are.”
“I haven’t had them,” she said, her lips pursed in an amused grin, “but I’ve been one, so yeah. I know. They’re smarter than most adults give them credit for.”
He frowned. “Mind if I ask you a personal question?”
Her peal of laughter surprised him. “At this point? I feel like I’ve unloaded most of my personal history. You could probably ask me what color my underwear is.”
His brain stuttered for a second as that processed. They hadn’t repeated the activities of that first night, mostly because knowing his kids were in the house had made both of them a little hesitant. They hadn’t been saints or anything—he’d made out with her until his balls ached, and he got little to no sleep as a result. But he wasn’t going to exactly fix that situation here on the ferry, either, so he forced himself to stay the course.
“Why didn’t you have kids?” he asked. “I mean ... did you not want them, or were you not able to have them?”
Her expression snapped into that polite, polished, aloof one—the one she used when she retreated behind her wall.
“I’m not judging either way,” he added.
Her mask slipped enough to show her skepticism. “Were you angry with your ex-wife for not wanting kids?”
He huffed out a sigh. “I’m not going to lie. At the time, I was,” he said. “But that was because I was twenty-two years old, mostly scared, and I had no idea what I was doing.”
She relaxed a little.
“I’m not angry with her anymore, and honestly, I didn’t have the right to be angry about her choices. Not about that. We both made some serious mistakes, and we probably should have made better choices when she found out she was pregnant. Do I wish she had a better relationship with the twins? Sure. But I can’t do anything about that now, and besides, it’s between the kids and their mother. I can just love them and support them as best I can and hope things work out.”
“That sounds really healthy,” Willa said. “Steven didn’t want kids. Even though it’s not technically hereditary, I think he was afraid any kids he had would be at risk to have diabetes too. Besides, I hate to say it, but kids would’ve interfered with all the things he wanted to do. We didn’t have pets because of it. Honestly, we didn’t even have houseplants.” She looked at the water for a second. “It broke his parents’ hearts, but ultimately, I think it was the best decision.”
“Did you want them, though?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t feel strongly one way or the other. I’d like to think if I had some, I’d be a good mother, but I don’t ... feel like I’m missing anything. And I hate to think what it would’ve been like if I had to take care of them with everything else that wound up happening.”
He nodded, thinking of how unsupported she’d felt, how alone. Then, without meaning to, he shuddered.
“Oh!” She touched her bare hand to his forearm, and winced. “Oh, you’re cold. Here, take your jacket back.”
“No,” he said firmly. “You need it more than me.”
“I know I need to buy warmer clothes,” she said. “If I’m still here in the fall, that’s first thing on my list.”
He tried not think about how those words stung. It was way too early, and he was way too attached, but there they were. He looked at her, swamped in his slightly oversize jacket.
Then he snapped his fingers. “I’ve got an idea.”
He took the jacket from her, smiling at her puzzled expression. He put it on, then opened the front in invitation, like a circus tent.
She laughed, stepping into his chest and leaning her cheek against his T-shirt as he bundled them both. He kissed the top of her head before tucking it under his chin. “Better?”
“Better,” he heard her say, only slightly muffled against his chest.
He waited a beat.
“So. What color is your underwear?”
Her bright laughter was warmer than his jacket, and he loved it.