CHAPTER 43
September
Noodle was curled up in the kennel she’d bought for him, tucked near her coffee table. It was raining and thundering, signaling the changing seasons.
“It’s all right, Noodle,” she reassured him, making sure he was tucked in with his favorite blankie. Jeremy was in the Bay Area, hanging out with Sam and friends, and since Noodle tended to get out a lot anyway, he’d been spending more time with her.
Basically, Noodle was her dog now, as the whole Clark family acknowledged, even though no one had said anything overt about it. Noodle accompanied her on her walks from her house to the farm, which was every other day or so in the summer. He liked tramping through the field as much as she did and was equally comfortable in either house.
So was she.
She’d been busy, though. Thanks to Marceline’s sharklike lawyer, the publisher had given up the rest of the advance, although as she’d suspected, the bridges there were burned. She’d managed to barely coast to her next gig, a corporate holiday job for a sweet potato company, creating and testing recipes for sweet potato muffins, bread, even ravioli. She’d also worked on pitching Marceline’s cookbook, although as with most things, it took three times as long as she would have hoped.
She’d also found herself working with Marigold Farm, helping Kimber expand. That had been rewarding, and fun. They’d included her in some profit sharing, and although she felt strange about it, Mari had pointed out that she had, indeed, done work there ... she deserved to be compensated for it.
Willa was getting better at saying yes.
The most surprising source of income: she’d partnered with Sam on some video content. Since it had leaked that he was using a ghostwriter, instead of trying to deny it, they’d leaned in. They’d then created a character for her.
Auntie.
Auntie had come bursting into his kitchen, her hair in a bun, a housedress and an apron on, wielding a wooden spoon like a paddle. She’d then chastised his shirtlessness and told him where he was going wrong in his recipes.
“Why are you kissing the dough? That’s unsanitary!”
“Why are you slapping the pork belly? What did it ever do to you?”
“For God’s sake! Put on an apron! You are a mess!”
It was over the top, and she’d drawn a tiny bit from her own mother. When she’d first gotten out of food science school, her mother had still picked at her techniques, especially when it came to things like cooking Vietnamese food. “Why are you measuring the water for rice? One knuckle! ”
It cracked her up now. Not that her mother was watching Sam—or at least, she hoped not. At any rate, Sam’s viewers had found it hilarious, a funny little addition that gave his Sexy Chef character more dimension. He’d added more humor, thanks to brainstorming with Jeremy and Kimber, as well as his other Seattle friends. Now he had a bigger viewership than ever ... and a new cookbook deal in the works, although that was quiet and slow. She would probably be a cowriter, fully named.
She wasn’t going to count on it until it happened, though.
She now lived in Aunt Caroline’s house, her house, and she loved the island. She loved being around the Clarks, who had quickly become her family. She worked hard, and for the most part, she was happy.
Except for one thing.
She kept busy because, especially at night, when her brain had time to think, she missed Hudson with a brutality that hadn’t diminished with time. She hadn’t gotten used to it. If anything, it had simply gotten worse.
One more week.
She’d been counting the days like a prisoner looking at a calendar of her release. He’d told her about his packing, about his certificate. How he’d made friends that might come to visit. How they’d offered him a chance to stay and complete the full three-year program to become a master clockmaker.
He’d said no, or at least, he wouldn’t complete it in person. He missed his family too much ... and he’d made it clear that included her.
One more week.
It was around eight o’clock when the power went out. She smiled. The wind was wild, and lightning flashed and thunder roared. But Noodle was cozy in the soundproofed kennel, and she had long gotten used to the weather here, just like the other islanders.
“What do you think? Should I fire up the generator?” she asked Noodle. She peeked in to find him snoozing, so she decided to just light the candles on the mantel.
She was tucking her feet under her on the couch, wondering if she should light a fire, when suddenly Noodle burst out of the kennel, the blanket trailing like a superhero’s cape. He lunged at the door, barking like mad.
“Whoa! What is it? What is it?” she said. Sometimes he’d do this—if her neighbor, the restaurateur, had a get-together, for example, and there was unexpected traffic on the road. But she hadn’t heard any cars, and besides, Patrick tended to invite her to those things. (Not that she went, since she knew he was often angling to get to Marceline or trying to pick her brain about the restaurant business.)
She grabbed Noodle’s collar.
Then the door opened.
She looked up in shock.
There, standing in a nylon jacket, a waffle-weave shirt, and jeans, was Hudson.
He shut the door behind him. In the candlelight, she could make out all the details of him: his stubble, his bright eyes. His hair was wet, his smile was wide, and he looked so good she wanted to cry.
She let out a little shriek, letting go of Noodle, who danced around them as she launched herself at Hudson like a rocket. He caught her easily, holding her so tight she could barely breathe.
“You’re home,” she said in disbelief. “I thought you were coming back next week!”
“I skipped the ceremony they have for graduation,” he said. “And took a final early, and was able to get an earlier flight. I wanted to surprise you.”
“You did,” she said.
Noodle was also surprised by this whole business, but then there was more thunder crackling, and he started barking at the ceiling. She encouraged him to go back to the kennel with one of his toys and a small treat. With the equivalent of doggy grumbling, he went, and she shut him in, knowing it helped him feel more secure.
She felt Hudson wrap his arms around her from behind, kissing the nape of her neck. She leaned back, luxuriating in the feel of him enveloping her. “You’re home,” she almost sang.
“I missed you,” he said, turning her and punctuating each word with kisses: “So. Fucking. Much.”
She laughed against his mouth. “I knew we’d make it,” she said, nuzzling against his chest.
“I did too.” He sighed, holding her against him in a way that made her feel utterly cherished. “You were right, though.”
“I was?” She smiled against him, then pulled back to see his face. “About what?”
“I’m glad I went.” His expression was serious. Sexy, of course, but this was important, so she focused. “I felt like it was the first time I’d done something for me. I don’t know that I would have, ever, if you hadn’t pointed it out. Now that I have, I can see where I was just coasting without even thinking of why. It’s like a whole new world opened up, and I have you to thank for it.”
She felt her cheeks heat. But instead of demurring, she nodded. “I know how you feel. I hated having you gone. But it let me really think about what I wanted to do with my life, and then start to figure out how to pursue that. It was important.”
He smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. It was.”
“That said,” she tacked on, “let’s not do that again.”
His laugh was rumbly under her ear. “Nope,” he said. “You’re stuck with me from now on.”
“Promise?” she whispered, the love in her chest feeling almost overwhelming as she looked at this man, who had changed her life in one stormy night.
When she looked at him, the candlelight made his eyes shine.
“I promise,” he said, and kissed her.