Chapter 28
LEAH
From behind me, in a terrible imitation of a Western accent, Hudson says, “Well, little lady, I think we’re about to go get our wedding photos taken.”
Playing along, I say, “I would be happy to oblige, but I’m afraid I can’t zip up my frock.”
I glance over my shoulder. He’s inches away. If I leaned back, I could rest my head by the crook of his neck.
His voice is rougher than before when he says, “I think I can help with that.”
I’m cinching together the bottom of the dress, and our hands brush when he takes the zipper in his fingers. My breath washes through me like he already tugged it up, and the fit is snug, however I feel his exhale on my bare skin as he carefully lifts the zipper to the back of my neck.
The little hairs tickle when he says, “You look beautiful.”
“How do you know? You haven’t even seen me yet.”
“You always do, Leah. Even back when you wore those oversized sweatshirts. In your figure skating costumes. When you’re annoyed with me. Even when you’re not sure how you feel—you are beautiful.”
Which is right now. How do I feel other than a warm, throbbing sensation like my entire body is vibrating? I want to blame it on the rides and the general noisy carnival atmosphere, but that would be a lie.
Staggering slightly at his words, I shuffle out from behind the privacy screen with him right behind. He holds up his hand and twirls me in front of an antique mirror, eyes alight. Granted, this isn’t exactly my style, but when I come to a stop, our hands are still joined.
Bonnie stands behind a camera on a wooden stand. “My, you two make a very handsome couple. Are you ready for your photos?”
My instinct is to decline her compliment or chalk it up to her just doing her job and hoping for a big tip, but Hudson’s darkening expression with his lips slightly parted, the slight flush to his cheeks, and a certain possessiveness in his posture suggest that he very much likes what he sees.
I know exactly how that makes me feel.
I want him.
I’m afraid to admit it.
Bonnie has us try a few different poses and says we look too stiff. Like we only just met today. Could be that I only let myself recognize these feelings today. Right now, in fact.
She adjusts us so I’m perched on Hudson’s lap.
It’s awkward for a second, then I remember we’ve done this before on the Zamboni.
Maybe being with him is more natural than I thought.
Like we belong together. Or perhaps the s’mores on a stick combined with the Gravitron, and these musty old clothes are messing with my head.
We have to wait about ten minutes for the photos to finish developing, a.k.a. run through the printer, because let’s be real, this is the modern day and everything is digital even though it’s made to look old-fashioned.
While we’re waiting, Hudson says, “When was the last time you came to the carnival?”
“Last fall. How about you?”
“Not since we were kids. Actually, probably sophomore or junior year … the same night Howie came into my household.”
I wince. “Your brother was such a misfit. You were such a jock.”
“And you were so nerdy, so brainy … do you still have those thick black glasses?”
I elbow him. “Yes.”
He lifts and lowers his eyebrows. “I like the look.”
“Don’t be mean.”
“Just being honest. Hunter used to always brag about you doing his homework for him.”
I can’t avoid how Hudson being aware of this makes me feel used and ashamed.
“Hopefully, we live and learn from the past, right?” I say offhandedly.
He plants his hand on the wall slightly above my head. “Totally. For instance, if there’s a girl that you think is pretty, tell her. If there’s a girl you would like to spend more time with, let her know. If there is a girl you want to marry—”
“To the beautiful bride and groom, your portraits are ready!” Bonnie points her closed parasol at us and flutters a portfolio in our direction.
Conversation abandoned but not forgotten, we open it and look at the pictures. First comes my pink cheeks, then a smile, followed by laughter.
Hudson beams. “We look good. Actually, great.”
He’s not wrong.
After thanking Bonnie, we walk down the main fairway, and he asks, “Is there anything else you want to do while we’re here? Fair food? Games? Rides?”
Still a little heady from the Gravitron and perhaps the changing room and maybe from the way Hudson keeps looking at me, I say, “I’m good. How about you?” No sooner are the words out of my mouth, I hesitate because I don’t want tonight to be over.
Hudson says, “If I remember, you were always good at numbers.”
I’m kind of being obtuse because I’m afraid of where this might go when I reply, “I was going to go to college to study accounting, but I couldn’t afford it.
I was told it would be a waste of my intellect if I didn’t.
However, no matter how good I was with math, I couldn’t make money appear and didn’t want to go into debt. ”
“Would you have been happy in that field?”
“I can’t be sure, since I never tried it, though probably not. These legs weren’t made for sitting at a desk in front of a computer.”
Hudson laughs and I jab him.
He holds up his hands in surrender. “I was agreeing.”
We stop when a child with a balloon bouquet runs headlong through us, battering us with the helium spheres.
When we’re in the clear, Hudson asks, “Would you have wanted to continue skating?” It’s not lost on me that we didn’t resume the marriage discussion.
“Maybe. My mind is always speeding. When I’m skating, it’s the one time I can keep pace with myself.
I’m not sure why I’m telling you this.” I continue, anyway.
“When skating, the strangest thing happens. Eventually, my thoughts go quiet. My head still gets crowded like that at times. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve gotten used to it and have learned how to keep the noise down a bit. ”
Hudson simply listens and nods as I speak.
I can’t be sure if he understands, but he doesn’t offer three easy steps to quell the clatter, remove the clutter, or tame the sense of rushing overwhelm I feel periodically.
The social awkwardness, the shift in my moods when I feel like my head is too loud.
I don’t get the sense that he’s going to offer life hacks online or try to sell me a program. He is just present. I appreciate that.
In fact, I’m grateful that he came here tonight and went on this date with me. However, he didn’t officially ask, at least not initially. No one has. Not even the guys he set me up with. They were just along for the ride.
Nothing new there.
Hudson asks, “When was the last time you had this much fun?”
We reach the carnival’s exit and I still haven’t answered.
“I thought you were good with numbers or are you still doing the calculations?”
I mock laugh dryly. The truth is, I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun. Certainly, never with Hunter. Probably at one of my many family gatherings. But it’s different when with someone who could be relationship material.
I can’t bring myself to speak because that would be admitting something bigger than I can comprehend right now. It would expose the emails. Flip on its head the way I’ve always thought of Hudson.
“Can I walk you to your car?” he asks.
“We’re already going in that direction.”
The carnival sounds grow distant as we get closer to the field where I parked my car and my head gets noisier. I stop by the door and say, “Thanks for setting me up on the date with Grimaldi.”
Hudson’s expression darkens. “What do you mean?”
“If you hadn’t, I would be wondering what his first name is …” But I can’t keep a straight face because I don’t care in the slightest.
This night has flown by and I blame the butterflies in my belly. They’re stronger than they look, carrying me off to a world where things between Hudson and me could be a possibility.
He wears his patent half-smile. “I know what his name is.”
“Oh, yeah? Are you going to tell me? And don’t you dare say if I kiss you.”
“What would you do if I kissed you?”
“I don’t know.”
“When you figure it out, you know where to find me.” He winks and walks away.