Epilogue 6 Months Later #2
A reporter who’d been hovering nearby stepped forward, digital recorder in hand. “Would you mind if I asked a few questions? Your journey from rivals to partners fascinated our readers.”
I glanced at Hudson, who nodded.
“Sure, why not?” I said, grinning.
She looked between us. “Excellent. How did you two move past the professional rivalry—and the, ah, well-documented idea theft—to become partners?”
Straight for the jugular. I had to admire her directness, at least.
To my surprise, Hudson didn’t immediately jump in with a perfectly crafted response. Instead, he looked at me. “Mari should answer that one.”
“We learned that the best partnerships aren’t about who gets the credit,” I said, finding the words surprisingly easy. “They’re about creating something better together than either of us could alone.”
“Even after the betrayal? The public confession? That fire at the wedding expo?” the reporter pressed.
“Especially after that.” I met Hudson’s eyes, seeing the mixture of regret and hope that still sometimes flickered there. “Real partnerships aren’t built on perfection. They’re built on honesty, accountability, and the willingness to do better when you’ve screwed up spectacularly.”
“And has he?” the reporter asked. “Done better?”
I pretended to consider the question, tapping my chin thoughtfully. “Well, he still hogs the bathroom mirror in the morning and insists on organizing our shared calendar within an inch of its life, which is both annoying and relieving.”
“We’re both very busy, and I enjoy building in time to be together,” Hudson explained.
“But yes,” I continued, my voice softening despite my best efforts to maintain my sass levels. “He’s done better. We both have.”
The reporter seemed satisfied with that, jotting down a few notes before thanking us and moving on to interrogate other guests. As she walked away, Hudson leaned down to whisper in my ear.
“Organizing the calendar was your idea, not mine.”
“Details, details.” I waved a dismissive hand. “Never let the facts get in the way of a good interview narrative.”
His laugh rumbled against me. “Have I told you today that I love you?”
“Only twice. You’re slipping, Jones.”
“I love you, Mari Landry.”
“Three times. Much better.”
Throughout the evening, I caught glimpses of Devonna and Miles circulating through the crowd, her professional smile firmly in place, his charm turned up to maximum wattage.
But I also noticed the way she tensed when he placed his hand on the small of her back, the slight edge to her laughter when he told what was clearly an embellished story to a group of industry professionals.
Something was definitely off there, and my curiosity was thoroughly piqued.
“She’s acting weird, isn’t she?” Anica asked, startling me when she and Callan appeared out of nowhere.
“Definitely.” I hugged Anica and then Callan. “Don’t you two look dapper?”
“Thank you, Landry.” Callan put an arm around his wife, offering his free hand to Hudson. “Good to see you again, Hudson. I hear you’re doing well in your programming classes.”
Hudson raised an eyebrow at me, and I shrugged. “What? When he married my best friend, they became one person. I tell Ani everything. Not my fault she tells him. What else are they supposed to talk about 24/7? It’s not like I told them how large your—“
“It’s going well, thank you.” Hudson cleared his throat to interrupt me.
“And you’re enjoying it?” Callan asked, clearly trying to stay professional even as a grin crossed his face.
“Yes. If given the chance, I’d go back and do this from the start.”
“But then we wouldn’t have met,” I said, jabbing him in the side.
“True.” He copied Callan, wrapping his arm around me. “I suppose I won’t use that time machine I found the other day.”
Anica glanced between us, her head tilted. “I have a question that would settle a little bet between Cal and me.”
“Okay, shoot.” I raised my eyebrow when Callan’s eyes widened.
“Darling, are you really—”
“How soon after you and Hudson met did you sleep together?”
Hudson stiffened beside me, and I grinned like a maniac.
“Mar, you don’t need to—” He started, but I cut him off with an obnoxious giggle.
“You two bet on how quickly we’d fuck? What were your bets?”
“Mari,” Hudson warned. I ignored him.
“Tell us first.” Anica crossed her arms. For what felt like the first time, Callan looked embarrassed because of his wife instead of the other way around.
“Well,” I said, drawing out the word. “Remember how gross you two were being the night before we set the expo on fire?”
Anica rolled her eyes, but nodded. “We weren’t being gross.”
“Yes, you were. So I went down to the bar, and would you believe it, there was a guy there who was staring at me with these fuck-me eyes.”
“No,” Anica gasped, glancing between Hudson and me. Hudson had covered half of his face with his hand as his cheeks reddened. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope!” I chirped, leaning into Hudson’s side. “We didn’t exchange names. Didn’t realize who he was until later the next day after he’d railed my brains out.”
Callan chuckled, shaking his head. “Damn man, I wouldn’t have thought you’d have it in you. We should get a drink sometime.”
“Stop hitting on my man, Burkhardt.” I shot Callan a glare. “What were your bets?”
“I think I won. I guessed a week, and he said a month,” Anica said.
“Technically, you were both wrong.” Hudson finally spoke with a resigned sigh.
“Details,” Anica said, waving her hand dismissively. “I won.”
“What’s your prize?” I asked.
Anica opened her mouth, but Callan reached over and covered it before she could answer.
“We should be going. Getting late and all that. Have a nice rest of your party.” Callan kissed Anica on the temple, hand still over her mouth as he dragged her back against his chest. He led her away, finally releasing her when they were halfway across the roof.
She wiggled her eyebrows at me and waved.
“Think it has to do with sex?” I asked, glancing up at Hudson.
“Definitely. Come on. There are still more guests and potential investors to suck up to.”
As the party wound down, though, my attention fell on Hudson’s behavior—the way he kept checking his watch, the slight nervousness in his smile, the way he seemed to be waiting for something.
It wasn’t like him to be anxious at professional events; if anything, these kinds of gatherings were where he was most in his element.
“Is everything okay?” I asked as we thanked the last departing guests. “You seem... twitchy.”
“Twitchy?” He raised an eyebrow, his expression a bit too innocent. “I’m not twitchy.”
“You’ve checked your watch seven times in the last twenty minutes.
Either you’re developing a nervous tic or you’ve got somewhere else to be.
” I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “Please tell me you didn’t schedule a late-night meeting with investors.
I’m wearing heels that were designed by someone who clearly hates women, and my feet are staging another full-scale rebellion. ”
“No meetings,” he assured me, his hand finding the small of my back again. “I just want everything to be perfect.”
“Perfect for what? The party’s over. The app launched. All that’s left is for me to take off these torture devices disguised as shoes and eat something larger than a thimble.”
Instead of answering, he nodded to the event staff, who had been in the process of cleaning up. To my surprise, they quietly gathered their things and filed out, leaving us alone on the rooftop.
“Did you just dismiss the cleaning crew?” I asked, bewildered. “Because I’m pretty sure that’s not in our venue contract. Also slightly dictatorial. And I really don’t want to clean in four-inch heels.”
“They’ll be back,” he said, taking my hand and leading me toward the edge of the rooftop where the city lights spread out before us. “I just wanted a few minutes alone with you first.”
The night air had cooled, and a gentle breeze ruffled my hair as Hudson pulled me into his arms. The sounds of the city drifted up from below—distant sirens, the honking of taxis, the perpetual hum that was uniquely New York.
Above us, actual stars competed with the city lights, creating a perfect ceiling to our private moment.
“Dance with me,” Hudson said softly.
“There’s no music,” I pointed out, though I was already settling into his arms, my body swaying with his as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“We don’t need music.”
We moved together in silence for a few moments; the city provided its own soundtrack, my head resting against his chest where the steady beat of his heart thumped against my ear. Despite my aching feet and empty stomach, there was nowhere else I’d rather be.
“This app launch wasn’t the only thing I wanted to celebrate tonight,” Hudson said after a while, his voice a low rumble.
I tilted my head back to look up at him. “What else is there?”
“I was thinking about us. About how far we’ve come.”
“From me wanting to strangle you with your own tie to slow dancing on a rooftop?” I smiled. “I’d call that progress.”
“Definite progress.” His expression grew more serious, his eyes holding mine and making my pulse quicken.
“Mari, the past six months have been the most challenging, rewarding, transformative time of my life. Building the app, rebuilding trust between us, discovering who we are together without all the baggage we both carried...”
Something in his tone made my heart race. “Hudson...”
“Let me finish, please.” He took a deep breath, his hands tightening at my waist. “When I sold my business and changed my name, it wasn’t just about distancing myself from the Gable legacy.
It was about becoming someone new. Someone better.
Someone worthy of standing beside you as a true partner.
I chose ‘Jones’ because it was simple, unremarkable, a blank slate.
But I’ve been thinking lately that there might be a better name out there for me. ”