Forty-Four
Hudson
I’m locking the observation room door when a loud wolf whistle echoes down the hallway.
I’m already smiling before I turn around.
I watch Rowan close the distance. Her tote bag hangs from one hand, and there’s a brightness in her eyes that I’ve learned to look for over the last few weeks.
A good day. Not pain-free—I know better than to reduce her life to that—just a good one.
When she reaches me, I bend and kiss her right there in the middle of the hallway.
Her hand curls around the back of my neck, her lips softening into a smile against mine.
The last few weeks have settled into a rhythm neither of us planned, but we both stopped fighting.
Her toothbrush is beside mine. My coffee appears on her studio workbench.
Sometimes we have dinner at eleven because she forgot to eat until I showed up with food.
Her legs draped across my lap while she sketches and I read.
My spare key on her ring, and a twenty-pound bag of cat food sitting in my trunk because buying kibble in bulk is apparently something I do now.
Rowan asleep in my bed. Rowan painting in my house. Rowan calling me when she’s tired instead of waiting until she can barely stand.
Ordinary, quiet things I didn’t know I wanted until they became mine.
She pulls back. “How was the session?”
“Can’t tell you. You’re out of the group, and your confidentiality agreement expired.”
“I keep hoping sex will loosen your professional ethics.”
“Ineffective so far.” I tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “How was group?”
“Good. I think I’ll go back next week.”
“I’m glad. You hungry?” I ask.
“Always.”
“Dinner?”
Her eyebrows lift. “Dr. Vaughn.”
I already know what’s coming. “Ms. Callahan.”
“Are you asking me on a date?”
“I believe that’s generally what dinner implies.”
She presses a hand dramatically to her chest. “My God. A date. With me?”
We’ve been on many, but she still likes to tease me.
I take her hand and head toward the exit. “Italian?”
“Nice Italian, or pasta-on-a-paper-plate Italian?”
“Nice. I made a reservation.”
She narrows her eyes. “What are you, my boyfriend or something?”
“I’m considering the application. The benefits seem decent.”
“The benefits are incredible,” she says, poking my chest. “Have you seen the girl? She’s a ten. Extremely bendy.”
“She’s a handful,” I correct.
“Yeah, but you love me.”
“Unfortunately.”
She laughs, leaning up on her tiptoes until her face is inches from mine. The teasing fades, her expression softening into something so real it steals the air from my lungs.
“I love you, too,” she whispers.
My heart takes off, slamming against my ribs hard enough to bruise. I feel the sudden surge of heat in my throat, but I keep my face straight.
“Well,” I say, my voice dropping. “In that case.”
Before she can react, I bend, sweep an arm around her thighs, and hoist her straight up over my shoulder.
“What are you—Hudson!” she shrieks, the hallway flipping upside down as she bursts into a breathless laugh. “Hugh fucking Jackman, put me down!”
I adjust my grip.
“This is not an appropriate response to a declaration of love. You’re emotionally stunted.”
A nurse is entering the building as I approach the door. I step aside to give her room.
“Evening,” I say.
Rowan is shaking with silent laughter so hard her cheek vibrates against my back.
The nurse steps to the side. “Dr. Vaughn.”
“Tell her you’re my boyfriend!” Rowan calls out, lifting her head.
“Never.” I bring my hand down with a firm smack on her ass. “Let’s get out of here.”