Chapter 10 #2
He lifts her up effortlessly, kissing her cheek. "I see it, baby girl. It's beautiful."
"Violet let us do it all by ourselves," she announces proudly.
His eyes find mine across the room. "Did she now?"
"We saved the star for you, Dad," Silvie says, holding up the gold tree topper.
Hudson sets Lucy down, surprise evident on his face. "You did?"
Silvie nods. "It's tradition, right? You used to always put the star on."
A shadow of emotion crosses his features. "That's right, Sil."
"Well, come on then," she urges, something almost playful in her tone. "The tree's not done without the star."
Hudson removes his coat and boots, then joins us by the tree. Silvie hands him the star, their hands touching briefly in the exchange. A small moment, but significant given her usual guardedness.
He reaches up, placing the star at the top of the tree, his tall frame making it an easy task. When he steps back, we all stand together, admiring our handiwork.
"What do you think?" I ask softly, standing beside him.
"It's perfect," he says, but he's looking at me, not the tree.
The timer in the kitchen beeps, breaking the moment. "That's dinner," I explain, stepping back. "I put lasagna in earlier."
"You cooked too?" Hudson sounds impressed.
"Nothing fancy. Just something warm for when you all got home."
Home. There's that word again, settling comfortably between us.
Dinner is a lively affair, the girls chattering about returning to school in a couple weeks, friends, and Christmas wishes.
Hudson catches my eye across the table occasionally, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
Each time, my heart does that ridiculous fluttering thing that I'm starting to accept as permanent whenever he's around.
After dinner, Hudson takes the girls upstairs for baths and bedtime while I clean up the kitchen and put away a load of laundry I did earlier. It's domestic and ordinary and somehow more fulfilling than anything I've done in years.
I'm folding Hudson's shirts in our bedroom when my phone rings. Dad's name flashes on the screen, and I hesitate before answering on speaker so I can continue folding.
"Hi, Dad."
"Finally decided to answer, huh?" His words are slightly slurred. Great. He's been drinking.
"I left you a note. And lasagna in the fridge."
"The house is a mess, Violet. The sink's leaking again, and there's no clean towels. I don't know what you expect me to do here by myself."
"Dad, I was just there. I did three loads of laundry, including towels. And I showed you how to fix the sink last time."
"That's not the point," he snaps. "You should be here, not shacking up with that hooligan."
I close my eyes briefly. "He's my husband, Dad. And his name is Hudson."
"Husband," he scoffs. "We both know what that is. A business deal. You think he actually cares about you? You're just a convenience to him."
The words sting more than they should, echoing my own fears.
"You're being unfair," I say quietly. "Hudson has been nothing but good to me."
"Good to you?" Dad laughs harshly. "He's using you, Violet. And when he gets what he wants, he'll toss you aside like yesterday's trash. Then where will you be?"
I open my mouth to respond, but a deep voice from the doorway cuts me off.
"That's enough."
Hudson stands there, his expression thunderous. I hadn't heard him come in.
"Excuse me?" Dad sputters.
"I said that's enough." Hudson steps into the room, his voice low and deadly. "You don't get to speak to her that way. Not in my house. Not anywhere."
"This isn't your business—"
"My wife is absolutely my business," Hudson interrupts. "And since you seem confused about a few things, let me clear them up. Violet is not a convenience. She's not being used. She's an incredible woman who deserves respect, especially from her father."
Dad falls silent, clearly not expecting this.
"Violet has been taking care of you for years," Hudson continues. "Cleaning your house, cooking your meals, making sure bills get paid. And instead of gratitude, you give her guilt. That stops now."
"Hudson," I whisper, overwhelmed by his defense.
He glances at me, his expression softening slightly before turning back to the phone. "Violet will visit when she chooses to. She'll help when she wants to. But she is not responsible for your wellbeing, and I won't let you make her feel like she is."
"Who the hell do you think you are?" Dad demands.
"I'm the man who sees your daughter's worth," Hudson replies simply. "It's a shame you don't."
He reaches over and ends the call, the room falling silent except for the distant sounds of the girls settling down in their rooms.
"I'm sorry," he says after a moment. "I shouldn't have interfered. But the way he was talking to you..."
"No one's ever done that before," I say, my voice barely audible.
"Done what?"
"Stood up for me like that."
Something flashes in Hudson's eyes—anger, sadness, determination. He crosses to me in two long strides, taking my hands in his much larger ones.
"Violet, listen to me. You deserve better than how he treats you. You deserve to be valued, appreciated, respected. Not just for what you do for others, but for who you are."
"And who do you think I am, Hud?" I ask, genuinely curious about how he sees me.
"You're kind without being weak. Strong without being hard. You see the best in people, even when they don't deserve it. You make this house feel like a home. You've brought my daughters joy and comfort in just a few days." His voice softens. "You're remarkable, Goldie."
Tears prick my eyes. "Hud..."
He brushes a strand of hair from my face, his touch gentle. "I know this started as an arrangement. But I need you to know that whatever happens between us, I see you. All of you. And you are worth far more than you've been led to believe."
The sincerity in his eyes undoes me. I lean forward, pressing my forehead against his chest. His arms come around me immediately, strong and secure.
"Thank you," I whisper against his shirt.
He tilts my face up, his expression intense. "Don't thank me for telling the truth."
Then he kisses me, and it's different from our previous kisses. Not driven by physical desire, though that's certainly there. This kiss feels like a promise, an affirmation, a shelter.
When we part, I'm breathless. "The girls?"
"All tucked in," he murmurs, his hands spanning my waist. "Silvie asked if you'd help her with something tomorrow. Something about Christmas cookies for a school friend named Trevor."
I laugh softly. "She told you about Trevor?"
"Mentioned him in passing." His eyebrows furrow slightly. "Should I be concerned?"
"Not at all. Just a boy she sits next to in class." I smooth my hands over his chest. "She's growing up, Hudson. It's normal."
He groans. "Don't remind me." His expression turns serious again. "Thank you for today. For being here for them. For making this place..." he gestures around, "feel alive."
"I enjoyed it," I admit. "More than I expected to."
His hands tighten slightly on my waist as I rise on my tiptoes and kiss him again, losing myself in his embrace, in the feeling of belonging that I've found in this unexpected place with this unexpected man.
In this moment, I'm not thinking about the arrangement or what happens when it ends. I'm not worried about my father or the money or promises made. I'm just here, in Hudson's arms, feeling more at home than I ever have before.
For now, that's enough.