48. Chapter 47
Chapter 47
Finnley
“Run upstairs and change, and I’ll get the picnic ready, ok?” I say, dropping my purse on the island and kicking off my shoes by the door.
We’ve just come home from our Mommy and Me date. Despite Tristen’s absence, and her canceling her trip altogether, Paige has been surprisingly happy all day. She chattered on like any other day while I put her hair into Dutch braids.
She had given my hand a tug just outside the community center, stopping me before we went inside, and I’d crouched down to her level. She hesitantly cupped her tiny hand around her mouth and leaned in real close to my ear. It melted my heart when she had whispered, “Can we say you’re my mommy?”
I wanted nothing more than to be introduced as her mom to all of her friends at camp, but since we hadn’t discussed things beforehand with Hudson, I wasn’t sure it was the best idea. Not that he would mind, but Timber Forge is a small town and people talk. So, I’d pulled her into a hug and given her an alternative .
“I used to call my mom, ‘mama.’ How about you call me Mama Finnley?”
Her eyes had beamed up at me and she’d nodded vigorously, her braids whipping up from her shoulders with the movement.
Paige doesn’t know it yet, but I am going to be the very best stepmom I can for her.
I watch her now, heading for the stairs to go and change. She drops her backpack on the floor next to the stairs, then grabs ahold of the newel post and swings her way up the first two steps.
“Hey, sweet girl, remember what your dad said about your backpack?” I call out.
She halts, then tiptoes backward down the stairs, eyes widened comically and lips tipped down into a funny frown. It makes me chuckle. “I forgot. Sorry, Finnley.
I watch her go with a smile in her direction. When she gets halfway up the stairs, she stops, and her nose scrunches up in thought.
“What’s up, sweet girl?” I start unpacking the food we picked up from Nat at Timber’s Treats.
“Can I still call you Mama Finnley?” she asks, her backpack dangling from her fingertips.
Hearing her call me that tugs at my heart strings. I want that more than anything and the thought hits me like a ton of bricks.
“We’ll talk to your daddy, ok?”
“Ok.” She nods, grinning. “I hope he says yes.”
“Me too, sweetheart.” I watch her disappear up the stairs, my throat tight and eyes stinging with tears. My heart is so full, it feels like it might burst, and I can’t wait to tell Hudson about our day.
We’ve decided not to tell Paige we were married until we’ve had time to ease her into us being in a relationship first. Especially with how sad she’d been about Tristen canceling her trip. He and I both feel very strongly that Paige deserves to know, but we want it to come from us. We haven’t hammered out all the details of what that will look like yet, but we will tell her soon. Kids are resilient, and after today, I’m hopeful she’ll take it well. What Hudson and I have is amazing, but Paige comes first. For both of us.
I spread out a blanket on the floor, setting out the food. After pulling up the newest princess movie Paige can’t stop raving about, I head upstairs to change.
I live out of laundry baskets. So, I rummage around for something comfy to wear, and pull out a pair of dark red leggings and a matching sports bra, then swap out my contacts for my glasses. I don’t mind washing or folding laundry, especially if I have a spicy audiobook in my ears and a view of my insanely hot husband, but I despise putting it away. Letting my hair down from the thick French braid has me moaning from how good it feels to unwind it after a long day.
Paige appears in the doorway to my bathroom, and I catch her in the reflection of the mirror.
“Ready,” she says in her sweet voice. Her arms are laden with babies, her pillow, and the pink throw from her room. Clutched in one hand is the small case that holds all her doll clothes and accessories. I can only see her nose and eyes, and her voice is muffled by the bulk of the blanket. “Can we play family after the movie?” she asks.
Running my fingers through my hair, I turn to her. “Absolutely. We can do whatever you want.” I smile at her, and she beams up at me before turning on her heel and heading back through my bedroom.
Snagging Hudson’s old NYU hoodie from the foot of my bed, I pull it over my head and shove my arms through the sleeves while I descend the stairs. His earthy, spicy scent envelops me.
Paige has lined up her baby dolls on the couch and she’s sitting crisscross on the blanket, her mouth full of a bite of her sandwich. She expertly calculates her insulin needs, while I head in to the kitchen to dose myself. Soon, I’ll have my pump, and these insulin pens will be a thing of the past. Halle-freaking-lujah.
Once I’m settled on the floor next to her, I dig into my food. Paige makes comments all through the movie, making me laugh as she munches on carrots and celery. At one point, she gets up and dances around the living room, then pulls the blanket off her babies and asks me to tie it around her shoulders like the cape the princess wears when she’s outside of the castle so no one can see her fancy dress and give away her real identity.
She parades around the living room, curtsying and pretending she’s dancing with the prince. “Did you know my mommy was Cinderella one time?” She spins, her arms held up like she’s dancing with an imaginary partner, while the credits on the movie roll.
I swallow the gulp of water I just took and nod. “I do.” I’ve moved to the couch, feeling every bit of my thirty-six years, with a stiff back and numb ass from sitting on the floor for an hour and a half.
Tristen didn’t actually play the part of Cinderella, but in Paige’s mind, Tristen is the most beautiful and talented ballerina in the whole world, and there is no way she was made to play any other part.
“I didn’t get to see her dance, but she said we can go to Paris someday to see her,” she says it with all the confidence of a six-year-old who still thinks her mother hangs the moon.
I smile and nod, wondering if she’ll ever accept that Tristen is never coming back. An unexpected pang of sadness washes over me. I hate that Tristen will always disappoint her, especially if the past is any indication. Hudson and I are waiting to tell her about us for valid reasons, but maybe if she knows I’m her stepmom, knowing I will be there might lessen the sting when Tristen misses things. It may not be the same, but her dad and I will make sure she knows that she’s loved every day. I’m hopeful it will be enough to fill in some of those cracks .
“Do you think my mommy will come home for Christmas? I want her to see the tree lighting in Town Square,” Paige rattles off. “I know it’s not as cool as Rockefeller’s tree, but it’s still super-duper pretty. Don’t you think?”
Hearing Paige talk about her mom like she would actually set foot in Timber Forge makes my stomach twist, and I don’t have the heart to tell her that she will never call this town home.
“I think it’s even prettier than Rockefeller’s,” I tell her, forcing a cheerfulness I don’t feel into my voice. I’m protective of both Paige and Hudson when it comes to that woman. Besides the fact that she has always been just this side of horrible to me—never really coming out and saying she hated my presence in their lives, but never being over friendly or even cordial, either.
She’d tolerate me when I’d visit, with her nose in the air, like the uppity socialite she was. And the couple of times Jeff and I visited, Tristen tended to gravitate more toward my ex than she did to me. Whatever. I never cared much. And I suppose it made sense. Jeff and Tristen both came from money, and both were too arrogant for their own good.
Good riddance to them, as far as I am concerned.
“Can we play family now?” Paige asks, swiping the homemade cape from around her neck and brushing her slightly sweaty hair off her forehead.
“Sure.” I nod.
She plops down next to me and picks up the mama doll, which she pushes into my hands. The doll is dressed in overalls and a T-shirt, her blond hair straight, but fuzzy.
“You be the mommy, and I’ll be me. Daddy can be working at Timber Haus for now, and we can pretend we’re shopping,” she says. She picks up her doll and runs a hand over the crazy black hair that is matted from taking the dolls into the tub with her .
“What about Roxy’s?” I ask, wondering if she truly understands all that her dad gave up to make a better life here in Timber Forge.
“I know he works there now, but Timber Haus is way nicer than Roxy’s,” she says matter-of-factly. “I think we might move back there one day.”
The moisture in my throat seems to evaporate and I have to clear it to speak. “I think your daddy is planning to stay here in Timber Forge.”
Maybe I should stay out of it, but the more she talks, the harder it is to listen because her mother is not coming back, and they will not be moving back to New York. At some point, she will have to come to terms with that. Still, it’s not my place to say anything without discussing it with Hudson. And as much as I hate it, I can’t help but hear that small voice in the back of my head whispering that things between Hudson and me could always change.
She shrugs and reaches for the case containing all her doll accessories and settles it on her lap, unzipping it. She rummages around for a couple of seconds, then pulls out a light pink leotard with a crinkly, sparkled tutu attached and drops it into my lap.
“Put that on her,” she says absently, then hands me a small brush. “Then, you can get the tangles out of her hair.”
My eyes drop to the doll in my hands. She’s blond like Tristen, but dressed in overalls and a T-shirt. “I like the outfit she has on. It looks more like something I would wear. And people don’t wear tutus to go shopping, silly,” I say, straightening out the straps of the doll’s overalls.
Paige stops rummaging in the case and pins me with her dark eyes and a skeptical look. “But my mommy would never wear overalls,” she says.
I raise my eyebrows as she looks back to her doll. “I wear overalls,” I say, mostly under my breath, but Paige looks back up at me with a shrug.
I swallow hard as I watch her, thickness building in my throat .
The comment is innocent, but it hits me in the chest. It’s not a judgment, just a statement of fact—and also a product of being raised in a home with someone like Tristen. Not that she ever did any actual raising of Paige. That was all Hudson. But Tristen never failed to look flawless. She was rarely without makeup, her hair always perfectly styled, and nails manicured. To be honest, I’m not sure I ever saw her without makeup and every outfit she owns is designer.
I suppose that’s easy to do when you have a rich daddy with a black Amex card. She even has a Birken bag. There’s a cool $40 K . It was a gift from her daddy for her birthday a couple of years ago. It makes me sick to think that selling that bag could probably pay my rent for the next four years.
She looks up at me, her face lighting up. “When you have a baby, you can get a mommy doll for you, and we can play all the time. You can call her Mama Finnley!”
I reach up and touch the necklace around my neck. Hudson and I have yet to discuss much, babies being one of them. We’re both past halfway to forty and trying to get new businesses off the ground. Still, maybe it’s in the cards. I really am getting way freaking ahead of myself. Although, the thought has a delicious warmth spreading throughout my body.
“I like that idea.”
“Me too, ‘cause you always do fun stuff with me,” she says, brushing hair off her forehead. “And you know a lot about diabetes, and it makes me not scared ‘cause we’re the same. And you’re kinda like a mommy to me already, right? ‘Cause you take care of me when my daddy isn’t home, and you make yummy dinners and paint my nails whenever I want.”
Her words squeeze my heart. I’ve always hated my diabetes, but Paige sees it as something that connects us. And that has a lightness spreading through my chest. It’s something. And maybe when she finds out I’m her stepmom, it’ll be one less thing we need to bridge the gap between being her dad’s best friend and being her stepmom. Only time will tell, I suppose.
“Yeah, I guess I kind of am sort of like a mommy,” I whisper and quickly brush away the tear that threatens to fall.
When Hudson can’t be here, and even sometimes when he is, I bathe her, feed her, tuck her in, read to her, and love her. Something I don’t think her mother even understands the meaning of. And now that Hudson and I have decided to be together, as soon as Paige knows, I really will be her stepmom. I’m not sure if she will understand what that means, but I want her to know that I will always be there for her, especially in ways that Tristen isn’t.
We play dolls for a good half an hour, then move on from playing family to fashion show. She has me doing outfit changes every few minutes, until I’ve got my doll dressed in a ballgown and hiking boots. Apparently, “doll Tristen” isn’t above that outfit choice. Soon, she’s asking to take a bath with her dolls.
I grab my Kindle from my room and run her a bath, then help her strip her dolls down to nothing before she climbs in. She’s under a mountain of bubbles, giggling delusionally, and tired as hell, when Hudson comes home.
I hear his boots hit the floor as he kicks them off next to the front door, and then his heavy footsteps on the stairs. I’m not surprised when he appears in the doorway a few seconds later, shoving half of the snickerdoodle cookie I left for him into his mouth.
He looks exhausted, but content. It looks really good on him, and I’m proud that all of our late nights tangled up in my sheets are part of the reason for that. He grins when he takes in the two of us, me sitting on the closed toilet lid and Paige happily playing with her dolls. The smile makes my belly flip-flop.
“Daddy!” Paige exclaims when she sees him .
He moves into the bathroom and crouches in front of the tub, dropping a kiss on Paige’s damp hair. His eyes hold nothing but love for his daughter as he looks down at her.
“Did you guys have fun today?” he asks, turning to me. His side brushes up against my knees in the small bathroom, sending chills skittering over my skin. Will I ever get over how his touch lights up my senses? God, I hope not.
Paige nods enthusiastically and launches into a recap of our night. Hudson listens intently, throwing me a smile when she talks at length about the Mommy and Me Day, the movie we watched, and how fun our carpet picnic was.
“Daddy, do you think it’s ok if I call her Mama Finnley?” she asks, tipping her chin at me. The gesture is so Hudson, and I would chuckle at the similarity if the subject matter wasn’t so serious.
I can only see his profile, but even from here, I can tell the question has made him emotional. His Adam’s apple works over a swallow, and he clears his throat before sliding his gaze to mine. I tuck my lip between my teeth to keep from grinning like a maniac.
“Mama Finnley, huh?” he asks, turning his attention back to Paige.
“Yeah,” she says, scratching her nose with a bubble-covered hand. “She kinda feels like a mommy to me. So, can I?”
Hudson’s eyes dance back over to mine, and then he nods. “I think that’s a great idea, Pipsqueak. As long as Finn’s ok with it.”
Two sets of hazel eyes land on me and mine mist over. I nod. “I’d love that.”
“Yes!” Paige grins from ear to ear, making a laugh bubble up from my chest, my smile watery.
Hudson’s eyes find mine again and he looks a little teary himself. But it’s what he says next that has me stunned into silence.
“Since we’re on the subject, Paige, would it be ok with you if I take Finnley out on a date?”
Paige lets out a giggle behind her hand, then rolls her eyes. “Daddyyy,” she says, “aren’t you supposed to go on dates before you have sleepovers?”
I’m pretty sure both Hudson and I have lost the ability to speak.
It’s Hudson who breaks first. “Sleepovers?” he asks, eyebrows raised.
Paige nods. “Yeah. You and Finnley have sleepovers every night, don’t you?” she asks, swishing her hand through the bubbles on the surface of the water.
Hudson cuts a surprised glance my way. All I can do is shrug imperceptibly.
“Yeah, I guess we do,” he says, head bobbing.
Well, so much for sneaking around. I almost laugh. I search Paige’s face for any discomfort or a sign that she’s uncomfortable with the idea. There isn’t any.
“So, you’re ok with that then? Us…having sleepovers and going on dates?”
Paige shrugs and a sly smile tugs up the corners of her mouth. “I think if it’s ok with Finnley, it’s ok with me.”
Hudson lets out a bark of laughter and he grins over at me. I shake my head at him with a matching one. The little shit. We have obviously vastly underestimated this adorable little girl.
Paige goes back to playing with her dolls. Hudson stands up, and I follow.
He lowers his voice. “Well, that was easy,” he murmurs.
“Sure was,” I say, grinning up at him. We both look back to Paige, who is now singing softly to herself. “Did you get something to eat?”
“No, but I can take over if you want,” he says, rolling his head on his shoulders. He looks so tired, but he never lets it keep him from taking care of Paige. He’s such a good dad. I want to help lighten some of his burden .
“I’m good. I picked up sandwiches from Nat. Yours is in the fridge. Why don’t you go shower, and I’ll get Paige ready for bed?”
His relief is immediate the second the words are out of my mouth. “You’re amazing. Thanks, babe,” he says, dropping a kiss to the top of my head. My stomach flutters with pleasure. He smells like sunshine, the light tang of sweat, and everything Hudson. The combination of his proximity and words are a heady combination.
And he sets my pulse racing. God, you’d think I had a praise kink, the way his words light up my body and drop a thudding beat straight to my clit. Especially when he moves to the door and pulls off his shirt, bunching it in his fist.
My eyes roam over all that exposed skin. The roundness of his pecs, dusted lightly with dark hair. The trail of that same hair, thicker as it disappears under the waistband of his dirty pants. The veins in his bicep and forearm as he grips the shirt in his fist. And his toned abs have me licking my suddenly dry lips. I squeeze my thighs together.
His hands are clean, but there are telltale signs of the hard work he did today. A smudge of something that looks like it won’t come off—tree sap, maybe—on the back of his hand. His nails show signs of it, as well; they aren’t neatly trimmed like they usually are, and it gives him a ruggedness not typical of Hudson. Everything about him in this moment is fucking mouthwatering.
I can’t wait to get Paige into bed so I can get my husband naked. Instinctively, I reach up and touch the necklace hanging around my neck. Hudson’s eyes follow the movement, and I instantly know he’s thinking the same thing. He tosses me a wink and leaves the room.