Chapter 16 Hudson
“Guess you didn’t smooth things over then?
” Adrian asks, taking up space beside me on the second-floor balcony.
The peaks of the Tetons glow a majestic purple as the day blends into night, and as much as I’m grateful for the extra hours that come with western summers, I’m thankful that this one is ending because I’m not sure how much more I can take.
I wish I could go in there and scream that this is all a misunderstanding.
That over the course of our friendship, I meant every word, every laugh, every well-timed innuendo.
That I could take her in my arms and press my mouth in the space right under her ear and have her melt into me again.
That she’d look at me the same way she did outside Finn’s.
But more than any of it, I just want her to trust me again.
“I think she hates me more than before,” I sigh, gripping the railing, the soft wood splintering into my skin.
“Take this from a guy who doesn’t make friends easily—you’re hard to hate,” Adrian says, pulling out a cigarette and handing the pack to me.
The first and last time I smoked a cigarette was when Grant and his friends invited me to party with them on George’s sailboat one summer. And just like the cigarette, the experience left a bitter taste in my mouth.
“I’m good,” I say, waving them off.
Adrian slips the pack into his pocket, and pulls out a lighter.
“Good on you, mate,” he says, lighting up and taking a drag. “I’ve tried to quit, but occasions like this, with all these people, and the drama, it’s good to have an excuse to go outside for a few minutes.”
He leans his back against the railing, facing me as he takes another drag. “Vanessa told me not to say anything, but I have to ask, man, why are you and Katherine even faking this thing in the first place?”
“The truth?”
Adrian nods.
“I thought it would make things easier,” I reply, chuckling at the irony. “I didn’t want to deal with my mother asking a million questions or playing matchmaker, or worse, trying to get us back together. But I never considered that Mira would be here, or that she’d be sleeping in our fucking room.”
“Oof. That’s a tough break,” Adrian says, stamping out his cigarette. “But if you like this girl you have to consider her feelings too. I mean, if Vanessa was here with another guy, pretend or not, I’d be losing my shit.”
I drag my hand down my face. “I want to tell her. Hell, I’ve tried to tell her. But at this point I doubt she’d believe anything I said.”
“If it helps, Vanessa and I will back you up,” Adrian assures me.
“I appreciate that,” I say, watching as the purples and golds fade into an inky darkness over the mountaintops. It’s beautiful and I wish I could be sharing this moment with Mira, moving that stubborn curl behind her ear before I kiss her goodnight.
“Before you talk to anyone though, you should use our shower. You smell like a river.”
“You sure?”
“Everyone else is at the party,” Adrian assures me, opening the door to his room. “And it might be good for you. Clear your head a bit.”
“Thanks, man.”
“Don’t mention it.”
I set a reminder on my phone to send him and Vanessa a thank you for their generosity as I make my way into their bathroom once again.
Stripping down, my suit is wrecked, the fabric damp and the fibers discolored, but I don’t care.
Going in after her had been instinctive, a deep-rooted impulse to keep her safe at all costs.
A gesture that only made matters worse as she swam away from me, more irritated than before.
In my life I’ve always been the one to think things through, to slow down and make rational decisions, but with Mira I seem to be always jumping first.
Once I’m clean, I borrow a pair of Adrian’s shorts and a tee, and towel-dry my hair. My body might feel refreshed but the tension is still heavy across my shoulders as I make my way outside.
“Hudson,” Tonya says, flagging me down outside the entrance and handing me a sheet of paper. “I’m sure you don’t need one of these, but we wanted to make sure everyone is prepared in case any of our furry friends make another appearance this week.”
I stare down at the infographic on bear safety.
“There’s a twenty-percent-off coupon for bear spray in there too.”
When it comes to black bears I know it’s safer to scare them away using a bear bell or raising your arms and making loud noises than it is to try to Mace them in the face, but I nod just the same.
“Make sure to spread the word,” she says cheerfully, making her way inside, tacking a sheet on every door.
Folding the paper, I place it in my pocket as I follow the gravel path to the cabins. I’m only halfway up the drive when I hear Grant shouting.
“You can’t be serious?” he says to George, who is lugging a pair of suitcases down the stairs.
“That cabin isn’t suitable,” George states, stopping in front of the black SUV, the headlights lighting the scene ahead.
“For Susan?” Grant argues, placing his hand on the door before his father can open it.
George puffs out his chest, making him appear taller. “Do you really think we would stick around after that disaster this afternoon?”
“We didn’t know it was going to be like that. The brochure said—” Grant claims, but George cuts him off.
“The brochure? Are you kidding me? We offered you all the money in the world to have a proper wedding and you chose a venue out of a roadside brochure. I swear, Grant, it’s as if you brought us out here just to humiliate us.”
“Dad,” Grant sighs, his voice soft, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
And for a moment I glimpse the nine-year-old kid I first met, begging his father to stay home for the weekend instead of going to another golf tournament.
The one I’d hear crying alone in his room, aching with grief for his mother.
I can’t help but wonder if he might have had a bit more compassion for others growing up if anyone had taken the time to give him some proper loving attention back when he was a boy.
I don’t realize that I’m walking towards them until George turns to me.
“Ah, Hudson, can you go inside and help your mother? I think she has a few more bags to bring down.”
Grant’s eyes flash at my presence. I can tell he didn’t expect to have an audience for this exchange. I give him a sympathetic nod, an olive branch, but he retreats to his cabin, slamming the door.
Inside my mother’s cabin, the energy is just as toxic.
“You wouldn’t believe it,” Susan roars into the phone.
“That girl drags us all the way to the middle of nowhere, shoves us in this tenement housing for the week, and then proceeds to torture us for an entire afternoon.” She acknowledges my presence by holding up a finger, as I lean against the kitchen counter.
“Yes. I need your help. Any connections you have out here I’ll take them. Doesn’t matter the cost.”
My mother moves her conversation upstairs, as George steps back into the cabin. Since we have almost nothing in common, our relationship consists mostly of long stretches of silence.
We both stand there, waiting for Susan to finish up.
“So,” George says, pouring himself a glass of wine, “you’re going to take Elite public when you take over? Finally bring that company to the next level?”
I’m not sure if he’s asking because he wants to be first on the jump or if he’s planning on offering actual financial advice, but I mimic the same answer my father has been shelling out for years.
“We aren’t considering it at this time.”
Although opening Elite to the public market would increase our profit margins, my father has never wanted the core values of the company to get lost in corporate greed.
From the beginning he has always paid a living wage, offered health and dental packages, and given each employee a two-week travel opportunity on top of their vacation days.
“If you change your mind, you know where to find me,” George says, pouring the remaining wine down the sink.
“Let’s go,” my mother says, carrying a Louis Vuitton duffel down the stairs. “I can’t be in this place another minute. Hudson, can you bring the rest of my luggage?”
“Are you coming back tomorrow?” I ask, grabbing two heavy suitcases and wondering if they are forgoing the wedding entirely.
“I have a meeting with a wedding planner in an hour,” my mother says, checking her watch.
The fact that it’s already nine o’clock makes me wonder how much money they’re shelling out for this last-minute addition.
“Please tell your brother to answer his phone when I call in the morning. We have some things to discuss.”
I give her a reassuring nod as I follow her out. After loading her cases into the trunk, I watch them drive away and I swear I can hear celebratory applause coming from the cabins as their taillights disappear into the darkness.