Chapter 19 Mira
“Ahhhh,” I groan, rolling over and removing the water bottle digging into my back.
Light streaks across the room through the blindless windows as I reach for my phone to check the time.
It’s almost noon. Whatever sleep I was able to manage through the drunken night was dreamless, leaving me with the sensation of having just closed my eyes.
I open the bottle and take a swig, trying to wash away the rancid aftertaste that’s lingering in my mouth.
The memory of Derrick’s tongue against mine immediately inspires an urge to brush my teeth.
But then another memory comes into focus.
Hudson’s face illuminated by firelight. Of him getting me into bed safely. And the words that echo in my mind.
“I really, really like you too.”
Present tense.
How could he say that to me, and then go to sleep next to his girlfriend?
I tell myself not to rationalize his actions.
Because if this year has taught me anything, it’s that some people have no shame.
Peeking over the edge of the guardrail, I expect to find them cuddled up together, but the bed is empty, the sheets crumpled and mussed, and I wonder if they spent the evening tangled up in them.
I push the image from my mind as I lie down and pretend to be asleep when the door opens.
I can tell it’s Hudson by the scent of his shampoo, the earthy aroma soothing my nervous system as he passes by.
I hear the rustling of a paper cup being placed on the windowsill beside my bunk, the smell of fresh coffee wafting through the air, and I open an eye and see my name scribbled along the side.
“Thought you might need that,” Hudson says, standing a few steps away from me.
He’s dressed more like himself this morning, in burnt-orange shorts and a boxy white t-shirt with the Great Smoky Mountains screen-printed on it.
There’s stubble on his face, having forgone his morning shave, and I’m reminded of the man I knew at Finn’s.
Who exuded confidence even when he had no idea what he was doing.
Who always made me a priority no matter how busy it was.
Who I couldn’t imagine going a day without seeing.
I grab the cup, bringing the warm, aromatic liquid to my lips. The simple, sweet cinnamon balances the robust richness as I moan into the cup before realizing it’s my exact order.
“How did you know?”
“You told me,” he explains. “The day we were complaining about Starbucks.”
It was a blip of a conversation, a side note on how corporations like to rip people off with overly sweet drinks that are excessively complicated. I can’t believe he remembered; then again, I knew what would be in his cup as well.
“Earl Grey or peppermint?” He kept both on his person at all times, explaining how no matter where he went he could always find hot water. The quirk came in handy a few times I complained of a sore throat at Finn’s, as he offered up his selection for me to choose from.
“Earl Grey,” he clarifies, taking a sip.
I watch as he cradles his cup close to his chest.
“I thought you might be hungry, so I left a few things down here for you,” he says, taking a step back. The thought of food immediately makes my stomach rumble as I try to remember the last time I ate a proper meal.
I wait for him to leave before I climb down, ecstatic to find a pastry box waiting for me on the desk.
Inside is a smorgasbord of sweet treats: croissants, scones, muffins, Danishes, and even a chicken biscuit.
I’ve devoured half the biscuit when I see a large bag, plain tissue paper tucked around the edges, sitting on the bottom bunk. I pluck the note attached.
I know this doesn’t make it up to you, but I hope it earns me a fraction of your forgiveness. If you’re willing to give me a few minutes of your time, I’d love for us to be able to talk. Meet me outside by the main cabins? Hudson
I peek inside and see a beautiful leather camera bag, a replacement for the one I destroyed yesterday. The gesture, while sweet, still stings, adding proverbial salt to the wound as I’m reminded of everything I lost. But when I lift it out of its wrapping I’m taken aback by its weight.
With shaky hands, I unzip the main compartment and find an arsenal of items inside. Three camera bodies, multiple lenses, two flashes, and even a matching leather hand strap. Hudson hasn’t just replaced my gear; he’s upgraded it.
I reach for the camera body, removing the protective cap and attaching my go-to lens, a prime thirty-five millimeter.
It snaps into place beautifully as I power on the camera, glancing through the viewfinder, snapping a sample photo.
The shutter is quick, the focus sharp, and the image on the LCD is crisp and vibrant.
I’ll be able to give Meredith the photos she deserves. I’ll be able to save my business.
Elation courses through me, until I do a mental calculation of how much this must have cost him. Feeling guilty is one thing, but thirty thousand dollars’ worth of gear doesn’t feel like an apology, it feels like a bribe.
I can’t use it, can I?
I don’t want Hudson to think I can be bought, but I have to admit I’m curious as to what he wants to say to me.
It’s not as if he can lie about having a girlfriend at this point.
And after all the trouble he must have gone through to get this for me, a simple conversation doesn’t seem like that unreasonable of a request.
Throwing on one of Vanessa’s athleisure outfits that make my boobs look amazingly perky, I make my way outside to find him.
“Glad to see you survived last night,” Vanessa says when I step out of the door, her eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses as she sits at one of the picnic tables outside the barn, her head resting in her hand.
She takes a giant gulp from the pink plastic water bottle she’s holding, the color matching her activewear set. “I, on the other hand, am struggling.”
“It’s the sugar,” Adrian groans, taking a seat beside her, looking a little less worse for wear. “You Americans have to put sugar in everything. Alcohol should be simple. Beer or whiskey.”
Vanessa swats at a mosquito on her arm, grabbing a bottle of bug spray from the table and spraying it all over her body.
“Good call,” I say, noticing the bites on my own arms. “I got eaten up last night.”
“Considering we’re about to spend the rest of the day outside, I need to be proactive.”
“What are you doing?” I ask, curious if Meredith’s scheduled one of those group-building exercises like capture the flag or a human relay.
“We are sourcing wildflowers for the bouquets and floral arrangements on our nature walk,” she explains, just as Angie, Jocelyn, and Katherine file out of the lobby carrying plastic buckets.
The statement takes me off guard. “Meredith didn’t hire a florist?”
“She said she wanted the entire event to be authentic to the land,” Jocelyn explains, pulling her hair back into a ponytail.
Vanessa’s eyes find mine, and I know we are thinking the same thing. On nights out in college, Meredith would always forget something: her keys, her phone, where she parked her car. So it’s entirely possible that she would forget something as pivotal as a florist.
“Are you going to be joining us?” Katherine asks.
It’s the first time we’ve really spoken since I arrived, and although her words sound friendly enough, her body language is anything but.
“I was actually going to do some recon at the park. Find the best spots for photos for tomorrow,” I lie, avoiding the fact that I came out here to find her boyfriend.
But now that I’ve said it aloud, it would be a way to get me out of any group activities for the rest of the day.
“Adrian, do you think I could borrow your Jeep? I can show proof of insurance and gas it up and everything.”
“As much as I’d love to let you have it, it’s not mine.”
“Whose is it?”
Hudson clears his throat, coming up from behind me. “It’s mine.”
His green eyes are warm and inviting in the sunlight, the freckles along his cheekbones more prominent, matching the faint dots that coat the rest of his body.
“I can give you a ride if you want,” he offers, but before I can respond, loud honking rips through the air, as Grant’s green Subaru makes its way down the path.
“Aye,” Grant says through the open driver-side window as he parks in a space right in front of us. Getting out, he shares a half-hug, half-handshake with Derrick. “You ready to go fuck up these rocks, bro?”
“Hundred percent,” Derrick replies, jumping in the air and grabbing one of the beams overhead, hoisting himself up with one arm.
“Get down from there before you break your leg,” Meredith says, exiting the passenger seat. At her request, his feet return to the pavement as he throws a playful arm around her shoulders. “What the bride wants, she gets.”
“Rocks?” I ask Vanessa, confused. “I thought you were wildflower-picking?”
“A few of us are going to go rock climbing at Blackrock Ridge,” Derrick explains, running his hands through his dark hair suggestively. “You should come.”
“You a climber?” Grant asks, showing his first real interest in me since my arrival.
“No. Not at all. Weddings are the only physical exertion I need,” I joke.
“What about you?” Grant nods towards Adrian. “You in?”
“Hard pass, mate,” Adrian says, setting down his book. “Can’t be breaking a bone in these parts. Your American medical rates are astronomical.”
“That means you can come flower-picking with us,” Vanessa says, patting his knee and handing him a pair of shears and gloves from the pile.
The groups begin splitting off—Derrick, Grant, and Jocelyn towards the Subaru for rock climbing, and Vanessa, Adrian, Meredith, and Katherine towards the flower field.
Hudson hangs back, waiting for me. “You ready to go?”
I nod, eagerly, as Katherine doubles back.
“Hey, Mere. Weren’t you just saying that Grant was a bit camera-shy?” she asks, her voice sharp. “Maybe Mira should tag along with them, give them a chance to get to know each other before the big day tomorrow.”
“Oh, that’s a wonderful idea,” Meredith beams. “Mira, what do you think?”
Given that I’ve barely spoken a handful of words to Grant since my arrival, the request makes sense, but my stomach feels queasy.
Phoebe made the same suggestion when she started dating Cliff, but no matter how many times we tried to bond I never warmed up to him.
I put on my best friend hat and faked it.
I laughed at his jokes and asked about his life anytime we were together.
I should have told him to fuck off. That he’d never be good enough for my best friend.
But Grant isn’t Cliff. And Meredith isn’t Phoebe. So I reply through gritted teeth. “That sounds great.”
“Hell yeah,” Derrick says, slinging an arm over my shoulder, the unexpected intrusion into my personal space causing me to bump into Hudson until my back is pressed against his chest. I swear he keeps a protective arm by my side as he moves me out of the way.
“You guys got room for one more?” Hudson asks, and I can’t help but notice the visible shock on Grant’s face.
“You want to come with us?”
“Yeah. It’s a beautiful day, why not.”
“Oh no you don’t,” Katherine says, shoving a bucket into Hudson’s hands. “Meredith needs your botanist skills. I can’t have anyone infect my guests with poison sumac or flesh-eating spores.”
Hudson gives me a sympathetic stare that makes me wish I’d gotten up five minutes earlier, as we head in different directions.