Chapter 39
“Where are we going?” Hudson leads me through the wildflower fields, the grass brushing against my legs as we make our way deeper into the property.
When he asked if I wanted to leave the reception I thought we’d go for a drive, or hole up in our cabin, but we kept walking past everything until the sounds from the party became whispers in the wind.
“It’s a surprise,” he assures me, while I relish the quiet. There’s nothing out here but the sounds of nature, the crickets chirping, and the croaking of frogs from the pond. It’s the same tranquility I felt at the lake, as if there is no one else in the world but the two of us.
“Please tell me you didn’t plan an orgy with the adventure guides, because I’m going to have to pass,” I joke, trying to discern where we’re headed.
“That’s not a surprise, that would be the makings of a horror film,” he says, as we climb further up the hill.
The sky is an explosion of reds and oranges, like fire shooting up from behind the dark blue mountains, as the last rays of sun crest over the golden mountaintops.
It’s the first night I’ve been able to appreciate the sunset, to see it not as the end of another horrible day, but as the opportunity for new beginnings, a chance to start over—and with Hudson by my side that thought doesn’t feel as scary.
We climb the last stretch of elevation until the ground levels out and I realize what he’s done.
LED lanterns light a pathway towards a tent that’s been covered in fairy lights, the same variety from the wedding. Beside it a campfire is roaring. There is also a table set with a bottle of champagne and all the ingredients for s’mores.
“You said that camping would only be fun if there were s’mores and stargazing so . . .” Hudson says, leading me down the path. Peeking inside the tent, I can see it’s outfitted with a blowup mattress, a plethora of pillows, and a crochet blanket.
“When did you have time to do all this?” I ask.
“I may have had some help,” he replies, grabbing the bottle of champagne from the plastic bucket filled with ice.
“Make sure to thank Vanessa for me,” I say, as he pops the cork on the bottle. Foam gushes over his hands and I take the bottle, saving him from himself. “You really can’t pour a drink for shit.” I shake excess champagne off my fingers before taking a sip.
“Thankfully I have other skills,” he counters, moving his hand to my face and bringing my mouth to his.
He tastes like champagne and vanilla frosting as I soften against him.
In my life I’ve truly never had much security.
I always thought that I needed to be better, to be someone different, to change, but the way Hudson stares at me, the green of his eyes darker beneath the night sky, I know that he’d never ask me to be anyone other than myself.
It was easy to allow myself to believe that love is a myth—that it, like many social constructs, is just a product of the wedding industry, that it’s a fairy tale awarded to few.
But as warmth spreads through my chest, down my body, I understand that I just never felt it before, real love, true love, the kind that keeps people together for forty years.
Because love isn’t just passion or lust, it isn’t an all-consuming, can’t-eat, can’t-think proposition; it’s problem-solving, listening, and understanding.
It’s everything that Hudson’s done for me and more.
Not only this week but ever since the first time I saw him in that bar.
He’s been taking care of me, in subtle ways that I hadn’t realized I needed until now.
“What are you thinking about?” Hudson asks, moving a stray curl behind my ear.
I nod, allowing his steady arms to hold me in place, and I can feel the words I need to say slide to the tip of my tongue.
“That I love you too.”