“She was. I still miss her,” she whispers.
I hug her to me, and as she drifts to sleep, I decide once and for all that I’ll tell her the day after her company dinner. If I tell her before then, and she reacts as badly as my mother and sister think she will, she’s going to hate that dress. It’ll ruin her wearing it that night, and I don’t want to take that away from her. I promise myself that no matter how crazy it gets with the playoffs starting, I will tell her. I’ll do like my mother said. I’ll take her to the rink, put skates on her feet, a stick in her hands, and show her one of the most important parts of me. The plan is already in place. I just have to wait to make it happen.
~
“Sorry, Hudson. She’s always late. I should have told her to be here an hour beforehand and she would have made it here on time,” Ellie says apologetically.
Tonight is the dinner with her best friend, Lacey, and we’ve been waiting thirty minutes already at Ellie’s kitchen table. She seems a little nervous, but so am I. My leg is bouncing furiously at the chance that Lacey will recognize me.
“It’s fine,” I tell her. Maybe she will cancel and I can spend the evening alone with Ellie.
Just then, Ellie’s front door opens and a girl walks in. “Alright, I know I’m late, don’t start. I’m ready to meet Prince Charm-holy shit!”
Recognition is all over her face. Holy shit is right.
“Lacey, don’t be rude,” Ellie chides.
I stand, swallow hard, and hope like hell she doesn’t say anything. With my hand outstretched, I say, “Hi, I’m Hudson. It’s nice to meet you, Lacey.”
Her mouth is hanging open. Slowly, her hand lifts and grips mine, squeezing tightly. “Um, yeah, Mr. Architect, nice to meet you.” She lets go of my hand and turns. “Ellie, it’s such a nice day, why don’t we eat on the back porch? Hudson, do you mind helping me get the dessert? I left it in my car.”
“Of course.” I follow her outside, but as soon as we’re out of earshot, she swivels to face me.
“Are kidding me? You’re no damn architect. You’re Hudson King from the Portland Vikings! What the hell are you doing?” Lacey is furious, her hand gesturing as she talks.
“I know it looks bad, please don’t say anything to her. I’m going to tell her,” I plead as she stalks to her car, opens the door, and then turns back to face me.
“That’s my best friend, and in case you haven’t noticed, she’s an amazing person. I’m not gonna stand here and watch you break her heart. I don’t care who you are.” She gives me a death glare. “Why are lying to her anyway?”
I sigh. “Long story short, I was thrilled that she didn’t know who I was at first. I was a normal guy to her. Every time I’ve tried telling her, she either interrupts me or says something about how she doesn’t like sports. I tried telling her the other day, but someone,” I point my own glare at her, “convinced her that my secret was that I am married.”
“Okay, my mistake thinking you were married,” she puts her hands up, like she’s surrendering, “but look at it from my point of view. You were gone all the time, and no architect travels that much. How the hell was I supposed to know you were traveling because you’re in the middle of playoff season?”
“Just please don’t tell her. I’m going to tell her soon. Please,” I beg.
“You tell her soon or so help me God. I will break your knees with your damn hockey stick. Ellie is nothing but pure gold. No one has ever betrayed her. If you haven’t noticed, she has lived a sheltered life and is just now truly coming out of her shell.” She shakes her head and mumbles, “I can’t believe the f
irst guy that is supposed to care for her is a damn liar.”
“Is everything okay?” Ellie asks from the front porch.
“Yeah,” Lacey calls back. “Turns out I forgot the dessert. Sorry, Ellie.” She slams her door with another angry look at me.
We head back inside, and I can’t get Lacey’s words out of my head. Nothing she said is news to me, but the dread rises within me. She’s right. I’ve betrayed Ellie, and it’s going to kill her when she finds out. Sitting on the back porch, Ellie gives me a worried look, so I gently squeeze her hand and smile to let her know that things are fine.
“You know, Hudson, when I told Lacey about you, she recognized your name. She must have seen your work before.”
“Oh yeah?” I glance at Lacey. Here comes the test.
“I must have been thinking of a different Hudson King,” Lacey shrugs, like it doesn’t matter anymore. “I think there’s a figure skater from Nova Scotia that has the same name.” She wears a small smile.
I have to resist glaring at her as Ellie laughs. I want to say that I’m not a figure skater, I’m a hockey player, but that’s not happening.
Ellie looks at me with her head tilted. “I can’t picture you in clothes like that.”
“Oh, I can picture him in a uniform,” Lacey adds.
Just kill me now. To get conversation away from this deadly line she insists to walk on, I ask Lacey about how she met Ellie.