My forehead wrinkled. “I’m lost. What did it bring you?”
Our waiter approached, carrying a tray with our appetizer. He set the dish in the middle of the table and flashed a dazzling smile at Fisher. “Can I get you anything else?”
“Not at the moment. But maybe later?”
The waiter’s eyes sparkled. “You got it.”
After he walked away, Fisher picked up a mozzarella stick and winked at me. “Him. That path brought me him, and I think that’s exactly where I’m supposed to be in a few hours.”
***
On Friday night, I left the office about seven. Signature Scent was shipping without a hitch, and next week the website would go live for orders from the public. Olivia had managed to get me time on some local morning news shows for various segments that featured women in business, and a few magazines had agreed to do interviews with me. Everything I’d dreamed about for so long was coming true, yet I couldn’t find it in me to enjoy it.
This morning I’d broken down and texted Hudson I miss you. I could see he’d read it, but no return message ever came. I was heartbroken. Once, when I was a kid, I’d been jumping waves at the beach and one had hit me hard. It sucked me under, and I’d tumbled around like a ragdoll, losing sight of which way was up. That—that’s how I’d felt this week without speaking to Hudson. I’d had to drag my ass out of bed to come to work.
Now it was the weekend, but for some reason, I wasn’t ready to go home. On the train, I just sort of zoned out as it headed uptown. At one point I happened to look up as we were pulling into a station, and the name of the stop painted on the wall caught my attention as we slowed.
Bryant Park—42nd Street.
I stood. The train was packed, so I pushed my way through a dozen people to get to the doors and step off. The New York Public Library was right around the corner. The last thing I should be doing was sitting on the steps, reminiscing about the night Hudson and I had first danced, yet I couldn’t have stopped myself from going if I’d tried.
It was fall, so the days were getting shorter, and not long after I sat down in the same spot I’d sat in a hundred times before, the sun started to set. The sky lit up in a purpley orange, and I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a minute, trying to let nature’s beauty lift my spirit. When I opened them, my gaze cast down the steps and snagged on a man stopped at the bottom, staring up at me.
I blinked a few times, assuming my imagination was playing tricks on me.
But it wasn’t.
My heart seemed to skip every other beat as Hudson climbed the steps to where I sat.
“Mind if I sit with you?” His face was unreadable.
“No, of course not.”
Hudson settled in next to me on the marble step. His legs spread wide, and he clasped his hands between his knees and stared down for the longest time. It gave me a chance to look at him. Only a week or so had passed since I’d last seen him, yet I could tell he’d lost some weight. His face looked drawn, he had dark circles ringing his eyes, and his skin—normally tan and bright—looked sallow and dull.
So many questions ran through my head. Had he come looking for me? Or had he come to do his own thinking? Was he okay? What had transpired over the last week? Based on Hudson’s face, it looked like things had taken a turn for the worse. But it also seemed like he had something to say, and whatever it was, wasn’t easy. So I fished inside my purse for the Hershey bar and offered it to him.
He smiled sadly. “You look like you could use it as much as I could. Wanna share?”
For the next ten minutes, we sat next to each other in silence on the steps of the New York Public Library—the place he’d gotten married, the place we’d met, the place his parents, whose relationship he revered so much, had also said their vows—and shared a chocolate bar while watching the sunset.
Eventually, he cleared his throat. “You okay?”
“I’ve been better. How about you?”
He smiled sadly. “Same.”
Again we were quiet for long moments.
“I’m sorry I disappeared for a while,” he finally said. “I needed some time to figure things out.”
I shifted and turned to face him, though he continued to stare forward and not look at me while I spoke. “Did you?” I asked. “Figure things out, I mean?”
He shrugged. “As much as I can, I guess.”
I nodded.
Hudson stared out at the sunset while tears pooled in his eyes. He swallowed before he spoke. “Jack admitted it.”