MY MORNING RUN from my home in Kensington Place takes me through Kensington Gardens, past the palace and the Albert Memorial, and along the edge of the Serpentine, the lake that separates the gardens from Hyde Park. It’s a route that never fails to uplift me because, as much as I want to be in the zone, I also love this part of London. The park is alive come rain or shine. The criss-crossing paths cater to dog walkers and mums with pushchairs. The lake teems with ducks and swans and their fluffy offspring, and swathes of cheerful daffodils shelter under the trees.
With my lungs burning and my muscles lax from the exertion, but feeling in no way uplifted—a tall order for the park today—I finish my run and head for my favourite coffee shop. I buy a large latte and an almond croissant I have no appetite for. But purchasing my favourite treat gives me hope that one day I’ll be hungry again. One day, hopefully soon, this crushing pain will fade and I’ll forget that I love Hudson Black.
Only I can’t forget him. I have to talk to him and Sterling tomorrow in a video call. How will I survive seeing his face, his beautiful cognac-brown eyes concealing his pain? Because I know it’s there. It’s so deeply buried he may never overcome it totally. But it’s not my place to offer comfort, to hold him and love him until its grip lessens. He doesn’t want that from me. He wants nothing but our professional relationship.
And I can do that. I won’t let my misplaced feelings jeopardise Bold. I kept it together after Sterling, and I can do the same with Hudson.
I just wanted more...
I round the corner of my street and check my phone for the time. I have thirty minutes to shower before I head to the office after a largely sleepless night. I tug off my ear buds and bound up the steps to my front door, where I almost collide with the man on the top step.
Hudson.
He’s wearing the same suit he wore on his last day in London, his tie stuffed in his breast pocket and his top two shirt buttons undone. He looks as though he slept on a park bench.
I’m so confused I just stand and stare, gaping and dizzy.
‘I thought you’d left for Singapore.’ I brush my hair back from my face, wishing I wasn’t carrying a bag of pastry and a hot takeaway coffee and could tighten my ponytail. I’m hot and sweaty and probably an attractive colour of lobster-red. But who cares? He doesn’t want me. I need to find a way to move on.
‘I did leave,’ he says. ‘Then I came back.’
Hope soars in my chest, squeezing out air. Why? What does it mean? But then I remind myself it’s humanly impossible he feels anything he didn’t feel forty-eight hours ago. He’s still the same man I begged to allow me into his life on the vague chance that he would, one day, reciprocate my feelings.
‘I see.’ I nod and step past him to my front door. I realise my mistake instantly, because I’m so close I can breathe in his scent and see the fatigue around his gorgeous eyes, which are bleak.
I shove the key into the lock, balancing my bag and coffee in one hand.
‘You look beautiful.’ The catch in his voice slices through my heart. ‘It’s so good to see you.’
Agony pulses along every nerve. ‘Don’t,’ I snap.
I don’t want his platitudes or compliments. I want what he can’t give me. I won’t compromise, no matter how tempting. I shove at my front door and step inside, turning on the threshold to face him.
‘I’m late for work. I’m going to have a shower.’ I pull the door half closed behind me, filling the space with my body as a barrier. The last time he came through this door, I barely made two paces before I succumbed to my need for him. Allowing him inside now would be like ripping off my body armour, my last line of physical defence.
Correctly reading my reluctance, he steps back. ‘Can I see you after work? Please... I want to apologise.’
He’s so devastatingly handsome, even in slept-in clothes. I want to cry and cave and drag him inside and forget about work and my pride and the heartbreaking things he said. Most of all I want to forget that he threw my love back in my face.
But the memories are alive in the jagged tears in my heart, throbbing with every beat.
‘I’ll check my schedule when I get to the office and let you know a convenient time.’ This is what he wanted. What he begged me to promise him. That Bold would be safe. That nothing would change in his life. I don’t want his apology, but he’s my business partner. Even if I wanted to, I can’t ignore him or never see him again. And that amplifies my pain. There’s no escape.
He nods and backs down the steps towards the pavement.
‘Hudson,’ I call before I shut the door. ‘Get some sleep.’
Behind my closed front door my heart gallops and my hand on the knob burns to fling it open and chase him down the street.
I abandon my coffee, then shower and dress in a trance. I make it to work only three minutes late for my meeting. The day passes in a blur. It’s as though I’ve been drugged. Everything is fuzzy and distant, as if I’m existing under water. Three times I pick up my phone to message him a meeting time and place. Three times I chicken out. I have nothing more to say, and I’m not ready to hear his justifications and explanations.
I’m lost in thought as my driver drops me outside my home later that night. But, when I climb from the back of the car and bid him goodnight, Hudson is exactly where he stood this morning. He’s changed into jeans and a T-shirt but he still looks broken and haunted.
I feel as if we’ve been apart for weeks, not hours.
‘I know you don’t want to see me, and that’s fine,’ he says. ‘I just don’t want the sun to set on another day where I’ve let you down.’
I’m too tired to fight it, so this time, I invite him in. Fighting tears, I toss my coat and bag aside and head for the kitchen at the back of the house on my wobbly legs. My wine fridge is well-stocked. I retrieve an ice-cold bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and pour two generous glasses, not bothering to ask him what he wants. I carry our glasses out through the conservatory to the garden like a robot. The crackle of electricity buzzing over my skin tells me he’s following.
I leave his glass on the table and sit on a garden chair. I take a hefty swallow, looking out at the pretty garden I created to remind me of the one Mum had nurtured and tended at Comberton.
‘I couldn’t face you, to be honest,’ I say. My stomach tumbles until nausea forces me to abandon my wine. ‘I knew we’d have to see each other again. Despite what you said, I care about Bold, and have every intention of getting things back to professional—I just hoped I’d have a few days to adjust.’
Hudson shifts in my peripheral vision.
‘The things I said were unforgivable.’ His voice is rough with emotion. ‘I didn’t mean them.’
I look up and his eyes latch to mine in the dusk.
‘It’s no excuse but I was reeling from your declaration.’ He steps closer, his face taut with pain. ‘No one’s ever said it before.’
I frown, my heart in my throat. ‘Said what?’
There’s so much anguish in his eyes I want to go to him more than I can stand. I dig my nails into the arms of the chair.
He looks to the garden where the roses bloom before tall sentry-like delphiniums. ‘That they love me. Not that I remember, anyway.’
My hand flies to my mouth. Tears sting the backs of my eyes. I can’t believe that’s true, but it must be. He was two when his mother gave him up. Maybe Wendy hadn’t said it. And he’s never allowed anyone close enough to get attached.
My pulse thunders in my head. Would I have said those momentous words if I’d known? Oh, I’d still have felt it, but I might have chosen my moment more carefully rather than just blurting it out and expecting him to know what to do with my overwhelming confession.
‘I’m sorry.’ I swallow back the burn in my throat and fight the urge to go to him. ‘I wouldn’t have said it if I’d known.’
He steps towards me then, his face twisted with agony as he drops to his knee in front of me. ‘It’s a wonderful thing to hear. Don’t regret it.’ His voice cracks. ‘Tell me, how do I change?’
My heart breaks open, disintegrating into a million pieces. I don’t want him to change. I don’t want him to hurt. I just want him to want me in return.
‘Don’t.’ I reach out, cup his cheek and feel the day’s worth of stubble under my fingertips. ‘You don’t need to change.’
He places his hand over mine and holds it to his face. ‘But I want things. You’ve made me want things I have no idea how to want. I can’t stop. I can’t leave you.’
I hold my breath, my head swimming. ‘What things?’ It’s all too much, but this has been a desperate whirlwind from the start.
‘You.’
A tear falls then. It’s exactly what I want to hear. Only, how can I trust it? I know he means it—he’s not a liar. But, where back in my office two days ago it all seemed so easy, us being together now seems insurmountable.
Still, my own feelings compel me to help him. ‘It’s like going on a roller coaster—you embrace the fear and do it anyway. You know the high is coming and, if you survive, it will be worth every horrific second because you’ve let love in.’
He presses a kiss to the centre of my palm. ‘Sounds terrifying. Tell me more.’
I shrug, my resolve wobbling. I love him so much that I fear my strength, my conviction, won’t be enough. Not for the two of us.
‘You’ve opened your heart before. When you let Sterling and me into your world. When you reached out to Wendy and Bill. When you founded Blackhearts. Every time you moved on to a new home, a new school, as a boy, you found the strength. You didn’t give up, you survived, you flourished.’
He grips both of my hands, his earnest expression slaying me. ‘Is it too late? Because I want more with you like I’ve never wanted anything else in my life—not Bold or my billions or even my next breath.’
I shake my head, my vision blurring. ‘No. It’s not too late.’ My pulse beats in the tips of my fingers. Can he feel it?
‘Sterling asked me a question,’ he whispers, his thumbs rubbing back and forth over my wrists. ‘He said if I only had one more day to live, would I want to wake up alone, or with you.’ He looks up and my heart stops altogether. ‘I’d choose you. Only, I want to wake up with you every day from now on.’
I cup his cheeks and lean forward, pressing my mouth to his. I collapse into his hard chest. His arms band around me and almost squeeze the air from my lungs.
I pull back, happy tears spilling free. ‘You don’t have to promise me anything. I want us to be real. I need to live in the moment, not jump several steps ahead, as I’ve done in the past. I still want a family, but I know I don’t need it to feel whole.’
He nods and stands, tugging me to my feet. He squeezes both of my hands, his stare so full of everything I want to see that I sway on my feet.
‘I promise you I want to be with you, every day.’ He cups my face in his warm hands. ‘I want to go sightseeing with you, and have picnics in the park, and dance with you while your underwear is in my pocket.’
I laugh. Cry. Kiss him.
‘I’ll stay in London,’ he says.
‘I’ll move to Tokyo,’ I blurt, laughing as he pulls me in for another kiss.
I tug him inside and lead him down the hall. When we reach the bottom of the stairs, he scoops me up in his arms and carries me up to the bedroom.
We strip and touch and kiss and sigh. Hudson lays me down on the bed and traces his mouth over every inch of my body, as if re-learning every contour, every sensitive place. Desperate for him, I drag his mouth to mine, but he pulls back.
‘I do love you, Dove.’ His eyes burn.
I shake my head, too choked to speak. I don’t want him to say it until he means it absolutely.
He presses his fingers to my lips, then drops soft kisses all over my face as he talks. ‘I’ve always been half in love with you all these years. I just didn’t want to label it. And this week... How could I not fall completely? You’re the better part of me. You make me whole. You make me want things, all of the things.’
Tears seep into my hair at my temples and he kisses those too. ‘I’ve got a long way to go, a lot of relationship stuff to learn—but don’t for one minute think I don’t love you as much as you said you love me.’ He presses my fingertips to his mouth, kissing each one.
I shudder, sigh, surrender to the feelings that need no labels. They’re just there.
‘Just remember who said it first.’ I laugh and drag his mouth back down to my kiss.
And then he loves me with his body.