: Chapter 32
The Invitation
Almost a week had passed, and I still hadnât seen Hudson. Though I supposed he was more entitled to disappear than Iâd been when I was avoiding him.
I suspected heâd told his sister something, as Olivia had never once mentioned his name. The last of the Signature Scent samples came in, the artwork weâd shot in California for the boxes had been approved, and today, Thursday, the warehouse had started shipping the orders that had come in from the Home Shopping Channel. It was a monumental day; the dream Iâd had for years had come true. Yet I wanted nothing more than to go home and climb into bed.
But Fisher wouldnât let the occasion go uncelebrated no matter how many times I told him I wasnât in the mood. So I wound up meeting him for dinner after I left the warehouse. He was already seated in a booth when I arrived, an ice bucket set up next to the table.
I slid into the seat across from him.
âAlright, now I know things are bad. I just watched you come in. The hostess has a giant vase of flowers on her podium, and you didnât even try to smell them.â
I attempted to smile. âIt doesnât feel like I should be smelling the flowers today.â
âThatâs where youâre wrong. Today is precisely the day you should be stopping to smell the flowers, my Stella Bella. You put your heart into this business, and today your first orders started shipping.â He lifted the bottle out of the ice bucket and filled an empty glass in front of me before filling his own. âI even sprung for the good stuff.â
While he of course meant well, seeing the gold label on the bottle of champagneâthe label that had been on the bubbly weâd swiped from Oliviaâs wedding months agoâjust felt like coming full circle. And the circle was now closed. Hudson and I had started and ended with these bottles. A heavy feeling settled in my chest.
Fisher lifted his glass in a toast. âTo my smarty pants girl. You worked through the rain for years and finally got your rainbow.â
I smiled. âThank you, Fisher.â
The waiter came and took our orders. I wasnât in the mood to eat, but I felt like I had to give it my best effort because Fisher was trying so hard.
âSo I guess you havenât heard from Hudson?â
I sighed as my shoulders wilted. âHe hasnât been in the office. I get business emails sometimes, but those always come really early in the morningâlike four AM. Heâs still working, but from home, and heâs not speaking to me on a personal level.â
Fisher sipped his champagne. âSo you donât even know if heâs confronted his ex-wife? Told her he knows about the diary and everything in it?â
I shook my head. âHe took the book when he left, but I have no idea what heâs done with it or who heâs spoken to.â
âHe canât hold this against you forever. None of it is your fault.â
âIâm not even sure he believes me that itâs a coincidence I had the book.â
âHow could it not be a coincidence?â
âThink about it. I just happened to show up at his sisterâs weddingâa woman Iâd never met beforeâafter reading his ex-wifeâs diary?â
âBut you didnât know it was his ex-wife.â
I shrugged. âI knowâ¦but it seems awfully convenient.â
âSo what does he think? You stalked him or something? You read his ex-wifeâs diary, somehow figured out who he is, and set out to make him fall in love with you? Thatâs one boiling bunny short of a Glenn Close movie.â
I shook my head. âI donât know what he thinks.â
âWell, you want to know what I think?â
âDo I have a choice?â
âOf course not, silly girl.â Fisher reached across the table, took my hand, and squeezed. âI donât think any of the things that happened are coincidence. I think life is a series of stepping stones that branch out in all different directions. We have no idea what path weâre supposed to follow, so we tend to walk a straight line and follow the biggest stones, because thatâs the easiest thing to do. Coincidences are the smaller stones that lead you on a path that veers off. If youâre brave enough, you follow those stones, and you wind up exactly where youâre supposed to be.â
I smiled sadly. âThatâs beautiful. When did you become so enlightened?â
âAbout ten minutes ago when I was seated at this table and the waiter walked over. The hostess had asked me if I wanted a high table or a booth. I said a high table, but she walked me over to this booth anyway. I could have told her it wasnât what Iâd requested, but instead, I followed one of the little stones down a new path and look what it brought me.â
My forehead wrinkled. âIâm lost. What did it bring you?â
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. âCan I get you anything else?â
âNot at the moment. But maybe later?â
The waiterâs eyes sparkled. âYou got it.â
After he walked away, Fisher picked up a mozzarella stick and winked at me. âHim. That path brought me him, and I think thatâs exactly where Iâm supposed to be in a few hours.â
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 Iâd dreamed about for so long was coming true, yet I couldnât find it in me to enjoy it.
This morning Iâd broken down and texted Hudson I miss you. I could see heâd read it, but no return message ever came. I was heartbroken. Once, when I was a kid, Iâd been jumping waves at the beach and one had hit me hard. It sucked me under, and Iâd tumbled around like a ragdoll, losing sight of which way was up. Thatâthatâs how Iâd felt this week without speaking to Hudson. Iâd had to drag my ass out of bed to come to work.
Now it was the weekend, but for some reason, I wasnât 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 Parkâ42nd 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 couldnât have stopped myself from going if Iâd tried.
It was fall, so the days were getting shorter, and not long after I sat down in the same spot Iâd 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 natureâs 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 wasnât.
My heart seemed to skip every other beat as Hudson climbed the steps to where I sat.
âMind if I sit with you?â His face was unreadable.
âNo, of course not.â
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 Iâd last seen him, yet I could tell heâd lost some weight. His face looked drawn, he had dark circles ringing his eyes, and his skinânormally tan and brightâlooked 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 Hudsonâs 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, wasnât easy. So I fished inside my purse for the Hershey bar and offered it to him.
He smiled sadly. âYou look like you could use it as much as I could. Wanna share?â
For the next ten minutes, we sat next to each other in silence on the steps of the New York Public Libraryâthe place heâd gotten married, the place weâd met, the place his parents, whose relationship he revered so much, had also said their vowsâand shared a chocolate bar while watching the sunset.
Eventually, he cleared his throat. âYou okay?â
âIâve been better. How about you?â
He smiled sadly. âSame.â
Again we were quiet for long moments.
âIâm sorry I disappeared for a while,â he finally said. âI needed some time to figure things out.â
I shifted and turned to face him, though he continued to stare forward and not look at me while I spoke. âDid you?â I asked. âFigure things out, I mean?â
He shrugged. âAs much as I can, I guess.â
I nodded.
Hudson stared out at the sunset while tears pooled in his eyes. He swallowed before he spoke. âJack admitted it.â
My heart ached. I had no idea what we were to each other anymore, but that didnât stop me from offering compassion. I clasped my hand with his and held it tight. âIâm sorry, Hudson. Iâm so, so sorry.â
âI decided not to speak to Lexi about it.â
Wow. I wouldâve thought that was the first place heâd go. âOkayâ¦â
âThe only thing letting her know would accomplish is giving me the satisfaction of screaming at her. It wouldnât do me any good, nor Charlie. My head isnât screwed on straight enough to deal with things. As far as Iâm concerned, Lexi is the enemy, and itâs never a good idea to let the enemy know your plans. I need to know exactly where I stand, and if need be, what my rights are, before dealing with her.â Hudson swallowed again. His voice was hoarse when he continued. âCharlie is my daughter. Thatâs not going to change ifâ¦ifâ¦â He couldnât even say the words.
Tears filled my eyes. âYouâre absolutely right. And youâre an amazing fatherâan amazing man for putting Charlieâs feelings first at a time when it wouldâve been really easy to be irrational.â
âI did get our DNA tested, though. I swabbed her cheek while she was sleeping and dropped it off at the lab yesterday, along with a sample of my own. I donât really want to know the results, but I feel like it would be irresponsible not to. God forbid something happens and she needs blood or something.â He paused, and this time he failed at holding back his emotions. His voice broke. âIâll know in about a week.â
He hadnât given me any indication that things between us were okay. But that didnât matter. Hudson was a broken man, and I couldnât just sit here and watch him fall apart. I wrapped my arms around him. âIâm sorry. Iâm so sorry youâre going through this, Hudson.â
His shoulders shook as I held him. He made no sound, but I knew he was crying because I felt the wetness on my neck where his face was buried. I thought he might feel better if he got it outâcrying is a physical release of pain. But I also knew the type of man Hudson was. He would keep some of it in to torture himselfâbecause deep down, he probably felt like it was partly his fault. He would blame himself for working too much and not giving his wife enough attention, or not bringing home flowers for no reason. It was misplaced guilt, of course, but he was such an honorable man, I was certain he wouldnât see it that way.
Eventually, Hudson pulled back. He looked straight into my eyes for the first time. âIâm sorry I needed some time apart.â
I shook my head. âThereâs no reason to be sorry. I understand. I hid from you for a while there as well. Just please know I never meant to keep any of it from you. I truly didnât make the connection until that night at your apartment. And thenâ¦I didnât know how to tell you. I didnât want to.â
âI know that now. It was just a lot of coincidences to take in at once. I needed some time to absorb everything, and then to realize none of this was a coincidence at all.â
I pulled back. âWhat do you mean?â
Hudson pushed a lock of hair from my face. âWhy are you here right now?â
âYou mean at the library?â
He nodded.
âI donât know.â I shook my head. âI was on my way home from work on the train, and I looked up and saw this stop. Something just compelled me to get off.â
âYou know why Iâm here?â
âWhy?â
âI was also on the train, but heading uptown to your apartment. I glanced up for a half second, and through the sea of people packed into the subway car during rush hour, I saw you getting off at Bryant Park. My train had stopped on the track directly across from yours. I tried to get off, but we started moving before I could make it. So I got off at the next stop and ran all the way back here.â
My eyes widened. âYou just happened to look up and see me getting off a train that I just happened to randomly get off when it wasnât even my stop?â
âIf I wasnât sure what was going on before, I am now.â He cupped my cheeks and met my gaze. âNone of this is a coincidence, sweetheart. Itâs the universe conspiring for us to be together. It has been from the very startâbefore we even met.â
Tears rushed to my eyes all over again. The hollowness Iâd felt in my chest over the last week began to fill with hope. I thought about how much weâd both been hurtâHudson, of course, far worse than me. That damn diary had been at the root of it all, but he was right. It was more than just a series of coincidences. Thereâd been a higher power working for us all along.
I smiled and leaned in to brush my nose against his. âYou know, I think we should probably give in. We donât stand a chance if the whole world is conspiring.â
âSweetheart, I didnât stand a chance from the moment I looked at you.â