“Sure.” I have my mother’s shading. Same olive skin, same gray eyes and five million hues of brown in our hair. I got her height too. But unlike her, I have hips and an ass like a double bass. Dad says his sister had the same chicken drumstick thighs as I do. He doesn’t mean anything by it, but it still makes me wish I had thighs like my mom.
“He’s so handsome now,” she continues.
“I guess so.” I search through the pile of clothes on the bed, pretending I don’t understand the subtle hint. Hudson’s gorgeous. Built like a mythical half god. I’m not dating, not blind, nor dead. I can appreciate what I saw last night. But then he was always a good-looking guy.
And clearly, he’s still a terrible flirt. We’re friends. We were great friends once. Maybe we’ll get to have that again. But that’s all. My mother won’t ever get her wish of having Hudson Kelly as a son. If he’s anything like he was in college he’s not built for monogamy or anything serious.
“You should ask him,” she suggests.
“Mom.” I gasp. There’s no way.
“I bet you he’d say yes,” she continues. “He’s your best friend. He would do anything for you.”
“Maybe once that would have been the case, but we haven’t seen each other in six years. Things change.” I shut my eyes and take a deep breath. She’s only trying to help. Both my parents are only trying to help. It’s why I’m almost thirty and living in my parents’ house. It’s why when the shit hit the fan they flew to London to pack up my life and bring me back to Chicago where I could recuperate from my broken heart. And ovarian surgery. But this is going too far. “I’m not going to ask him for his sperm, Mom. I can’t.”
“He’d want to help,” she insists. “He’s always been there for you.”
“Not like that.” I yank a black sleeveless tank out of the drawer in my armoire and over my head. The boy I knew would say yes to anything I asked of him. Unless it defied physics or gravity or some other important rule that made whatever I asked impossible. I can’t recall a single time he said no to me actually.
And I have the feeling the Hud I reconnected with last night is a bigger, manlier version of that boy. If I asked him for help having a baby he would say yes. Without thinking through every complication that could come with it. He’d do it for me, simply because I asked him.
It’s tempting. I want a baby so badly, and he would make such pretty babies. But it would be awkward, possibly for the rest of our lives. It would get complicated. Hell, even messy, depending on how Hudson felt about being a dad. Would our friendship even make it through a situation like that?
I can’t bear to think it wouldn’t though. “Don’t bring it up, okay. Don’t hint at it. I’m not going to ask him. And I don’t want him to know about my problems, either.”
She narrows her gaze on me. “Honey, don’t you think it would be nice to have someone in your corner?”
“Not Hudson. It’s too much to put on him after so long.” My eyes flare as I shake my head and mimic zipping my lip. “We’re not talking about it.”
“Fine.” She sighs. “Are you going to be down soon?”
“Um.” I pull a loose gray sweater over my cropped jeans. “I’ll be right down.”
“Seriously?” My father laughs as we make our way down the stairs. He’s talking to Hudson in the foyer. Probably about some book they’ve both read.
Hudson notices us first. He glances up over my father’s head. He has a good six inches on my dad. His blue eyes catch mine and widen.
My heart thumps against my ribs. Last night it was dark. The bar was dimly lit. The alley even more so. Right now he’s taking me in and realizing the woman he was friends with when we were in college has been eaten, along with a ton of burgers and donuts, by me.
He claps my dad on the shoulder, steps around him to the base of the stairs. His blue eyes shine as bright as his megawatt smile and he covers his left pectoral muscle with his hand. “Damn girl, when did you get so fine?”
Okay, I know I have no self-confidence. That’s what happens when you get fat, have part of your reproductive system removed, and your fiancé cheats on you with a woman who is so tiny she can cover all the important parts with a pair of witchy, red bottom heels. I’ve mostly come to grips with my issues at this point and I’ll find my confidence again. But he doesn’t need to make fun of me.
Mom, bless her, jumps between us. She’s been so protective of me since I came home. “I hope you brought your appetite. I cooked all your favorites, Hudson.”
He searches my face before moving his attention to my mother while he rubs a circle on his perfectly flat stomach. “Mrs. M., how did I get so lucky to have a woman as lovely and talented as you are in my life? You spoil me.”
“Of course I do.” Mom blushes and pats his cheek. “You’re practically family. And as family I feel entitled to tell you it’s been entirely too long since you graced us with your presence.”
My dad guffaws and cuffs Hudson on the back as mom heads to the kitchen. He gives me a pointed look. One that says he too thinks I should ask Hudson for a turkey baster full of his best tadpoles. “I’ll give your mother a hand.”
I glare at my father’s retreating back. I have a plan and it involves living with my parents while I wait for the house in London to sell and save up the money for fertility hormones and insemination. It does not involve gracelessly dragging my best friend into my problems. Even if it might make my dreams come true.
“Jane, is something wrong?” Hudson stares at me with confusion in his eyes. He’s always been the guy with the best jokes. Sarcasm on point. He could make anyone laugh. Anywhere. Any time. It’s a gift.
But I’m different now. My skin isn’t as thick as it should be. I have no clue where our friendship stands let alone how to be the butt of his jokes.
“You don’t need to make fun of me, that’s all.” I try to soften my words by patting his bicep. It’s a huge wad of concrete, the bronze flesh marred with black ink. My hand appears so dainty in comparison. I find myself parched. “I know I’ve changed. A lot.”
“That wasn’t...” His bushy gold eyebrows pull together. “I wasn’t—”
“Let’s go into breakfast.” I leave him standing at the base of the staircase.
Chapter Four
Hudson
I watch her follow her parents across the foyer. Her long wavy hair swings against her back. Her hips sway in those cute jeans. She was always the most beautiful girl as far as I was concerned.
I still remember the day Lily and I moved in next door. She was sitting in the window seat in her room while I carried cardboard boxes filled with my belongings up to my new bedroom. On the first trip I noticed the cute girl in glasses and an oversized sweater, reading a book. On the second trip, I tried to make friends by blow fishing the glass until condensation clouds formed on the icy windows so I could draw pictures with my finger.
She tugged on the end of her high ponytail and fought her smile, and I had the insane urge to catch her full attention. And then we’d discovered how much we had in common. Music. Books. Running. Classes. She was my biggest support and fan when it came to my writing. I was her cheerleader and sometimes model when it came to her photography.