Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

Whitney

Savory steam rose when I lifted the cover off the slow cooker, but heat already suffused my cheeks as memories of the previous evening's celebration flooded my mind. Hudson and I had skipped the festivities at Scrimmage's and opted to celebrate…privately. And what a celebration it was. Hudson had been especially attentive and—I dared to hope—affectionate. Could his heart have been involved, like mine was?

I stirred a slurry of flour and water into the broth of the beef stew to thicken it. Tender morsels of beef and cubes of vegetables and potatoes swam in the fragrant gravy. Crusty rolls warmed in the oven, and bowls of homemade organic applesauce from the local farmers' market waited on the table.

The door lock beeped as I replaced the lid on the slow cooker. Hudson walked in and held the door while Gramps shuffled inside. Gramps lifted his head and sniffed. "Something smells good," he said as a greeting.

"I hope you like beef stew." I rounded the kitchen island and gently hugged Gramps's frail shoulders. He harrumphed , but leaned into my touch. I grinned at the grump with the marshmallow heart.

Hudson helped Gramps out of his light jacket and hung it on a hook by the door. Gramps wandered into the living room, his head swiveling. "Doesn't look much different in here." He shambled toward the bedroom and flipped on the light switch.

I turned toward Hudson and raised my eyebrows. He smirked and mouthed, Told you . I covered a chuckle with a cough.

"Finally." His voice became muffled as he moved deeper into the room and into the bathroom. "Here's some of Whitney's things." He emerged from the primary bedroom and headed toward the second bedroom.

I took his arm. "Come see my office."

His bushy eyebrows raised. "Office?"

"Where I write." I turned on the overhead light and stepped into the room. "Ta-da!" Smiling, I opened my arms wide, my chest filled with pride.

Gramps frowned and turned in a circle. "Where will you put the baby?"

My smile dropped, and my arms fell to my sides. "Baby?" My heart longed for children, but Hudson and I wouldn't be having any in our fake marriage.

Hudson entered the room, chuckling nervously. "I think you're getting ahead of yourself, Gramps. We just got married."

Gramps thumped his cane. "I'm not getting any younger."

Hudson sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "If it makes you any happier, we're going to buy a house when my lease is up. "

My eyes flew wide. We were? But I knew better than to question Hudson in front of Gramps.

"Well, why didn't you say so? That solves that problem." Gramps patted Hudson on the arm, skirted around him, and left the room.

I hustled to Hudson's side, panic seizing my gut. "I can't afford to buy a house. I'm not even paying you half of the rent," I whispered.

He cupped my shoulders and kissed my forehead. "I'll buy it. It was my plan all along, with or without you. I just hadn't brought it up yet."

I gazed into his brown eyes and found the truth in their warm depths. I nodded. "Okay. When I find someone to sublease my apartment, I'll pay?—"

"You'll pay nothing." He shook his head. "I'll get the house in the divorce, and you can save your money for…" He clenched his jaw. "Your move to Virginia."

My stomach roiled at the reminder that I'd be leaving him. "But?—"

He held up a hand. "Let's rejoin Gramps before he sticks his nose further into our business." His lips twitched.

"Oh crap. Let's go see what he's doing."

I hurried into the living room and came to an abrupt halt, my mouth dropping open. Hudson collided with my back, jostling me forward.

Gramps sat on the couch, and my shy, ornery cat purred in his lap while Gramps awkwardly stroked his fur. "Who's this fella?"

"That's…that's Mr. Darcy. But he's never taken to a stranger before. Not even Hudson in the beginning. Not until he bribed him with treats."

"Well, then." The cat's rumbling filled the room as his tail swished contentedly. "We're two peas in a pod, because I don't like strangers either." He humphed . "We grumps have to stick together. Don't we, Mr. Darcy?"

I popped my hands on my hips. "I think that Mr. Darcy sitting in your lap proves you're not a grump."

Gramps only hummed and continued to pet the spoiled-rotten cat. I pulled out my phone. As I kneeled down to snap a pic of the unlikely pair, my head swam and my legs wobbled.

"Whoa." Hudson rushed to my side and steadied me as I fought a wave of trembling. "Let's get some food and medicine into you. Sit down, and I'll serve dinner."

"I can do it."

"You've done enough. I'll take it from here." He gently led me to the table and pulled out a chair. Retracing his steps, he removed Mr. Darcy from Gramps's lap and settled Gramps at the table.

Hudson brought me a glass of ice water and the bottle of my prescription medicine. With a trembling hand, I dumped out a tablet and gulped it down.

Gramps frowned. "You okay, missy?"

I didn't want to worry Gramps. "I'm fine. It's just a little problem I have. I'll be good as new in a few minutes."

"Eat your applesauce, Whitney," Hudson ordered.

I nodded at Gramps. "Dive in." The spoon shook in my hand, and I nearly spilled the fruit, but I swallowed a few spoonsful. The trembling slowly drained from my body as the food and medicine took effect. I breathed out a sigh of relief.

"I'm worried about you," Hudson whispered in my ear as he placed a steaming bowl of stew in front of me. "This has happened twice now. Should you call your doctor?"

"I'm okay. But I'll make an appointment since you're concerned." I kept my voice low.

He kissed my temple. "Thank you. "

Gramps couldn't hear what we were saying, but he watched our intimate interaction eagerly, with a twinkle in his eye. We made him happy, and we didn't even have to lie to do it.

Hudson served the rest of the food, and Gramps spooned stew into his mouth. I held my breath, because it was a low salt recipe. I'd added a few herbs and spices for extra flavor.

He hummed his approval. "Reminds me of your grandmother's stew, Hudson."

"Mm-hmm," Hudson murmured around a mouthful.

I sighed with relief and stirred my dinner to cool it.

"Do you have relatives in the area, Whitney? Are they happy you married my boy?" Gramps buttered a roll.

My heart clenched at the reminder of my parents. "My grandmother lives on a farm in Virginia."

Gramps's gaze cut to mine, his focus sharp. But he didn't pry any further, and I was grateful. Talking about losing my parents still opened a raw wound.

"Well," he grumbled. "You've got us as your family now." He dropped his gaze and concentrated on his applesauce, as if embarrassed by the sentimental admission.

I studied his weathered face, with its deep wrinkles and rough patches, his hands gnarled from arthritis, and his shoulders stooped with the weight of a long life. At eighty-seven years old, each beat of his heart was a struggle.

In that moment, I couldn't help but wonder how much time we had left as a family. How many more moments like this would we get to share before divorce took its toll on our marriage?