Chapter 43

HUDSON

Iflipped through the channels. I didn't know what I was looking for, but I hadn't found it. I wasn't really interested in anything. I was thinking about how I managed to screw up the one good thing I managed to get in my life. I spent the last ten years fucking up everything. I finally found something worth staying sober for and I screwed it up. I couldn't figure out why I was so self-destructive.

A part of me wanted to just pick up the phone, call Diana, and say I was sorry. But another part of me, the part that had spent years in the icy grip of self-loathing and regret, doubted whether she would even want to hear from me.

I tossed the remote onto the coffee table and pushed myself off the couch, pacing the room and thinking about what I should do. The echoes of our last conversation clung to me.

I wanted a drink.

But I didn't want to drown my sorrow. I wanted to dissect it, understand it. The bottle of whiskey sat on the kitchen counter, whispering promises of oblivion. I stared at it for a minute before turning away. Those whispers were just lies. I knew that now. If I crawled into the bottle again, I was right back to square one. I had to get out of this rut I found myself in.

Instead, I walked over to the window and stared out into the quiet night. The small town was peaceful, and under any other circumstances, it would have been a comfort. But tonight, it just felt empty. This house was too damn big. It was like being in an echo chamber with my own thoughts.

Diana was right about me. I did have demons and I couldn't seem to be able to make them go away. Unlike when I was a kid, I couldn't just turn on the light and crawl into bed with one of my brothers.

The knock on the door startled me. I wasn't expecting any visitors. When I opened the door, it was to find Diana looking uncertain but determined.

"Hi," I said, surprised but glad to see her. "Come in."

I stepped aside to let her enter, closing the door behind her as she made her way into the living room. I could feel the tension in the air between us, a reminder of the unresolved issues that had lingered between us since our argument.

"Can I get you something to drink?" I asked, trying to break the ice as I headed for the kitchen.

"Tea, if you have it," Diana replied, her voice soft but steady. I noticed her notice the bottle of whiskey.

"It's still sealed," I said.

"I didn't ask."

"But you wanted to," I said.

I pulled out the electric tea kettle that was part of the rental property. I wasn't a tea drinker, but thankfully, that was also left behind. Diana settled onto the sofa while I made the tea. As the tea steeped, I took a moment to gather my thoughts, unsure of what to say or how to broach the subject that had brought her here. She might be officially dumping me. That bottle of whiskey was going to be my best friend if that was where this conversation was going.

Finally, I returned to the living room, setting a steaming cup of green tea on the coffee table in front of her before taking a seat opposite her.

"So, how have you been?" I asked, trying to keep my voice light despite the heaviness of the conversation that hung between us.

It was a stupid question. It had been less than a day since I saw her, but it felt like forever.

Diana sighed, her gaze dropping to her tea as she stirred it absentmindedly with a spoon. "I've been doing a lot of thinking," she said.

I nodded, sensing this was exactly what I thought it was. She was dumping me. She was probably going to ask me to leave town.

"About us?" I ventured softly.

She looked up at me then, her eyes searching mine for a long moment before she spoke. "Yes, about us," she said quietly.

I felt a surge of panic welling up within me. I tried to brace myself. I didn't want to show any reaction. If she told me she didn't want to see me again, I would let it roll off my shoulders. I wasn't going to let myself get pissed. Or hurt.

Just let it go.

"I needed time to think," she explained, her words coming out in a rush. "And I wish I had expressed myself better when we were on the plane. I've spent my entire life trying to live up to someone else's expectations, and I know that's made me a bit challenged when it comes to being objective."

I listened quietly as she spoke, feeling a pang of empathy for her as she opened up about her struggles. I had always admired her strength and independence, but now, as she bared her soul to me, I realized just how much she had been through. I thought about what Jessie said.

"Everything I see is through my dad's eyes," she continued, her frown deepening. "I wish I could be stronger and trust my heart, but it's hard when my head has been programmed for so long to think a certain way. I've always believed and accepted everything my father has told me. I've never had a reason to doubt him. I guess I've chosen not to ever think another way. Until now. I'm sorry I assumed the worst. I let my thoughts get in the way."

"Thank you, Diana," I said softly. "I appreciate your apology. And I want you to know that I'm sorry too."

She looked up at me with confusion. "Sorry? For what?"

I sighed. "For overreacting," I admitted. "I should have tried to understand you better instead of shutting down. I wish I had handled myself differently. I freaked out because I'm defensive of what I believe is the truth."

"What do you mean?"

"It's my own insecurities." I sighed. "I try to hide them, and when someone sees right through my fa?ade, it panics me. I come out swinging."

Diana smiled, a soft, genuine smile that lit up her face and warmed my heart. "It's okay, Hudson," she said gently. "We both could have handled things better. But I'm glad we're talking now."

"Me too. I've been sitting here thinking about how I could talk to you."

"What do you mean?" she asked. "Of course you can talk to me."

"I thought, well, I just assumed you were done with me." I shrugged. "I thought you woke up and realized I'm not good enough for you."

Diana shook her head, her smile fading slightly. "No, Hudson," she said. "It's not about you being good enough or not. It's about reconciling my feelings with the reality I've been brought up in. And if anything, our argument on the plane made me realize something crucial."

"Which is?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper as I braced myself for her words.

"That I need to start thinking for myself," she said.

I nodded, not sure what to say to that.

"It's nice to sit and talk like this," Diana said suddenly, breaking the silence that had settled over us. "I wasn't sure how this would go, but I missed you after we parted ways. Those two weeks we spent together, day in and day out, were the best two weeks of my life. I guess I got used to being with you. I loved waking up with you every morning. It wasn't just about everywhere we got to go and what we got to see. It was definitely the company."

"It was the best two weeks of my life too," I said finally, my voice filled with sincerity. "I missed you too, Diana. I've been sitting here wondering what to do and say."

"We kind of made a mess of things." She smiled.

"Is it fixable?" I asked.

"I'm just worried, Hudson," Diana said. "I don't want to invest more deeply in you if your time in Cold Springs is going to be cut short. And if your plans are still to go back to Manhattan and what your life used to be…" Her voice trailed off, leaving the rest of the sentence hanging in the air between us, unspoken but understood. She was worried about us, about our future together. About me falling back into my old ways.

"I understand, Diana," I said softly. "And I want you to know that I'm not going back to how things used to be. Not now that I've met you."

She looked up at me, surprise evident in her eyes. "What do you mean?" she asked.

I took a deep breath. "I mean that meeting you has changed everything for me, Diana," I admitted. "You've shown me a different way of life, one filled with joy and laughter that has nothing to do with getting wasted. I can't go back to how things were before, not now that I've experienced what it's like to be with you."

"What about Manhattan? I can't do this with you, Hudson. I'm not the type to have a fling with someone and then never see them again. I know that's not normal but it's me."

"I don't plan on going back right away," I said. "I don't know what I'm going to do. I reserved the house for another month. I can stay a bit longer."

Diana paused, her expression softening, "You would do that?"

"Yes," I said, taking hold of her hand. "I want to be with you, Diana. And if that means staying here, then I'm willing to do it."

She looked down at our intertwined hands and then back up at me. "And what about after that month? What then?"

"I don't know," I confessed. "But I do know that no matter what happens next, I want you in my life."

Her eyes filled with something that resembled relief, and she gave a small nod. "Okay," she whispered.

"Okay?" I asked.

"Yes, okay," she confirmed, her voice firm now. "We'll figure it out, Hudson. Together."

"Did you eat?" I asked her. "I actually have food in this house."

She chuckled. "I could eat something."

"I should have probably clarified what food I have," I joked as I got to my feet. "Scrambled eggs, toast, a sandwich?"

"A sandwich sounds good," she said and followed me into the kitchen.

Diana leaned against the center island while I went to the refrigerator and started pulling out deli meats, cheese, and condiments.

"So, Hudson," she began with a slow smile.

"Yes?"

"Have you ever had to make your own sandwich before?"

"I have made sandwiches before," I said with a grin. "Now, ham or turkey or both?"

"How about both?" Diana replied with a playful glint in her eyes. As I started assembling the sandwiches, we fell into an easy conversation, discussing our trip and places she still wanted to visit. The tension that had lingered between us seemed to dissipate with each passing moment, replaced by the same sense of comfort and familiarity that we had on our trip.

I took a bite of my sandwich. Diana picked up the bottle of whiskey. "Were you planning to open this?" she asked.

"I thought about it, hair of the dog and all of that," I said.

"But you changed your mind?"

"I think it's a twisted game I play with myself," I said as I took another bite.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean every time I reach for that bottle, it's like I'm reaching for a piece of my old life. A life filled with reckless decisions and temporary thrills. But being here with you, in this moment, it's like I have a chance at something real. Something lasting."

Diana set the bottle back on the counter and turned toward me, her expression soft and understanding. "I get it, Hudson. And I'm glad you're choosing this moment over the past."

I reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't want you to worry about me and that bottle. I'm good."