Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
This is perfect, the universe ensuring balance.
We’re drifting off to sleep later when I think of something and smile.
“Hudson?”
He hums to let me know he’s listening.
“Your mom’s going to be so happy.”
Epilogue to the Epilogue
Scarlett
Just as Kendra predicted, Makayla and Ramona leave Elwood Hoyt at the end of spring, and the entire office breathes a sigh of relief. The first day without them, I treat myself to a little celebratory cookie during lunch. Without Kendra and her minions, the tight-knit group of first-years disbands fairly quickly.
Two weeks ago, I got a small package in the mail at work. I tore into it and shook the contents out onto my desk to reveal an oversized puka shell statement necklace decorated with gemstones (yikes) alongside a postcard that at first looked to be handwritten, but upon closer inspection came hot off the Vistaprint press.
Heyyyy! I’m loving Bali. Sent you a little something. When you get a chance, snap a photo of you wearing this necklace and post it to your socials alongside the hashtag—
Oh good lord. I threw the postcard away before I could finish reading it, but I saved the necklace for Annabelle. She’ll love it.
Today is July 28th, a relatively unimportant Friday. It’s going the way most summer Fridays have gone. Rather than staying in the office until 7:00 or 8:00 p.m., Hudson and I clock out at 6:00, our new normal.
He swings by my office to collect me, stopping in the doorway, watching me as I put the finishing touches on my last email of the day.
“It’s 5:59,” he taunts.
“I’m almost done! Don’t distract me.”
He doesn’t say another word, but it doesn’t matter. He’s a walking distraction. I look over the top of my computer to see him fighting back a smile.
“One more second.”
“I could go get the car…”
“No!”
I like when we leave together. Occasionally, when we’re in the elevator alone, we can behave badly. We’ve had some full-on make-out sessions on our way to the ground floor. If there are cameras…I shudder to think of what the security guards have seen.
“There!”
I hit send and close my laptop with a triumphant slap. My work bag and phone, my jacket and notebook—everything gets snatched up as quickly as possible as I make my way to the door. I stop just a hair’s breadth too close to Hudson, tip my head back, and meet his gaze. If we were at home, I’d kiss him. As it is, in the office, we have to abide by our rules (namely: no PDA). His attention slips down to my lips, and I can tell from the wicked gleam in his eyes that he’s contemplating breaking our rules.
I press my hand to his chest, rise up onto my toes, and very nearly kiss him before I smile like a minx and push him out the door.
“Come on, come on. We’re going to be late.”
We’re going to my parents’ house for dinner, but this is no casual meal. This is not our standard Friday night.
Hudson is getting his promotion. Tonight, he will officially become a senior partner at Elwood Hoyt.
I only know because my dad let it slip the other day. “The board is finalizing the contract, don’t get your hopes up” was the excuse he gave me at the time, but I got my hopes up immediately.
It’s been incredibly difficult to keep the secret. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, hounding my father, even pestering my mom for details. Her response: “Scarlett, how would I know if Hudson is getting a promotion? Your dad doesn’t tell me any of that stuff. Now stop calling me at work.”
I’ve had to suffer right along with Hudson, only he didn’t know he was supposed to be an impatient mess like me. He’s been living life as usual.
When my dad suggested we all come over for dinner on Friday and casually mentioned he’d invited Hudson’s family and Lucy to join us, I knew it was finally happening. Last night, I was thinking about the moment—Hudson’s dream coming true, fireworks, cannons, confetti—and I was feeling wistful and proud. I was supposed to be concentrating on the Dateline episode we were watching. Hudson made a comment about the plot, “I can’t believe that’s actually his son,” and I replied in a lifeless tone, “That’s crazy.”
Then he reached for the remote and paused the show. “That’s not his son. That’s the chief of police. I knew you weren’t paying attention.” He furrowed his brows. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I pointed to the TV. “Rewind it a bit. I zoned out.”
“No, you’ve been weird all day.”
I laughed as my cheeks reddened. Then, alarmed at how easily I was starting to crack under pressure, I sat up and tried to get the remote from him. He held it aloft over his head. “It’s nothing. Hudson. Give me the remote.”