Hudson.
“Hudson?”
In the main space of the loft, everything was neat as a pin. And entirely empty of another human being.
He walked into the kitchen, instinctively looking for a note. It was stuck to the fridge with a Mystery Machine magnet, a full notebook page in clean lines of printing.
Will,
I’m sorry I had to leave so early. I have something urgent to take care of. I wish my business didn’t interfere with the lovely time I’ve had with you. I wish many things, not the least of which is for you to have a wonderful holiday with your family. I hope you can forgive me.
Fondly,
Hudson
Will read the letter twice. Beneath his note there were instructions for preparing dinner, from warming the appetizers to heating dinner. Will felt his stomach and heart contracting somewhere between “that’s sweet” and “is that it?”.
He so wanted to be optimistic, but it felt like goodbye.
~ * ~ * ~
Will showered and changed into his suit, avoiding too much time primping in the mirror. It made him think of Hudson – as did the entire apartment. It sort of killed any enthusiasm he had for the day.
He arranged pastries on a try, put the coffee pot on. Watched the clock and toyed with his manuscript.
Gut check and jump.
Gut check and jump.
Will typed out the email to Michelle before he could chicken out.
Changing the ending. Will be another Sheriff Black book. Negotiate please? Book in your box by New Year’s. Love you!
And pressed send before fleeing the scene of the crime.
He wandered around the apartment, hands in his pockets. Almost ten. He replayed the entire two days with Hudson, probably the best two days he’d ever spent with another human being.
And it was ridiculous to let it go like this.
The man came to New York a few times a year and Will would be flying over to France for the wedding. Why not keep this going a little bit longer?
Gut check and jump.
Will dug through his kitchen counter until he found his phone. There were six missed text messages and he frowned as scrolled down. Four from Veronica, one from his mother and one from Michelle.
Veronica’s were his first priority, notching up his concern with each one.
Bad.
Very Bad.
Awful.
WE’LL BE THERE AT NOON.
His mother’s said, Assholes.
“Oh God,” he said. Will rubbed his forehead. He opened his wallet next, to find the business card Hudson had given him.
It took a minute.
But he nutted up and dialed his cell number.
Will was mid-whistle when the message came on. This number has been disconnected.
“Can I have suite 425?” Will asked the operator at the Cassas. He drummed his fingers on the counter, moving his phone from ear to ear.
“That suite is empty sir. The guest has already checked out.”
Will hung up the phone.
Gut check and fall on your face.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
When the doorbell rang, Will had an irrational hope that it was Hudson, standing there with a pile of bags because he needed to buy more groceries but closer to putting his hand on the knob, he just knew.
Will opened the door.
Veronica was crying and being supported by their father, with Nancy bringing up the rear.
“You better have liquor,” Nancy muttered as Tom guided Veronica to the couch.
She kissed him on the cheek as she passed.
“Merry Christmas?”
Tom shook his head.
A lesser man might have appreciated the distraction of being so thoroughly ditched but Will sat on the coffee table in front of his crying sister and held her hands.
“Tell me.”
“They met us at the airport,” Veronica whispered, wiping her eyes on her pulled down sweater cuffs. “Walked into the first class lounge, took us aside and told Roan if he got on that plane he was disowned. Disowned!”
“Who says something like that?” Nancy muttered. Will could hear the clanging of bottles and glasses – the bar Hudson had set up on a tray table.
“So – he didn’t get on the plane?” Will’s heart broke.
“He told me to go ahead, that he was going to try
“Hudson?”
In the main space of the loft, everything was neat as a pin. And entirely empty of another human being.
He walked into the kitchen, instinctively looking for a note. It was stuck to the fridge with a Mystery Machine magnet, a full notebook page in clean lines of printing.
Will,
I’m sorry I had to leave so early. I have something urgent to take care of. I wish my business didn’t interfere with the lovely time I’ve had with you. I wish many things, not the least of which is for you to have a wonderful holiday with your family. I hope you can forgive me.
Fondly,
Hudson
Will read the letter twice. Beneath his note there were instructions for preparing dinner, from warming the appetizers to heating dinner. Will felt his stomach and heart contracting somewhere between “that’s sweet” and “is that it?”.
He so wanted to be optimistic, but it felt like goodbye.
~ * ~ * ~
Will showered and changed into his suit, avoiding too much time primping in the mirror. It made him think of Hudson – as did the entire apartment. It sort of killed any enthusiasm he had for the day.
He arranged pastries on a try, put the coffee pot on. Watched the clock and toyed with his manuscript.
Gut check and jump.
Gut check and jump.
Will typed out the email to Michelle before he could chicken out.
Changing the ending. Will be another Sheriff Black book. Negotiate please? Book in your box by New Year’s. Love you!
And pressed send before fleeing the scene of the crime.
He wandered around the apartment, hands in his pockets. Almost ten. He replayed the entire two days with Hudson, probably the best two days he’d ever spent with another human being.
And it was ridiculous to let it go like this.
The man came to New York a few times a year and Will would be flying over to France for the wedding. Why not keep this going a little bit longer?
Gut check and jump.
Will dug through his kitchen counter until he found his phone. There were six missed text messages and he frowned as scrolled down. Four from Veronica, one from his mother and one from Michelle.
Veronica’s were his first priority, notching up his concern with each one.
Bad.
Very Bad.
Awful.
WE’LL BE THERE AT NOON.
His mother’s said, Assholes.
“Oh God,” he said. Will rubbed his forehead. He opened his wallet next, to find the business card Hudson had given him.
It took a minute.
But he nutted up and dialed his cell number.
Will was mid-whistle when the message came on. This number has been disconnected.
“Can I have suite 425?” Will asked the operator at the Cassas. He drummed his fingers on the counter, moving his phone from ear to ear.
“That suite is empty sir. The guest has already checked out.”
Will hung up the phone.
Gut check and fall on your face.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
When the doorbell rang, Will had an irrational hope that it was Hudson, standing there with a pile of bags because he needed to buy more groceries but closer to putting his hand on the knob, he just knew.
Will opened the door.
Veronica was crying and being supported by their father, with Nancy bringing up the rear.
“You better have liquor,” Nancy muttered as Tom guided Veronica to the couch.
She kissed him on the cheek as she passed.
“Merry Christmas?”
Tom shook his head.
A lesser man might have appreciated the distraction of being so thoroughly ditched but Will sat on the coffee table in front of his crying sister and held her hands.
“Tell me.”
“They met us at the airport,” Veronica whispered, wiping her eyes on her pulled down sweater cuffs. “Walked into the first class lounge, took us aside and told Roan if he got on that plane he was disowned. Disowned!”
“Who says something like that?” Nancy muttered. Will could hear the clanging of bottles and glasses – the bar Hudson had set up on a tray table.
“So – he didn’t get on the plane?” Will’s heart broke.
“He told me to go ahead, that he was going to try
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