Page 57 of Bridesmaid By Chance
“So I’ve noticed,” he says.
“So why don’t you indulge your wife and answer her question? Are you a fan of me?”
“Jesus, Sloane.”
I stop, causing him to stop and turn toward me. “I’m being serious, Hudson.”
He tugs on his neck and says, “If I wasn’t a fan of you, do you think I would have married you?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I was pretty convenient.”
“With a whole lot of baggage if certain people were to find out about us. I wouldn’t risk everything over someone I wasn’t a fan of.”
Well, when he puts it like that…
*Coyly tucks hair behind ear*
“That might be the nicest thing you’ve said to me since we got married.”
His expression falls. “That’s sad.”
“Says the guy who can’t give a compliment to his wife. You want to take this seriously, but at any chance of me getting close to you, you back away.”
“I’m not backing away,” he groans. “Just…drawing a line.”
“Not a fan of the line.”
He walks up to me, takes my hand in his, and then leans in. “The line won’t change.”
Then, continuing to hold my hand, we walk down the sidewalk, him not saying another word while I contemplate if this was a small win for me or not.
I mean, he’s holding my hand; I’m going to call it a win.
“I need to find out what kind of laundry detergent you’re using on your clothes.” I sniff his shirt that I’m wearing. “God, it smells so good.”
He sets his phone down on his charger and turns out the light.
I settle on my pillow and turn toward him. “Want to play rapid-fire questions?”
“I want to go to bed,” he says.
“Okay, Grandpa,” I tease. “It’s just past nine. You can spare a few questions.”
“Go to bed, Sloane.”
I’m met with the normal grumpy answer. It’s the same thing over and over again, but he hasn’t worn me down yet. It’s a battle of wills, and I want to be the one who wins.
“Hey,” I say, poking him in the chest.
His eyes open and they fixate on me. “What?”
“How was your day?”
“Fine,” he answers.
“Want to ask me how mine was?”
His jaw grows tight as he says, “How was your day?”
