Page 87 of Bridesmaid By Chance
“Yeah, I’m sure he’ll be better soon,” I say while the bags start flowing down the carousel, our driver looking out for our luggage.
“I’m serious about the dance lessons,” Devin says. “I don’t mind helping you out. We might even end up being partners in the dancing at the wedding, so it could help to practice with you.”
“Oh, uh, thanks,” I say as I glance over to the bathrooms.
I know what Stacey and Melva would tell me to do in this situation. They’d say take him up on his offer. Make Hudson eat his words, turning me down over and over.
But for the life of me, I can’t fathom doing that to Hudson.
Not after I read those texts and not after the state I saw him in.
He’d lose his mind.
Not to mention, he’d probably be sad, and let me tell you, when he’s sad, it does something to my heart. Like a rusty fork, stabbing me over and over again. I can’t take it.
The bottom line is: I do like Hudson. Yes, he can be brusque and, to quote him, an asshole. But I do know he’s a man of substance and honor. Devin was…well, he was fun when we spent time together. And even though it wasn’t that long ago, I honestly can’t imagine fooling around with him again now. Not since I’ve met Hudson.
Not since I married Hudson and committed my time and loyalty to him.
“Thank you for offering to help me with the dances, but I think I’d like to learn the dances with my husband,” I answer.
“I get it.” Devin nudges me with his elbow. “Looking to add some romance to your marriage?”
“Yeah,” I say absentmindedly as I stare at the bathroom, waiting for Hudson to return.
“Should be a fun time, though. Are you excited about the wedding?”
“I am,” I say.
“How do you even know Sheridan?”
“Uh…huh, you know. I don’t.”
“What do you mean you don’t?” Devin asks.
“I’m just a filler for her.”
“What do you mean a filler?”
“One of her bridesmaids broke her leg, and she needed someone to fill in, and Hudson is an investor in a company called Bridesmaid for Hire. I was available, and the rest is history.”
“Oh, wow. I had no idea you were doing that kind of work.”
“I’m not. I actually work for Hudson’s company,” I say. “But I guess I was in the right place at the right time.”
Finally, Hudson appears from the men’s room, and he’s looking rough.
Like really rough.
“Excuse me,” I say and take off toward him as he walks incredibly slowly toward the baggage claim.
When I reach him, I put my arm around him and whisper, “Are you okay?”
“Not even a little,” he says.
“Okay, uh, why don’t you take a seat on this bench, and I’ll tell the driver that we’re going to wait here for him?”
“Okay,” he answers as if he’s in pain. He takes a seat on the bench, and I go back to the driver, letting him know where we will be.
