A Mother Would Know (17)

“Not a dozen.” Hudson shakes his head. “But a lot.”

Kendra laughs.

“A dozen churros? That’s nasty, man.” Theo wrinkles his nose in disgust.

I often wonder if he was ever a child, or if he was born an adult.

“Nasty? Have you never had a churro? They’re delicious,” Hudson counters.

“They’re good, but not dozen a day good,” Kendra says.

“Wasn’t that also the trip where you tossed my Mickey Mouse ears out of the car window on our drive home?” Hudson asks his sister.

“Only ’cause you kept hitting me in the head with them.”

Hudson laughs. “Oh. Right. Well, I’m sure you deserved it.”

At this, Theo laughs, too.

“Is that girl waving at us?” Kendra sits forward, squinting.

I scoot forward, too, looking in that direction. A pretty young woman is jogging, white earbud cords hanging from her ears. She slows her pace, waving up at the porch.

“I don’t know her,” Kendra adds. “Do you?” I think she means me, but it’s Theo who answers.

“Oh, yeah. Molly, hi.” Theo moves down the front steps.

The young woman tugs the cords from her ears and stops running. She saunters forward to meet Theo, walking up the first few steps.

“I didn’t know you lived around here,” Theo says.

“Yeah, I rent a place right around the corner. Can’t miss it. It’s the smallest one on the street and has a giant flag sticker on the mailbox,” she says. I can picture it. I pass by it every morning on my walk with Bowie. The woman points upward. “Is this your house?”

“No, my mother-in-law’s.” He indicates me and then says, “Molly and I work together. Molly, this is my beautiful wife, Kendra, my son, Mason, my mother-in-law, Valerie, and brother-in-law, Hudson.”

Kendra’s hello is a little lackluster, not that I blame her. I never liked it when I met gorgeous women who worked with Darren. I can’t help but notice Hudson’s smile has grown infinitely larger now that Molly’s here.

After she returns to her jog, Hudson slaps Theo on the back. “Man, she is hot.”

“Nice.” Kendra rolls her eyes.

“Dude, hook me up,” Hudson adds.

“Really?” Theo raises his brows, then shrugs. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”





7





“Mom? Mom?” Hudson’s voice is echoey as if he’s speaking in a large, empty cathedral, the words bouncing back in an eternal loop.

It’s warm and bright here—not a cathedral, I think dreamily, but a big, empty stage, blazing under the wash of the spotlights. I hate to leave it, but his words keep yanking at me.

“Mom.” This time his tone is more insistent.

I jolt at a firm hand on my shoulder. Reality comes into view, light floating in through the window and painting the floor.

“Are you okay?” Hudson’s teeth look like they’re about to pierce his bottom lip. His pinched eyes and gathered forehead make him appear much older than he is.

“What time is it?” I ask groggily, hoisting myself up to a seated position. Squinting, I peer out the living room window, at the sun high in the sky.

“Three-thirty,” Hudson answers.

“In the afternoon?” On the table in front of me is a half-drunk cup of coffee, an empty glass.

“Yeah. I had my first day at the mine today, and I just got home.”

Oh, that’s right. He’d already been gone when I woke up this morning.

I’m wearing my walking clothes, shoes still on my feet. Have I been lying here since my walk? Pinching the bridge of my nose, I desperately search for the day I’ve clearly lost.

Theo’s face materializes in my mind, and I’m momentarily confused as to why. But then I remember: he stopped by yesterday evening. I’d been surprised by his arrival and for a few panicky seconds thought I’d forgotten about watching Mason again.

But then he’d said, “I’m taking Hudson out. Guy’s night, you know?”

I did vaguely recall them making plans for Sunday night on Friday when everyone was over.

Theo called up the stairs for Hudson, checked his wristwatch, pulled out his phone. When Hudson swaggered into the room wearing cologne, a wrinkle-free shirt, his nicest pair of jeans, his hair styled, I briefly wondered if this outing had anything to do with the pretty blonde girl Theo had introduced us to.

The rest of the night is a bit of a blur. I think I had a glass or two of wine, and watched some TV. The Crown, maybe?

But what about today?

Leaning forward, I finger the mug on the table. A few sips of coffee are left at the bottom, the scent of vanilla cream still lingering. With my shoes still on, my toes feel a little sweaty in my socks.

But what did I do after I went for my walk and had coffee?

I return my attention to Hudson, who has now given up his post hunched over me and is perched on the other end of the couch. His wary expression has yet to vanish, though.

“How was your first day?” I ask, feeling bad that I haven’t yet.

“Good.”

“You weren’t too tired after your guy’s night?”

He shakes his head. “We didn’t stay out too late. We both had work this morning.”