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Emma: The beach house sold. Should be closing in thirty days.

I read Emma’s message as the elevator lifts me to my floor. Having just left Emma at the inland house not even thirty minutes ago, I’m assuming she must have just found out.

Me: Seriously. That’s amazing. How much did it sell for?

The elevator doors slide open as I hit send. Stepping out, I let out a small sigh, a little sad to know someone else will be living in the house I’ve fantasized about buying for months – knowing I could never ever afford it.

Emma: That’s the amazing part. It sold for one point six million.

Me: Holy shit.

Stopping in front of my door, I try to mentally calculate how much of that will be mine.

Unlocking the door and pushing my way inside, I drop my keys on the breakfast bar and freeze when I spot Hudson standing at the dining room table I rarely ever use. The round glass surface is set for two. A bottle of wine, bread, and what appears to be pasta sit in the middle, illuminated by two tall candlesticks burning in the center.

“What’s this?” I ask, looking from the table back to Hudson.

“Dinner.” He grins.

“You cooked?” I raise an eyebrow at him.

“I did.” He pulls out a chair and gestures for me to join him.

“You didn’t have to do this.” Kicking off my shoes, I take a seat as Hudson takes the seat next to me.

“I know. I wanted to.” He unfolds his napkin and sets it in his lap. “I hope you like chicken parmesan.”

“One of my favorites.”

“Confession. I knew that already. I may have texted your sister,” he admits, his dimple pulling my gaze to his cheek.

“Oh lord. You probably made her day.” I roll my eyes and laugh.

“I wanted to make you something I knew you’d enjoy. It just so happens my mother taught me how to make homemade pasta.”

“You made this yourself?” I look down at the perfectly round noodles.

“Well, I had to go to the store and buy a pasta maker, but yes, I did.”

“You bought a pasta maker?” I chuckle.

“It’s the easiest way to roll out pasta.” He shrugs, picking up his fork before spinning it into his noodles and shoveling a bite into his mouth seconds later.

I shake my head, not able to wipe the smile off my face as I twist noodles onto my fork before sliding them into my mouth.

“This is amazing,” I tell him around my mouthful, practically moaning around the bite. “Did you make the sauce too?” I ask after I’ve swallowed and washed it down with a drink of Moscato.

“From scratch.” He nods.

“My god. Remind me to let you cook from now on.”

“I don’t know. You’re pretty good in the kitchen too.”

“Not this good.” I point my fork down at my plate.

“I’m glad you like it.” He takes a drink of wine. “So how was work?”

“It was work.” I shrug. “I love the house we’re working on but I’m not as excited about it as I was the beach house. Then again, I don’t think I’ve ever been as excited about any project as I was the beach house.”

“It’s a pretty fantastic house,” he agrees, giving me a knowing look.

A vision of me pressed up against the glass window while he pounded into me from behind flashes through my mind and instantly my face heats.

“It sold today,” I tell him, grabbing a piece of bread from the middle of the table and tearing off a bite before popping it into my mouth. “Emma texted me just a few minutes ago.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“For my bank account, yes. But I really loved that house. I’m sad to see it go.”

“I get that. Probably comes with the job.”

“It’s definitely not the first house I’ve wished I could buy for myself, but it’s the one I wanted the most. I’m sure it won’t be the last though.” I take another long drink of wine. “What about you? How was your day?” I change topics.

“Pretty good. I went to the store, ran a couple errands, caught up with Jerry, and did a Skype interview with an online music broadcast.”

“You did all that and still managed to make all this?” I question.

“This week has felt like a vacation in comparison to the last few months. I forgot how nice it is to just exist and not be stretched so thin I feel like I might snap in half.” He chuckles. “Speaking of, I’m going to have to head back to Nashville next week to take care of a few things.”

“Okay.” I try not to let the disappointment I feel show on my face.

It’s been a week since everything went down with Gage, and while things are almost back to normal, there’s still an uncertainty with us that wasn’t there before. Having him here the last few days has really helped to silence some of the doubts that continue to creep in. I’m worried how I’ll feel once he’s gone, but I know he can’t stay here forever.

“I shouldn’t be gone more than a few days. I was thinking I would head out Sunday after lunch and be back by Friday.”

“You’re planning on going to Sunday lunch again?” I ask.

“Of course I am. This is part of your life and they’re your family. I want to submerse myself into your world as much as I can.”

“Is that so?” I question, smiling at him like a damn idiot.

“You have a problem with that?”

“Not at all.”

“Besides, I think it’s about time I meet this Nana of yours.” His smile widens.

“Oh lord.” I laugh. “She’s likely to grope you under the table.”

“Noted. Don’t sit next to Nana.”

We spend the remainder of dinner talking about everything from our childhoods to some of the things we’d like to do before Hudson leaves on tour. By the end of our meal I feel more relaxed than I have in days and I have no idea why. Maybe it’s the wine or the amazing meal Hudson made, or maybe it’s that I’m finally letting go of everything that happened last week.

After some persuading on my part, Hudson took a glass of wine with him to the balcony while I cleaned up. He was adamant that he should be the one to do the dishes, but I explained to him that in the Claire household one cooks and one cleans. Since he cooked, it was my job to clean up. He wasn’t happy about it but he let me have my way.

Tearing off a piece of paper towel, I dry my hands before tossing it into the trash can. After refilling my third glass of wine, I make my way through the open balcony door. Hudson’s kicked back in one of the chairs, his feet propped up on the railing.

His gaze comes to me as I approach, a lazy smile pulling up the sides of his mouth.

“Hey.” I pull up a chair next to him before taking a seat.

“Hey.” He stretches, reaching behind him to retrieve his wine from the table. “You get everything squared away?”

“All clean.” I sip my wine, my gaze on the gulf as I relax back into my seat.

“I’m going to Nashville to clear out my apartment,” he says out of the blue.

“You are?” I question, having not heard him even mention anything of the sort before now.

“Makes sense. No reason for me to pay for an apartment when I’m going to be on the road for eight months and any time I have off I plan to spend here with you.”

“I see.” I nod, turning to face him as I do. “What will you do with all your stuff?”

“Probably stick most of it in storage.” He shrugs, tipping his wine glass to his lips.

“You could store it here,” I offer without thinking it through. Truth is, I like the thought of having parts of him here with me even when he’s not. “I don’t have room for furniture but there’s a spare room you could put whatever you have in.”

“The apartment I’m leasing is furnished so all I really have are odds and ends, clothes, a couple guitars.”

“Well there you go.”

“You sure you don’t mind?”

“Are you kidding?” I give him a look that says he should know better. “You already said so yourself. When you have time off you’ll be here. Makes sense that your stuff be here too.”

“Okay then.” He smiles and goose bumps erupt across my skin.

“Okay.” I return his smile.

“Did we just agree to live together?” he questions after a long moment of silence.

“I think we kind of did.” I chuckle, having not really looked at it that way. “Are you sure you want to give up Nashville? I know how much you love it there.”

“Nashville has nothing on this.” He gestures out to the beach. “Or on you.” He turns his gaze back to me. “I don’t care where I am as long as you’re there with me.”

“I feel the same.”

“So you and me...we’re doing this?” He reaches over and takes my hand, entwining his fingers with mine.

“Looks like it.” I nod, feeling overwhelmed by how quickly this all seems to be happening but having no desire to slow it down either.