There's a knock at the door and I startle. It might be one of the neighbors. Maybe they heard me yelling and are checking to make sure everything is okay. "Saved by the knock," I mutter under my breath. I open the door, putting a mental wall up to make sure I can deflect any well-meaning attempts to make sure we're not murdering each other in here.
But it's not a neighbor. It's Hudson.
Hudson is here. He's standing in a bright blue button-down that makes his eyes stand out even more by contrast, and he's holding what might be the biggest bouquet of roses that I've ever seen. I don't realize that my jaw has dropped open until I try to speak. "What are you doing here?" I'm absurdly glad to see him. Even after everything I told him about not being ready, his face is the most comforting thing in the world right now.
"I wanted to prove to you that I want more than what we have right now. That I don't care who you are outside the club." He says that last part very quietly. "But I heard yelling. Are you all right?"
I push the roses aside and wrap my arms around him. He's surprised, but he hugs me back. "I'm so glad you're here right now."
"Are you all right?" he asks again.
"My mother and my sister are here," I say softly. "I haven't told you anything about my family, but to say that we don't get along might be an understatement."
Hudson smiles. "I'd still like to meet them."
"It's your funeral," I say as I step back and take his hand to pull him into the house.
Catherine is standing in the hallway, gaping. I don't know how to introduce Hudson. We've never really defined the terms. ‘Boyfriend' feels too simple, and yet if I introduce him as my ‘lover,' my mother will have even more of a fit. But Hudson takes care of it for me. He reaches out and shakes Catherine's hand. "I'm Hudson Carlisle. It's nice to meet you."
My mother steps out of the kitchen, and the height difference is comical. She's even shorter than me. "And you must be Mrs. Everett."
"I am," she says coldly. "Who are you?" Even though he's just introduced himself.
He gives her a dazzling smile. "I'm dating your daughter."
Catherine gives me a look. "I knew it."
My mother is still frowning. "It's nice to meet you, Hudson. Unfortunately, you've come at a bad time. We were just having a serious discussion with Christine about her future, so I think it's best if you come back another time."
"Mama," I say. "This is my house. You can't ask people to leave. Hudson, I don't want you going anywhere."
"Yes, ma'am." He winks at me, but I can see the worry in his eyes, the disapproval at the way they're treating me.
"Anything you were going to say to me, you can say in front of him."
She sniffs, offended. The only thing worse than her daughter having such a terrible life would be discussing our ‘dirty laundry' in front of strangers. "No, thank you."
"Well, in that case," I say, "you guys should probably get going. If you leave now, you'll get home in time for a late dinner. Hudson, their bags are in the guest room, will you help with them?"
"Of course." He sets the roses on the table in the kitchen and sets off into the house as if he's been here a million times and knows exactly where the guest room is.
Mom's face is bright red. "You're kicking us out?"
"I'm shortening your stay. You don't approve of me or my life here, and I'm an adult. I don't have to host hostile people in my house. I love you, mama. You're family. But I want you to think long and hard about what I said, and why you never think anything I do is all right. After you think about that for a while, then we'll talk."
Hudson comes out from the back hallway with their bags. "You have a lovely daughter, Mrs. Everett. She's done really well for herself here, and I look forward to seeing her photography all over Phoenix."
"What are you talking about?" she says sharply.
He looks at me like he's shocked. "You didn't tell her?"
I shake my head no, even though I don't have any idea what he's talking about. He clears his throat. "I'm a business owner, and I'm also friends with one of the premiere commercial architects in Phoenix. We're talking with him, and there's a possibility that Christine might be his go-to photographer for art in his new buildings."
My mother at least has the grace to look surprised. And for just a second, she even looks pleased. "Well, that's very nice."
"You're right, it is," he says, as I open the door for him. Out by the car he shakes her hand since she wouldn't let him do it when he first arrived. "I hope that I can get to know you more in the future."
She doesn't say anything. It's because she doesn't lie, and she's not sure she wants to get to know him better. Hudson wraps his arms around me from behind while we watch them drive away, sour looks on their faces. "Thank you," I say.
"Smother them with kindness," he says.
I practically snort. "They won't appreciate it."
"Maybe not, but it could be good in the future if they don't already hate me."
I lead him back into the house. "Well, this is home. I know it's small."
He shrugs, "Is that what they said? I think it's a fine size house. Especially since you live alone. Were you ever to live with someone else, it might get a little bit cramped."
"True."
Sitting down on my couch, he grins. "I like it."
"Wait a second," I say. "How did you get my address?"
Hudson's grin turns a little sheepish. "I looked up your billing address from the Halloween ticket."
"Sneaky," I roll my eyes. "I could be really mad at you, you know. For invading my privacy like that."
"Are you mad?" It's a genuine question. He's not smiling anymore.
I walk over to him and straddle his lap, pressing my lips to his. "No, I'm not mad. You showed up at the perfect time."
"I didn't know how else to show you I was serious." His arms pull me closer. "I knew there wasn't anything I could say that would convince you that I don't care about who we are in the club. It's fun, but I want you. Wherever you are and whatever you're doing. Especially because I'm falling in love with you."
My breath stills in my chest. The words don't seem scary when he says them. They seem natural and perfect and of course that's what I've been feeling. How could I not? "I love you too."
His lips crash onto mine, and he squeezes me tight so that our bodies are entirely aligned. We're so close that I can feel how hard he is and what he wants. "The bed is more comfortable."
"Which bed? Yours or the guest room?"
I laugh against his lips. "I don't care, just take me to a bed."
He picks me up and carries me to my room, laying me out and following me down. I can't seem to stop kissing him. "This was one of my fantasies too, you know."
"Being in my bed?"
"No." He shakes his head. "Telling you I love you, and having you say it back."
The smile on my face is so wide that it hurts. "Say it again."
"I love you."
"I love you too."
Epilogue
One Year Later
The crowd of people that have showed up here is insane and daunting. I'm not sure how Hudson did it. There's no way this many people are here because they're fans of my work. I glance towards the entrance of the gallery where still more people are coming in.
What Hudson told my mother was true, he did talk to his friend the architect, and now my photographs are in most of the new corporate buildings in Phoenix. But tonight, this is my first solo exhibition. Not the photos I gave to the buildings, but the ones that I truly love. The ones I hung onto because they were truly special to me. I even went back to that fountain. With Hudson. It's the only photo in the entire gallery that has a person in it. He was taking a look at the fountain and the way the light was hitting his face was perfect and I just snapped the shot.
My lucky shot of a lifetime.
It's the only photograph I've taken that my mother likes. She's not here-she still doesn't like what I'm doing with my life. But I can see her trying and things are getting better. Slowly. Partly it's because she likes Hudson more than she likes me. His ‘smother with kindness' defense has worked better than I'd ever hoped.
Speaking of Hudson, I see him weaving through the crowd towards me. He's taller than everyone else, so he's easy to spot. He hands me a glass of champagne. "I got your favorite."
I take a sip and my eyes go wide. It's the champagne from our first night together at the Halloween party. "Thank you! This is delicious." We've had it again only a handful of times since then, and every time it manages to be a special and amazing night. Even though I shouldn't, I'm choosing to see this as a good omen.