Page 6 of Finding Yesterday
“Maybe.” The last thing I need is a mate who makes me feel alone when we’re together. I muster my firmest voice when I say, “But I want the dream.”
He blinks, looking away before returning his gaze. “I don’t know what to say to that.”
“Say you want the dream too.”
He whooshes out a breath. “I can’t say something that’s not true.”
Wow. I squeeze my eyes shut as the rest of my life flashes before my eyes. It’s the strangest thing—I see myself getting married, having kids, growing old—and Hudson’s not there, not in any of it. It’s dawning on me that he never was, and I wasn’t able to admit it to myself. Not until just now.
I don’t know how to verbalize this, so I say the only words I can. “Then we want different things.” I swallow hard. “I can’t marry you, Hudson. I’m so sorry.”
The look on Hudson’s face is more frustration than sadness. And he doesn’t even try to talk me out of it or tell me that yes, hedoeslove me fully and completely. He just stands there, red-faced, staring at his toes. I wait patiently for him to say something,anything, but he doesn’t.
I turn and rush up the stairs. I can’t take another second of wanting something from Hudson that he can never give.
CHAPTER THREE
ALL I’VE DONEfor the past two days is cry. Since the end of college four years ago, the only life I’ve known is with Hudson.
He and I spoke yesterday, Monday, when I picked up my clothes from his apartment and brought them to Emma’s house for now. I don’t own furniture since I moved into Hudson’s place with him after college.
Tangz was going to be closed for our honeymoon, but since that’s no longer happening, we both decided to open the restaurant today.
Now, we’re just going to have to figure out some professional, work-only relationship.
I inhale a deep breath as I approach the apricot bungalow-style home we converted into Tangz. It’s Hudson’s parents’ old house, which worked out amazingly well because it’s located on a street in Midtown that changed from residential to commercial with heavy foot traffic.
The riches-to-rags-to-riches history of Midtown is fascinating, actually. At the end of the nineteenth century, mostly wealthy families owned large tracts of land here, but by the 1960s, Midtown was known for its unsavory streets. In the 1970s, it’d become the Haight-Ashbury of the South. When the 1996 Olympic Games brought further urbanization, Hudson’s parents moved to the suburbs to raise their two boys. But they kept this home, renting it to the young, urban professionals flocking to the neighborhood.
I slide my key into the knob of the creaky, old door and try to turn it. It won’t budge, so I try again, repositioning the key over and over.
It has to open.
But it doesn’t. Finally, the lock clicks from the inside and the door swings open. Standing there is June, my mother-in-law.
Or the woman who would’ve been my mother-in-law. Why is she here?
I point to the knob. “That handle is broken.”
“We changed the locks, Claire.” Her face is hard, and her voice is razor sharp.
I gasp. “What? Why?” Yanking the key out, I continue. “You can’t do that. It’s just as much my restaurant as it is Hudson’s!”
She folds her arms over her pearl-buttoned sweater. “This house belongs to Bill and me,” she replies, cold and clipped.
“But…” I trail off, my brain feeling like it’s in a mixer. “You can’t just kick me out of the restaurant I worked day and night to get going.” I clutch my apron, my palms getting clammy.
“You’re right, I can’t. But I can buy you out.” She holds out an envelope. “Here’s an offer, Claire. We’re giving you half of Tangz’s current valuation if you sign over your portion of the restaurant to Hudson.”
My voice turns screechy. “You think you can just hand me a check and I’ll walk away?”
“Yes, I do,” she continues, raising her perfectly manicured brows.
“Oh really. Who’s going to do all the cooking?” I stare her down. “Or deal with unhappy customers? Or come up with all the new menu items? I do a ton for this place.”
“We know that, Claire.” Her face remains hard. “And we thank you for your dedicated service to Tangz.”
“Are you kidding me? I’m not leaving.”
