Page 11 of The Wedding Fake
My eyes ticked back and forth between the Lieutenant and Hudson, finally catching and holding on Hudson. “What if it moves?” I whispered, unable to stop the vivid images of being crushed between the levels. That had happened in a movie once—torso still in the arms of the firemen as legs went crashing down to the basement.
Hudson shook his head. “We haven’t moved in?—”
“Claire, let’s go ahead and get you up here first,” the firefighter repeated loudly, interrupting Hudson, and I felt my muscles go tight. I couldn’t cross the distance right now if I wanted to, and I didn’t want to.
“Give her a minute,” Hudson said, the irritation evident in his gruff tone and in the glare he threw toward Wallace before he stepped in front of me and blocked my view of the man. “Claire,” he said calmly, his hands lifting to cup my face between his palms. “Look at me,” he said, his voice now clear and steady.
I was examining every corner of our tiny prison, looking for any indication we might suddenly move, but his words centered me—if only for a moment—and I settled my gaze on Hudson’s dark eyes. Up close there were golden spots mixed in with the darker brown.
He ran a thumb along my mouth, letting the digit settle in the center of my lips to hold them shut. “Just like before, okay?” he said gently. “Through your nose. Slow, deep breaths.” He inhaled theatrically and I followed along, feeling more grounded with each breath. His lips tipped up in a small smile and I opened my mouth to speak, but he pressed down again, keeping me quiet. “Not yet,” he murmured. “In a minute we’re going to walk over to Lieutenant Wallace over there, okay?” Knowing I couldn’t speak, I nodded instead. “I’m going to lift you up and he’ll pull you out. It’ll be over in a second. Do you understand?” I nodded once more, and he dipped his chin, narrowing his eyes. “If I thought there was the slightest danger, I would happily stay in this elevator talking to you all night.” As terrifying as the scenario was, I believed Hudson. He wasn’t afraid, and he wasn’t lying right now. The pressure from his thumb lifted, but the appendage stayed hovering over my lips for a moment. I had a wildly inappropriate urge to kiss the digit, but I didn’t. Then Hudson tucked my hair behind my ear and gave a single nod. “You ready?”
Apparently the question was rhetorical this time, because he clasped my hand and walked me to the elevator doors. The concrete wall came up to my chest, leaving roughly three feet of open door for me to slip through. My hand tightened on Hudson’s and I was so tempted to let my mental slideshow of agonizing death begin again. “I’ve got you,” he whispered in my ear, and I breathed out, zeroing all my focus onto those words.
“What’s your name, sir?” Lieutenant Wallace asked, looking at Hudson this time as he reached down with one arm.
“Hudson North, sir. I’m a paramedic.”
“Excellent,” the Lieutenant said, and it was clear in his tone that his opinion of Hudson had just improved markedly. “You know what to do, then. Give her a lift straight up, and we’ll grab her out here. On three?”
Stepping behind me, Hudson settled his hands on my waist, shifting to get a better grip. I tried not to think about the fact that I would soon be launched into the air and dragged through a tiny opening capable of crushing me in an instant, and I tried not to lean into Hudson’s embrace, tempting though it was. Instead, I reached up, allowing the firefighter to clasp my arms.
“One,” Lieutenant Wallace began. “Two…”
I didn’t hear him say three. The blood rushing in my ears felt too loud, and all of my attention was focused on the place where Hudson’s fingers held tight to my waist. It must’ve happened, though, because Hudson lifted me as if I weighed nothing, and two firefighters pulled me up and out. And instead of thinking about my imminent death, all I could think about was the way the firemen were accidentally yanking my dress in the process, surely giving Hudson a view of my pink, cotton briefs.
7
CLAIRE
The ringing phone jarred me out of my work. I glanced at the screen, finding Nora’s name flashing importantly. I groaned deeply, swiping on the phone and hitting speaker. Then, leaning back in my chair, I hit the save button on my spreadsheet—probably unnecessary since it claimed to autosave—and closed my laptop.
“Hey,” I said to my youngest sister.
“Hey, Claire,” Nora said, her voice light and airy. Had we not looked somewhat similar, I would’ve assumed Nora had been switched at birth. Emily, Tessa, and I were all serious, studious, and driven. Nora was none of those things.
Nora was planning a honeymoon that involved driving across the country in a van with a mattress in the back. She said it was all the rage online, and everyone she knew would be epically jealous—her words, of course—but I wasn’t even remotely jealous of a long road trip stinking up the back of a conversion van. I wanted a honeymoon in Bali, or the Seychelles. Somewhere warm and beachy with accommodations larger than fifteen square feet.
The last time I’d been jealous, it had been of the woman two cubicles over, who’d begun investing in her 401k earlier and more aggressively than I had. The woman, Marla, already had a boatload of money tucked away for her retirement. Money she certainly wouldn’t be using to buy a van with a bed inside. Inhaling, I leaned farther back in my chair, kicking off my slippers and pulling my knees up to my chest. “How are you? Feeling excited?” I asked.
“To know I’m going to marry the man of my dreams in barely more than a week?” Nora replied dreamily. “I’m thrilled. Honestly, though, I’m also really excited to have you and Emily home. When was the last time we were all under the same roof?”
I hadn’t been home a lot since I’d moved to the city, but it wasn’t my schedule that made getting together hard. Emily’s work was far more demanding. Still, I thought about the question for a minute, then replied, “Labor Day. So what was that? September sixth?”
“I didn’t need an actual date, Claire. My point is, we’re hardly ever together. Even on Labor Day, Em could only come up for the day. She’s taking off five whole days for my wedding.”
“Of course she is, Nora. We love you. We’d never miss this,” I replied, hoping she wouldn’t use my statement against me, reminding me I’d been hesitant to take off enough work to visit for a full seven days.
“I know that.” Nora’s voice caught for a second, like maybe she wanted to say something she wasn’t. “But I want this to be extra-special.”
This was the demand that made me the most crazy. Here everyone was, talking off work and getting together to celebrate Nora, and she wanted more. I rolled my lips between my teeth. The week was likely to be stressful and over-filled with family, but Nora was sweet and naive. It was the exact reason she should wait longer to get married. None of that mattered, though. I had to do what I told Hudson. I would learn to accept Ethan and be happy about this marriage. My sweet baby sister deserved that. I popped my lips back out. “It will be, Nora.”
Leaning forward, I picked up a pen and began to doodle, letting my thoughts drift. It was no surprise those thoughts drifted to Hudson as Nora began talking about her wedding planner. I’d been thinking a lot about Hudson in the three days since the elevator incident. I’d be analyzing numbers and his face would pop into my mind. Sometimes it was him smiling as he’d been while he sat listening to my story, and sometimes it was the blurred view of nose and lips as his head was pressed to mine, in that moment right before he kissed me—that moment when he’d told me how beautiful I was.
I’d been letting Nora talk, feeding her a steady stream of affirmations, when her words pulled me out of my Hudson-filled thoughts and back to the present. “Grant asked about you,” she said.
I sat my pen down, giving the call my full attention. “You know I’m not interested in Grant, Nora,” I said, my voice steady and clear.
I could practically hear Nora roll her eyes through the phone. “You just haven’t given him a chance. He reminds me so much of Ethan, Claire.”