Christina’s POV
The owner appeared, setting down two huge plates piled high with crab legs, shrimp, clams, and scallops—steaming hot, slathered in garlic butter and served with lemon wedges.
"Dig in," I said.
He snapped on a pair of disposable gloves, neatly peeled a shrimp, and held it out to .
I blinked, then snatched it with my mouth before he could change his mind. The rich, buttery taste filled my mouth.
He ate carefully, occasionally glancing up at .
"You’re inhaling it," he murmured, smiling slightly.
"It’s seafood. You have to eat it while it’s hot." I cracked another crab leg.
He watched chew, a half-smile on his face. He clearly found my ssy eating entertaining.
I ignored him.
By the ti we paid and left, snow had started to fall.
Thick, soft flakes coated the sidewalk and landed in Hudson’s dark hair as we stepped outside.
I shivered in the cold wind.
The owner jogged out with an umbrella. "Here, take this. You’ll be soaked in five minutes."
"Thanks," Hudson said. He opened it and held it over my head.
The umbrella was flimsy and barely wide enough for one, forcing us to press shoulder to shoulder.
With each step, his heavy coat brushed against my arm.
The alley was quiet, the only sound the crunch of our boots in the fresh snow.
We walked slowly. My fingers grazed his occasionally. His hand was warm; mine was freezing.
I shifted closer. When our hands brushed again, he didn’t pull back. Instead, he laced his fingers through mine.
I held on tight.
The streetlights glowed through the falling snow. Just as we reached the end of the block, he stopped and leaned in.
"Chrissy."
"Yes?"
He looked down into my eyes, searching for sothing.
"Do you feel... sothing different?" he asked softly. "When you’re with ?"
I paused. Was he asking if I liked him? Had feelings for him?
If so, this powerful Alpha was being as smooth as a teenage boy asking a girl to prom.
"What exactly do you an?" I asked directly.
He studied my face for a long mont, looking for a sign. There was a flicker of hope in his eyes, raw and open.
Finally, he smiled lightly.
"Can we give this a shot?"
"Give what a shot?"
He squeezed my hand. "Us. A relationship. A real one. Can I ask you to... try? With ?"
I turned to fully face him. His gaze was steady, honest in a way I hadn’t seen before.
The lights from the main street didn’t quite reach us here. It was just us, alone under the small umbrella.
Behind him, the snow kept falling, silent and heavy.
My pulse sped up.
I could still picture him in the car earlier, holding onto , his voice hoarse with pain.
I had brought him here just to share a good al, sothing to make him smile.
It wasn’t much. Just dinner and a walk in the snow. But it was all I had to offer.
"Yes," I said, the word slipping out before I could stop myself.
The change in Hudson’s face was instant. That careful, guarded expression he always wore simply lted away. His lips curved into a small but genuine smile that changed everything.
Before he could respond, I quickly added, "The divorce still happens in a year."
Akira stirred within . You don’t an that.
Shut up, I thought back. I’m being practical.
Even as I said the words, I knew I was lying to myself. I’d already fallen for him—hard. But our arrangent had terms, deadlines. This wasn’t so fairytale; it was a business agreent with an expiration date.
"Right," he said softly. "That was our agreent."
His gaze shifted away for a second, then returned to mine with new intensity. "But contracts can be anded, updated... or scrapped entirely."
"So you’re suggesting we cancel the one-year limit?" I asked. "There’s still about eight months left. Actually, seven months and nine days."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "You’ve been counting. You’ve literally been counting down the days until you can leave."
"...I haven’t."
But I had. Not because I wanted it to end, though. I wanted ti to slow down. My marriage to Hudson had been the only real stability I’d known in years. Not perfect, but... solid.
Yet whenever I felt too comfortable, that deadline would remind not to get too attached. That I wouldn’t get to keep him.
Without that deadline, I wouldn’t need to hold back.
"So," Hudson said again, "are you willing to give us a chance? To try with ?"
"I can." I already have. "What about you?"
He stepped closer, leaning down slightly so I had to look up at him.
"Do you really not know?"
The snow whirled around us, but beneath our small umbrella was a pocket of stillness, as if we’d shut out the city’s noise.
Hudson’s gaze held in place. I couldn’t move even if I wanted to.
I closed my eyes.
Everything ca rushing back.
Hudson in the stairwell, hands dusty after fixing the fuse box.
Hudson at the hospital, bringing blankets, slippers, and coffee so hot it burned my tongue.
The night he asked if I would marry him as casually as asking if I wanted a ride.
Our rehearsal dinner, the lights dimd and music playing low in the darkness as he held close to practice our dance.
In the pool, his face erging from the water—the last thing I saw before I slipped under.
On the courthouse steps, handing flowers, telling I was brave.
He always showed up.
Even when I didn’t ask.
Even when I tried to push him away.
The fireworks display. That cake.
And the money. No strings attached, just there when I needed it.
He might never have spoken his feelings aloud, but he’d shown them through actions, over and over.
I opened my eyes, the realization stinging.
All my reasons for hesitating no longer made sense.
I raised my hand to the back of his neck, gently pulling him closer.
And I kissed him.
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