Right As Rain (Complete)

Chapter 29

Maelee

I check the address one more time and walk through the tall, wooden doors of the industrial building. I've driven by this place at least a thousand times but never noticed it. It's large windows, high metal beams, and exposed brick wall make it inviting, but also trendy.

Hudson initially ignored my phone call and I lost all hope. When he called me back thirty minutes later, hope was restored.

"Maelee? This is Hudson. Hudson Steele," he said. My heart did that weird pitter patter thing and I smiled more than I will admit. It's somewhat adorable the extremely hot and super confident celebrity felt the need to use his full name.

He didn't give me a chance to apologize over the phone. He suggested we meet for coffee and I didn't argue. It was almost two in the morning when we finally spoke; I doubt my brain could have properly articulated everything I needed to say anyway. He seemed nervous, but not off-putting. I concluded he must not be much of a phone talker. Understandable, I wouldn't be if the hospital didn't insist on calling me so damn much.

The large shop is fairly full, even for nine in the morning. There are small wooden tables scattered across the concrete floor, most of them occupied by men in suits or young adults with laptops and headphones. None of them are occupied by Hudson.

I'm not sure what to do in this situation. Do I wait for him to arrive? Do I pick a table? With Jessica, it isn't this hard. Her fans, for the most part, are understanding and respectful of her privacy. A few times she has been asked for pictures while we are out getting coffee or lunch, but not often. I have a feeling things are a bit different for Hudson.

Though beautiful, the building and its large windows are exposing. After our headline yesterday, I doubt he would want to sit by the window. It's a shame, there are few things I love more than the sun. Maybe I'm over thinking it. He did pick this place, after all. He knew what he was getting in to. It wouldn't be my fault if he was seen.

A young brunette wearing a black waist apron and a black shirt meets me at the front of the shop. "Do you have a reservation?" she asks. Reservation? I thought this was a coffee shop. Despite how crowded it is in here, she is relaxed and maintains a sweet, genuine, smile.

I look around one more time for Hudson. "I'm not sure," I tell her. "I'm meeting someone. My name is Maelee Parker."

The girl lights up. "Dr. Parker?" she asks. She gives me a once over and bounces a little more when I nod. "Right this way."

I follow her through the shop and behind the kitchen to a small room holding five medium sized wooden tables. The walls are lined with professionally framed pieces of what seems to be trash: napkins, coasters, crumpled up notebook pages, and even a paper coffee cup. Above each frame are explanations of the items and photographs of various people receiving awards. Some of them I recognize, others I don't. One in particular stands out.

A photo of Hudson, dated almost three years ago, accepting an awards sits on top of a framed napkin scribbled with what I now recognize as his handwriting.

So here I am again

for what seems like the hundredth time

sitting and waiting

for you to arrive

"Dr. Parker?" the young woman calls. She is holding open a door that leads outside.

I follow her into the bright sunlight and it takes my breath away. It's like I've stepped into another time or place –another realm even. The rock and moss floor is enclosed by high walls, covered in ivy and flowers. Roses of every color climb up the posts of a large pergola and cascade around an old fountain. Potted petunias and lilies grow on the outer edge of the pavestone seating area. Each of the tables has its own arrangement, varying in shape and size. I take in everything around me. The patio, coupled with the warmth of the sun and fresh scent of flowers washes over me and relaxes me so much, I almost forget what I'm doing.