“Okay.” Annika reached into her purse and pulled out her little notebook and pen. Her palms were actually damp. Holy shit. What she’d told June was a thousand percent true—Hudson was going to give up Break Up for good. Probably very soon.

Her fingers shaking slightly, she wrote “Hudson’s Magic List” at the top of the page and added, “#1: No more public face of Break Up.” Nodding at him seriously, she said, “Got it. What else?”

He looked at her, amused yet oblivious to the maelstrom inside her. “I guess … I’d have a full sculpting studio set up in my condo. So I wouldn’t need to rent out space anytime I got the itch.”

“Mm hmm.” Annika jotted that down. “Studio for sculpting. Done. Anything else?”

When he was quiet, she looked up at him—and froze. He was studying her with an intensity that made her stomach flip. “I’d like to be in a relationship with someone I care about and respect. Someone who shows me new ways of being.”

“Okay,” Annika said, hyperaware that her voice was a little squeaky. With a trembling hand, she wrote “#3: Relationship, care, respect.” What did he mean by that? Did he mean he wanted to be in a relationship with her specifically, or just in a relationship with someone? She wanted to ask him, but her mouth felt glued shut.

They gazed at each other across the flowers and the lambent lantern flame. Hudson’s eyes shone a golden green in the fading dusk. “What about you? What would be on your list?”

A waiter came by with their second courses before Annika could respond. When he was gone, she took her time cutting a piece of her smoked eggplant and chewing it carefully. Then, looking up at Hudson, she said, “More than anything, I want Make Up to work out.”

After a pause, during which they both ate their food and drank their wine in silence, listening to the hum and rumble of the train, Hudson said, “What else would be on your list? Just Make Up?”

There was a look in his eye, a shadow of the question he really wanted to ask. Annika’s stomach fluttered.

“Well, I want my dad to be happy, of course,” she said formally, buying time.

“Of course,” Hudson said, just as formally, cutting his fish.

Annika took a gulp of her wine. Her palm was actually sweating around the glass. Yuck. “And … you know, I might want to start dating. A little bit. Maybe.”

Hudson’s face was casual as he nodded. “Hmm. Interesting.”

“Isn’t it?” Annika said, her heart hammering pitifully against her chest. “I mean, you want a relationship, I’m thinking about dating … it’s definitely like we’re moving along. On similar paths, one might say.”

“One might,” Hudson agreed, watching her.