Chapter Thirteen
It was only seconds after Celia walked out and I had stowed my phone back in my bra when Mira stepped into the vanity from the stall area. Since no toilets had flushed recently and I hadn’t heard any running water, I realized she must have been standing around the corner for a while. Her face was more serious than I’d ever seen, and something about her expression made me feel unexplainably guilty.
“Hey,” I said, trying to shake the strange feeling.
She pierced me with her brown eyes. “You were talking to Celia.”
“Yeah.” I put my hand on the vanity counter for support even though I hadn’t done anything wrong. We were at a family get-together, eight of us in total. Should I really not be expected to talk to one of the other guests? To my boyfriend’s only friend?
“I don’t think you should do that anymore.” Mira’s voice was even and absent of any chiding.
“Why?”
She softened as she stepped toward me, her regular bubbly persona returning. “She’s your competition, Laynie! I mean, Hudson is totally into you and no one but you, but Celia is after him. She’s pictured herself married to him for so long, it’s a done deal in her head.”
“I know, I know.” A strange pang of pity washed over me. Maybe Celia really didn’t want Hudson, and everyone just kept saying that she did, accusing her of something that she’d long past outgrown. I knew how that felt. To be thought still crazy long after I’d gotten better.
Swallowing, I voiced the defense that surprised even me. “She says she doesn’t, though. Want him, I mean. She really seems like she might be over him. She’s been really supportive, actually.”
Mirabelle fluffed the back of her bobbed hair. “Okay. Maybe that’s true. I might be overreacting. But I’ve known her my whole life, and she hasn’t always been the best person.”
I could imagine what it looked like to Mira, when Hudson had left Celia heartbroken and devastated. To the young impressionable teenager that Mira must have been, it would be easy to blame Celia for the awfulness that had surrounded Hudson. Especially with her as devoted to her brother as she was.
But she was a grown-up now. She had to see the story was bigger than she’d once thought, even if she didn’t know the details. “Hudson hasn’t always been the best person either,” I reminded her.
Disappointment flashed across her eyes.
“I’m not saying that I’m not for Hudson. I don’t care what he’s done or who he’s been. Truly.” I would stand by him no matter what shit he’d gone through, just like he stood by me and all the shit I’d done. “It’s only that we’ve all been worse people.” Except probably Mira. “At least, a lot of us have been worse people,” I amended.
“I’m sure that’s true.” She stepped toward me, placing her hand lightly on my arm. “But, don’t feel like Celia’s your only resource, okay? If you need to talk, Laynie, call me. Or better yet, talk to Hudson.”
My head was throbbing with all the back and forth—accuse Celia, defend Celia, trust Celia, don’t trust Celia. Truth was, the only person I really needed to defend was Hudson. The only person I needed to trust was him.
Yes, he was the one I should turn to when I needed someone to talk to. He was the only one who mattered. The only one who knew how to calm me down. “I’ll talk to Hudson. Good idea.”
She grinned. “Sometimes I have them. Good ideas. Pregnancy brain and all.”
Suddenly, I felt like I’d been away from Hudson for entirely too long and I ached to see him. The ache dissipated the moment we came out of the bathroom, and I found Hudson waiting, his posture strong and one hundred percent male, his eyes blazing at the sight of me. It never failed to make me weak in the knees.
With a wave, Mira headed toward our table on the heels of Celia. She must have lingered after leaving the bathroom. I had to guess she talked to Hudson. Which was fine. Totally fine. Expected, even. It wasn’t her he was waiting for. It was me. Always.
Hudson took my hand when I approached him. “Are you ready to go?”
Despite not having finished my meal, leaving sounded heavenly. “I thought you’d never ask.”
“Then let’s get going.” He seemed distracted as he pulled me toward the front of the restaurant, but who wouldn’t be after the evening we’d had.
We’d nearly made it past the host’s desk when Sophia stepped in front of us. “Were you planning on sneaking out without a proper goodbye?”
I rolled my eyes. But Hudson, level and controlled as always, merely raised a brow. “Were you waiting here to attack me in case I was?”
Sophia frowned, her Botox’d forehead barely moving. “Of course not. I stepped away to call for my car. It’s impolite to do such things at the table.” Her tone was chiding. As if it had been Hudson wrapped into his phone all evening instead of her other son.
Hudson’s grip tightened on my hand. “I already said goodbye to you, Mother.”
“You did.” She nodded at me. “She didn’t. In fact, I don’t remember her saying hello.”
My stomach tightened and a thousand harsh responses crossed my mind in the matter of half a second. Taking my lead from Hudson, I chose to remain cool. “Neither did you.”
“No, I didn’t.” Her smile was tight, but her eyes brightened. Suddenly I understood that she enjoyed sparring with me. If I were smart, then I wouldn’t react. That would take away her reward.
But perhaps I liked the banter as well, the challenge similar to a good game of chess. “Actually, I thought that was very clever of you, Sophia. The evening went fairly well when we were pretending each other didn’t exist. Don’t you think?”
“Thank you. It was purely unplanned, seeing as how I didn’t know you were coming until an hour before when Hudson called to tell me.” Sophia was teasing me, trying to rile me up by letting me know I hadn’t been on the guest list. It would have been a brilliant play if I hadn’t already known.
I played it smooth. “Oh, you did call, H? I thought you were leaving it as a surprise.”
“Yes, I called while you were dressing. I decided that Sophia might be better behaved if she was prepared.” Hudson fell right into my game. Though he preferred to keep me sheltered from his mother’s antics, he was generally amused by the way I handled her.
Her back straightened, a direct contradiction to the way she must have felt, her move having been countered so effortlessly. “Yes, it did work out well. I’ll remember the ignoring tactic for next time.”
My turn. “Then you’ve finally accepted there will be a next time?” Check.
Her smile widened as if I’d walked into a trap. “I’m nothing if not realistic, Alayna Withers. The question remains how many next times there will be. I’m in Hudson’s life permanently. Are you?”
My composure faltered, my shoulders tensing, my body preparing for a fight.
Hudson stepped in. “Mother, stop it. It’s your birthday. Happy day to you. If you’re miserable, it’s only because you won’t let yourself enjoy anything.” He let go of me and hugged Sophia awkwardly, giving her a dry peck on the cheek.
For the millionth time, I wondered at the relationship between mother and son. It had taken far less for me to cut off my brother. Of course, that had only been two days before. I couldn’t speak for what would happen next between us. And I could only guess at Hudson and Sophia’s past. The details were hidden from me, much like most everything in Hudson’s life.
Time, I reminded myself. I’d learn about him in time.
Hudson broke the embrace, his hands pushing gently on Sophia’s shoulders.
“You smell like sex,” she said when he stepped away.
I couldn’t help but take that as a compliment.
“I’m surprised you recognize the smell.” Without moving his eyes from his mother, Hudson reached for my hand again.
I slipped my palm against his and absorbed the electric spark that always shot through my body at his touch.
Sophia’s gaze drifted to our connected limbs and back to her son’s face. “I’m not a prude.”
Hudson shook his head once, bored with the conversation. “No, no one’s accusing you of that. I’m simply shocked you could smell anything over the aroma of bourbon.” And checkmate.
“Go home, Hudson. “
“Gladly.”
We rode the elevator in silence and the limo as well. There was too much to think about—Jack and Sophia, Celia then Mira. So many aspects of the evening to dwell on, reasons to be confused and muddled. The one thing I wasn’t confused about was Hudson. Not anymore. Not since the roof when he’d done some sort of magic sex trick that alleviated all my fears about him. He’d f*cked away my doubts, said the right words, and for the first time in, well, ever, I thought that maybe I could be a normal girl in a normal relationship with a normal guy.
Okay, I’d never be a normal girl and Hudson would never be a normal guy, but perhaps we’d found the closest thing to normal that we’d ever be capable of achieving. And it was pretty damn good.
As I absentmindedly watched the buildings passing through the limo window, it didn’t even cross my mind to wonder if we were going to The Bowery or if I was being taken home. Hudson hadn’t given any instruction to our driver. I simply took it for granted that I’d spend the night with my lover. Hudson must have taken it for granted too, because Jordan pulled up to the curb in front of his high-rise without a word to me.
It was when we were in the penthouse and the quiet between us persisted that I realized it wasn’t only me lost in my head. Hudson had disappeared inside his head too. It wasn’t unusual for him to be quiet and within himself—that was the man I’d first met and been drawn to. But even when I’d seen him consumed with his work, he always had a sliver of his attention pinned to me. Though subtle, it was unmistakable.
Tonight was different. We exited the elevator and without a word, Hudson immediately headed to the library. I trailed after him, unsure. Though he hadn’t been home since the arrival of the books, he didn’t even give them a glance. He beelined to his desk, threw his jacket across the back of his chair and sat down.
Without looking at me, he said, “I have some work to do. It will likely be a late night. I don’t expect you to wait up.”
“Oh. All right.” There was more shock to my tone than hurt. We’d never been alone and not all over each other. It was…strange.
For several seconds, I stood frozen, not knowing what I should do. Then common sense kicked in. “Do you need anything? A nightcap, perhaps?”
He sifted through some papers on his desk, furrowing his brow at one of them. “I may make myself a Scotch later.” Then he turned to his computer and was gone from me.
I could make him a Scotch. I wanted to, actually, because then I’d feel needed, wanted. Like I had a purpose in being there.
But Hudson’s tone was definitive. He didn’t want me to serve him, for whatever reason, and even if I ignored him and got him his drink, I knew already that he wouldn’t acknowledge it. Probably wouldn’t even notice.
I made him the drink anyway, leaving it on the corner of his desk. He saw me, I knew he did. But like I suspected, he didn’t respond.
He’d gone somewhere, somewhere far away. Somewhere he was unwilling to take me.
I slipped away to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, still unmade from the night before. Hudson Pierce, obscenely rich and powerful, and he didn’t even have someone who came in to make his bed daily.
Trivial thought, but it was what crossed my mind first.
Then the questions swept in, the constant examination that my mind never seemed to tire of. What had triggered this distant mood of Hudson’s? Had it been the last conversation with his mother? The night in general?
Maybe he simply had work to do. He’d expected me to be at The Sky Launch all night. He hadn’t planned to entertain me. And I shouldn’t have expected that he should. We’d found each other, but that didn’t mean the rest of our lives stopped. We still had things to do, responsibilities. Especially a man such as him.
I was sure it wasn’t me, it wasn’t us. He’d claimed me, the last time only two short hours before. I was his. His mood wasn’t because of me.
As further proof, if I needed it, he’d brought me to his place when he could have easily taken me to my own. He wanted me there, even if he couldn’t let himself be with me entirely. I knew that. Knew.
I took a deep breath, letting my tense muscles relax as I exhaled.
Then I let go.
Let go of all of it—the thoughts, the worries, the doubts. I wasn’t doing psycho. Not anymore. No more obsessing. No more examining. Just let go.
Clarity settled in. People got moody. I was still practically a stranger to Hudson’s life, relationships were new to both of us—I couldn’t expect either of us to be perfect at communicating with each other. We had to learn, and that took time.
We had time.
I stared at the empty doorway, considering what to do with myself. Watch TV? Or read a book? There were plenty to choose from. I could join Hudson in the library, work on unpacking the books.
But my gut said he needed his space. Though he’d ignored me when I asked him to leave me alone on the roof, that tactic wouldn’t work in reverse. Hudson didn’t like to be handled like I did. I loved to be handled by him. Adored it. Craved it.
Hudson, though—his walls weren’t as easy to overcome. They were mountains. I had to scale them cautiously with stealth and firm handholds. Sometimes I had to chill on a ledge and wait until the weather was better before I began my upward climb again. And sometimes, I’d reach the top of one, and he’d be there, waiting and exposed, and together we’d enjoy the breathtaking view.
Right now I was at a ledge. Chilling.
I laughed to myself. Whoever thought I’d be able to chill about a man? Yet, here I was, not acting crazy, no matter where my head wanted to go.
I stood and looked at myself in the dresser mirror. Did I look different? Paul had said I did. Did my eyes shine brighter? Were the ever-present dark circles under my eyes lighter than usual? Was this what it looked like to be mentally healthy? Because, even if my reflection showed nothing had changed, this me was completely new and amazing.
So even though Hudson’s current temperament was baffling and mysterious, I felt good. Strong.
And I’d move in. If he was going to have bouts of isolation, I’d rather still be near him physically, even if I was apart from him emotionally. Besides, that night had proven we could weather stress, and we always seemed to weather it best together.
It was after ten, but I decided to run. I changed and slipped into the penthouse gym, spending forty minutes on the treadmill, followed by a quick shower. Then, after debating over a nightie or a t-shirt or simply my panties, I settled on staying nude and climbed in bed alone. I meant it to be a message to Hudson: I’m naked for you. Bare for you. No more walls, no more guarded emotions.
When he joined me later, he’d see. He’d get what I wasn’t able to speak to him at the moment, an echo of the words that he had repeated to me over and over earlier. I’m with you. I’m with you.
I awoke sometime later in the dark room, lying on my side, with Hudson’s arm around me, his hand fondling my breast. Silently, he kissed along my shoulder and up my neck.
I sighed into him, even half-asleep my body was instantly attuned to him, ready, wanting. Slipping my hand between my thighs, I rubbed at my *, and he thrust into me with ease. It was only moments before we’d found our rhythm, our heavy breathing the lone sound as we moved together toward the same goal.
As my climax approached, my fingers yearned to be wandering up and down the landscape of Hudson’s chest. Reaching behind to grab his ass wasn’t enough. My hands felt empty and a vague thought drifted through my mind that our position mirrored the current state of our relationship. Both of us looking forward, working together toward a singular outcome, but with Hudson still not completely within my reach. My hands reaching for something I couldn’t quite grasp.
We finished near together, and we laid there for several movements without moving or speaking. When our breathing had calmed to normal, I broke the silence. “Where did you go? Earlier.”
He nuzzled his nose into my hair. “Does it matter? I’m here now.”
I’d told Mira I’d talk to Hudson. But what was I supposed to do when he closed himself off? Even now, in the midst of intimacy, he left part of himself closed.
And maybe that was for the best. Because the parts of him that he opened were bright and blinding, like a beacon in the darkness. So I let my questions roll away, evaporating into nothing as he turned me toward him, lining me up underneath his form. Maybe conversation wasn’t needed now. We would speak as we spoke best, with physical touch, our bodies rocking in simultaneous waves. Together.
“Mon amour. Mon précieux,” he said against my ear. “Mon chéri. Mon bien-aimé.”
He was speaking French. He said he would later, with my legs wrapped around him. So I threw my lower limbs around his hips, tilting into him.
Though the words were unnecessary, he muttered them over and over as we made love again. Between the kisses he placed on my neck and on my mouth, as he rolled in and out of me in rhythm with the beautiful poetry on his tongue. “Je suis avec vous. Always. I’m with you, mon précieux.”