Found in You (Fixed)

Chapter Twelve




Amazingly, the calm Hudson gave me on the rooftop continued as we made our way back to the restaurant. Even Sophia’s peeved glare didn’t fluster me as the waiter pulled out my chair for me.

Sophia took a sip of the brown liquid in her hand. “It’s about time you returned.”

I remembered what Hudson had said as we’d left—that I’d forgotten something in the car—and I started to apologize, using that as the basis of my excuse.

But Hudson beat me to answering. “We got distracted.” He squeezed my hand before relinquishing his hold on me, letting me sit in my chair. As soon as I sat, he took my hand again under the table. I couldn’t think of another time that I’d been so publicly claimed. And after his private appropriation of my body minutes before, relaxing into a comfortable doubt-free place with Hudson seemed like a real possibility.

Not just a possibility but a reality.

“Laynie!” Mira seemed about to burst out of her chair. “I’m so glad you made it!”

The last time I’d seen her, she’d been worried I was done with her brother. My presence was a declaration otherwise.

“Me, too.” I smiled back at her and passed the same grin on to the others at the table, including Chandler’s head that was bent over his iPhone and the Werners. But I didn’t look Celia in the eye as I did. I could feel her trying to catch my gaze, but I wasn’t interested. She hadn’t told me about the dinner either and that made me suspicious. Perhaps wrongly so, but suspicious all the same.

“Me, three,” Jack said, winking at me.

Maybe it was my imagination, but Hudson seemed to snarl at his father’s statement. His protectiveness of me was silly at times, yet it also warmed me.

Sophia finished off her glass and set it on the table with an attention getting thunk. “Well, we already ordered.”

“That’s fine. We’ll catch up.” Hudson signaled the waiter, who hastened over. He ordered for us both, in beautiful French that made me slick between my thighs. Or, rather, slicker.

“And while you’re here, I’ll have another of these.” Sophia held up her empty glass to the waiter, and I saw Mira and Hudson exchange a glance. I could relate all too well to what they were feeling—the dread of having an alcoholic parent, the questions and worries that occupied every moment. Would she drink too much tonight? Would she make a fool of herself? Of us?

Except in my life the she’s were replaced by he’s. It was my father who had been the alcoholic, the one who had caused me anxiety. Was that where I had first learned to worry? Maybe something I should talk to a therapist about sometime. Or, since I wasn’t seeing a therapist anymore, then maybe my counselor at the group I attended on a somewhat regular basis.

The thought was interrupted by Hudson leaning in to whisper in my ear. “I hope you don’t mind that I ordered for you.” The feel of his breath on my earlobe caused my hair to stand on end.

I didn’t. It saved me the trouble of having to decipher the menu. And listening to him speak in a foreign language….I sighed as the smooth lilt of his words lingered in my memory. “As long as my dish doesn’t have mushrooms, I’m happy.”

“No,” he chuckled, the sound sending an electric spark through my body. “I wouldn’t want you gagging at my mother’s birthday dinner.”

“Quite the opposite.” I leaned toward his ear now, so that only he could hear me. “The way you ordered, I’m salivating. I didn’t know you could speak French.”

“Fluently.”

My eyes widened. “Say something else?” We were flirting, something we didn’t do often in front of others, and it came so naturally that I let myself be carried where it took us.

“Oui. Plus tard, quand tu es enveloppée dans mes bras, je vais en parler jusqu’à ce que tu en frissonnes de plaisir”

His husky tone combined with the return of the accent drove me mad. “What did you say?” I was breathless.

He moved his arm around me, pulling me closer before speaking again. “I said, ‘Yes. Later, when you’re wrapped around me, I’ll speak it until you shudder with delight.’”

My face blazed with heat.

“You know there are other people at this table, Hudson,” Sophia chided.

I hoped those other people didn’t understand French better than I did. And that his translation had truly been quiet enough for only me to hear. But the darting eyes of Madge Werner across the table from me made me think Hudson had been heard.

Oh, well.

Mira rolled her eyes. “Mother, leave them alone.” Usually Mirabelle had endless patience for Sophia. Perhaps she was becoming more short-tempered as her pregnancy proceeded. “Can’t you see they’re in love?”

Hudson turned his head to smile at me. We were still so unused to the word—it felt odd hearing it being said about us. And it also felt apropos. Obvious, even. Like, duh. How could anyone not see it?


Sophia couldn’t. “Or they’re working awfully hard to make me believe that.” She smoothed her hair, which was so stiff that the movement did nothing.

Mira leaned back in her chair and rested her hands on her baby bump. “Why on earth would they want to fake a relationship?”

I kept my eyes on my plate, worried my expression would give something away. Why would Sophia jump to that conclusion? We had indeed tried to fake our relationship. I even had the feeling that Mirabelle suspected as much. But she also knew I loved her brother, and she’d never tell that to her mother. Mira was the type of person that hung everything on love. An any-obstacle-could-be-overcome-if-there-was-love type of person.

For the first time ever, I didn’t want to laugh at that idea.

Sophia took her refill from the waiter, not even bothering to let him set it down before indulging in a long sip. “Beats me. Why does Hudson like to do any of the shitty things he does to people? I long ago gave up trying to figure it out.”

Celia shifted uncomfortably in her seat, but her parents showed no reaction. Which confirmed that Hudson’s past was common knowledge to everyone at the table. No wonder he’d referred to the Werners as family. If they knew his dark secrets, then they practically were.

Then again, how could they not know his secrets? Their own daughter had been his victim, even though it wasn’t to the extent that they thought. He hadn’t knocked her up, anyway. Whatever he’d done to her head—well, we’d all had people that shaped us for better or worse. Blaming another person for our own actions was selfish. We had to be responsible for our own actions. I’d learned that the hard way.

Sophia was responsible for her bitchy comments now, no matter what hard-knock story formed her. Her cattiness was disgusting and unforgivable.

But Jack was the only one who seemed to think her behavior needed to be reined in. Or the only one to say something, at least. “Just because it’s your birthday doesn’t mean you have the right to ditch being polite.”

Mira snorted. “No, she believes that merely breathing gives her that right.”

All eyes turned to the perky brunette, her face growing bright red. Mira never said anything the least bit snarky. It was surprising.

Adam coughed at her side, whether signaling her to say something else or trying to alleviate the tension, I wasn’t sure.

She looked down, sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Thank you for the apology. You’re hormonal. I don’t know what Jack’s excuse is for speaking to me so rudely.” Sophia cast a sideways glare at her husband and I wondered if it ever crossed her mind to apologize as well. Instead, even.

No, it didn’t cross her mind at all. Her expression remained unaltered, not even a flicker of remorse passing over her face.

She peered around the table, as if challenging someone to call her on it. No one did.

“Chandler,” she said as her eyes grazed the top of his head. “Put down your damn phone and be present. I want to enjoy the evening with us together. All of us.”

But her glance skidded right past me. All of us clearly meant everyone except me.

Chitchat replaced the heavier conversation after that, the attention moving away from Hudson and myself. I enjoyed my salad while Hudson talked business with Warren, and Celia bantered with Mira and Sophia. Sophia even relaxed enough that I saw hints of the carefree fun person she must have been once upon a time. So long ago now that only the smallest remnant graced her current being, hidden from anyone that didn’t bother to look hard enough.

How I could see it…well, maybe I was looking. Searching for the person that Hudson wanted to please so much, the reasons that he still kept her in his life instead of separating from her once and for all the way I had from Brian.

Hell, that wasn’t necessarily a better option. Cutting Brian from my life hurt. It was a reality I’d been ignoring for the past several days, and I shoved away the impulse to think about it now. I was at a family get-together. Of course I’d think of him. It didn’t mean I had to dwell.

Things continued with an air of banality through most of our main course. The dish Hudson had ordered for me was delicious and like nothing I’d ever tasted. Minced lobster and fish dumplings covered with a dill cream sauce. It made me want to lick my plate clean.

Hudson had ordered some sort of duck crepes. He fed me a corner of the pastry that wasn’t drenched in the mushroom sauce that accompanied it, the poultry melting in my mouth as my lips slid along his fork. “Divine.”

He watched me greedily. “I could say the same thing.”

Madge had gotten the brunt of our romantic display that evening since she sat across from us. Now she cleared her throat.

I smiled with what I hoped was an apologetic grin, though I was anything but sorry. I was well aware that Madge believed that Hudson was merely slumming with me, that he’d eventually dump me for her darling Celia. I wanted her to see me with him, knew it irked her, but I wasn’t performing for her benefit. I was simply enjoying the evening with my lover. It was genuine.

Madge returned my smile with a sour one of her own. Then she turned in her seat toward Mirabelle on the other side of her.

Pretending I wasn’t there was one way to handle me, I supposed.

“Mira,” she exclaimed, peering over Celia who sat between her and Mirabelle. “Only four more months until the newest Pierce is introduced to the world. You must be so excited!”

Mira’s hands flew instinctively to her belly. “I am!” She frowned. “But when you say four more months, I want to puke a little.”

Sophia cleared her throat with disapproval. God, correcting a full-grown woman’s language was beyond ridiculous. I wanted to puke a little myself.

Mira was used to Sophia though. “Sorry, not great dinner conversation. I wish it were sooner, that’s all. I’m anxious to have her in the world instead of sitting on my bladder.”

“It will be here soon enough. Trust me.” Unlike his wife, Adam sounded happy that he still had months to prepare.

Warren shook his head, triggered by Adam speaking. He elbowed his wife. “That’s not right, Madge. Mira’s not a Pierce anymore. It will be baby Sitkin.”

Mira’s eyes went straight to her mother. “Or Sitkin-Pierce, if we decide to hyphenate.” The look on Mira’s face said this was a conversation she’d had before. Mirabelle had kept the name Pierce for business endeavors, but the hyphenating was new. I’d bet my entire bank account that it was an attempt to please Sophia.

But nothing pleased Sophia. “It’s not the same. Sitkin-Pierce is not Pierce.” She sighed dramatically. “So the bloodline continues, but not the name.”

It was funny how concerned the woman was with a name that she’d only earned through a loveless marriage. It showed how materialistic she was, how tied she was to appearances. It was the Pierce name that held weight in the world. Any deviation lost the power that the Pierce Industry carried. In her eyes, anyway.

Adam sat forward as if about to go to battle. “Mira’s not the only Pierce offspring. Chandler could have children.”

And Hudson, I thought to myself.

“Then it will be the name but not the bloodline,” Jack said nonchalantly.

My hand flew to my mouth, stifling a gasp. There were rumors that Chandler wasn’t Jack’s child, but I didn’t know it was something the Pierce family discussed openly.


“What?” Chandler looked up from his lap where he’d been trying to hide that he was texting or whatever it was he was doing on his phone.

“Nothing,” Mira called down the table. “Go back to whatever you were doing.”

So maybe it was common knowledge to everyone but Chandler.

Sophia took another swallow of her drink—her third of the evening. “Hudson and Celia’s baby could have been both.”

I tensed. Hudson and Celia’s fictitious baby caused a fair amount of contention in the family. It had happened years ago, yet the weight of it had been so heavy that it refused to disappear. Why Celia didn’t own up and explain the baby wasn’t Hudson’s was beyond me. It pissed me off that she let him continue to save her from humiliation no matter what it cost him. I couldn’t help but throw her a glare.

Celia missed my scowl as her own eyes darted toward Hudson. Or maybe Jack. They were sitting next to each other and it was difficult to tell, but Hudson made more sense.

Jack dropped his fork to his plate, the noise clattering loudly in the quiet restaurant. “Not this again, Sophia. Really? Goddammit, I won’t listen to this.” He wiped his mouth and threw his napkin over his half-eaten food. Then he stood. “Thank you everyone, I wish I could say it has been a lovely evening, but, well, I’ll leave it at that. I’ll take care of the bill on my way out. The rest of you stay and enjoy. Order dessert. As for my wife, I’m not going to invite her to rot in hell as I probably should because I think she already lives there. At least hell is where anyone who spends time with her feels like they’ve been sent.”

He deserved a standing ovation. But he simply got open-mouthed stares as he walked away from the table.

Sophia was the first to speak. “What a drama queen.” She took a bite of her chicken. “I was merely pointing out that we had a chance at a Pierce grandchild and now it’s gone.”

“Talk about drama queen…” Though his head was bowed, Adam said it loud enough that the whole table heard it.

Sophia glared at her son-in-law, but it was Hudson who drew the attention of the table. “I could have a child with Alayna.”

I nearly choked on the bite of food in my mouth. Sure, I’d been thinking that Hudson could have a kid, but it hadn’t for a moment crossed my mind he would have one with me.

Okay, maybe it had crossed my mind for a moment. But a small one. Certainly it wasn’t a thought I’d ever share out loud.

But when Hudson had said it, had said it out loud like that to everyone, a strange warmth spread through my chest. It wasn’t the low, deep burn of desire, but something different. Something related to the love that I felt for the man, mixed with a dash of hope.

I wanted to share that feeling with him, let him know what it did to me that he’d said it, and I tried to catch his eye. But he was focused on the plate in front of him, taking another bite of his crepes as if talking about having children—children with me—was every day and unremarkable.

Maybe he didn’t mean anything by it. I felt the bubble of warmth dissipate as I recognized the possibility that he merely meant it as a line to rile his mother up. In which case, it worked.

Sophia set down her fork and turned in her chair, ire blazing through the cool mask she usually wore. “Are you talking marriage and children already? It’s early for that Hudson. Incredibly early.”

“Oh, Mother, don’t be so old-fashioned. You don’t need to be married to have children.” Hudson took a swallow of his wine, continuing the nonchalant fa?ade. But when he set down his glass again, I caught the twitch of his jaw, the only betrayal that inside he was boiling. “And what Alayna and I are discussing is frankly none of your business.”

Sophia’s eyes narrowed. “You brought it up.”

“I was stating that I could father a child and that would continue both your precious bloodline and your precious name.” His voice was oddly calm and strong all at once. I imagined it was the tone he took in the boardroom. It was powerful. Controlled. Sexy as hell.

Then he delivered his punch line. “And the only person I could ever imagine wanting to have a child with is Alayna.”

The impact wasn’t any less having heard him pronounce the possibility a moment before. It rang through the air as if every other sound had been muted, as if it were the lead violin in a string concerto. A lonely piercing sound that made people notice.

At once, all three Werners shifted in their seats, and even though Celia and Hudson were never a couple, were never meant to be together, the tension his statement created was as extreme as if the violinist’s bow had crossed against a too-taught string. It was so much. Too much.

“Hudson, I…” My voice trailed off. I had no idea what I planned to say. I just wanted the tension to end, to get rid of the general air of hatred I felt rushing at me from so many eyes.

He picked up on my cue. Placing a reassuring hand on my leg, he gave me an apologetic glance before turning back to Sophia. “The point is that you need to let the past go, Mother.” His tone was softer, but still held weight. “There is still a future to look forward to. For all of us.”

He turned back to me, our eyes locking, and then, instead of me telling him how it felt to hear him talk about a future with me, he told me. He told me with that long silent stare, his hand stroking up and down my thigh in a way that was more comforting than sexual. With that look, he said everything—how much he believed in us, how good we were. How much he loved me, even though he couldn’t yet say the words.

Then the tears that I’d managed to keep at bay earlier filled my eyes.

“If you’ll excuse me,” I said, breaking our stare. “I need to use the powder room.”

I made it to the bathroom and took a stall before the tears spilled. There weren’t many—a few, each of them happy and sweet and filled with promise. With love.

I heard the bathroom door swing open and shut a handful of times before I’d finished my brief cry. I peed and flushed, then, after washing my hands, made my way to the vanity to freshen up my face.

Fortunately, happy crying didn’t muss up my face as much as ugly crying. I continued to grin like an idiot as I leaned toward the mirror to dab at the small smudge of mascara under my left eye.

“You look perfect,” someone said behind me.

I glanced sideways, meeting Celia’s reflection in the mirror.

Immediately my smile disappeared.

“You just need a touch of gloss. I have some if you want to borrow.” She opened her tiny purse and pulled out a lipstick wand.

“No, I don’t want to borrow anything from you.” I pushed past her, headed for the exit.

But she grabbed me by the forearm. “Hey, wait!”

I pulled my arm away from her grasp but stopped my retreat. I might as well hear what she had to say, whatever grandiose excuse she had about keeping Sophia’s birthday dinner a secret from me.

Folding my arms in a dramatically bored stance, I nodded for her to speak.

Naturally poised Celia for once looked awkward, fidgeting from foot to foot.

“I’m not waiting all night. Speak.”

Her forehead creased in confusion. “Why are you angry with me? I could feel the tension all through dinner. You wouldn’t even look at me. Which is why I followed you in here. Why are you mad?”

“Don’t play dumb, Celia. It doesn’t suit you.”


“I’m not playing. Spell it out for me.” Her arms were at her sides, her body in a totally open position, as though she had nothing to hide. “Please.”

“Celia…” Was I being ridiculous? Again? Maybe I was letting myself be influenced by Stacy’s cryptic warning about the blonde beauty.

I sighed, deciding to put it out there. “I saw you today and you didn’t mention anything about this dinner tonight. And you know that I didn’t know because I told you that I had no plans to see Sophia and that I had a meeting tonight. All the while, you’re saying you’re rooting for me.” My voice was calm, straightforward, less accusatory than I felt. Maybe I was learning from Hudson.

Celia echoed my sigh. “You’re right, you’re right.” She looked at her shoes, mumbling. “I thought that might be it.” Her gaze met mine again. “I didn’t say anything, you’re right, and I should have. But you were happy and beaming and things were going good, and when I realized that Hudson hadn’t told you about the dinner, I didn’t want to stir things up between the two of you.”

“Or you wanted him for yourself tonight.”

“No! I told you, I’m not after Hudson.” She ran her hand across her forehead, delicately, as though not wanting to mess up her foundation but so used to the cautious movement she didn’t have to think about it. She was a thoroughbred through and through. So out of my league.

I dismissed the flash of envy and focused on her words.

“Look, Laynie, I’m on your side. I am. Can’t you see what would have happened if I’d brought it up? You would have cornered Hudson about it and then you’d have to tell him how you found out and that would mean you’d have to tell him about us chatting about him behind his back. And he brought you anyway! So it all worked out. Everything’s good!”

“Yeah, everything’s great.” I reacted before I’d truly digested her words. Once I did, I saw the truth in what she’d said. Honestly, if our roles had been reversed, I would have probably done the same.

I bit my lip. “God, I’m sorry. I just…I don’t know who to trust. It feels like so many people are against us.”

Her face eased, her worry replaced with a comforting smile. “That’s so not true. Sophia is against you. She’s the only one. And my parents, but they’re only trying to do what they think is best for me. It’s a silly parent thing. They don’t understand. Obviously.”

She meant they didn’t understand that she’d never been with Hudson. They didn’t realize that her baby had not been his. “Why won’t you tell them? It’s been years, you said so yourself. Why don’t you or Hudson admit the truth about the baby?” I’d been wondering about it since I found out. It would solve so many problems. “If you really cared about his happiness, you’d tell the truth and set him free.”

“It seems like that would be the right thing to do, doesn’t it?” Her eyes glazed over as she was thinking, remembering perhaps. When her focus returned, her expression was apologetic. “It’s…it’s complicated. I can’t say more than that. I’m sorry, I wish I could. But it involves more than just me. You have to trust me, this is best for everyone. Hudson included.”

It bothered me that there might be something about the situation that I didn’t know, that Hudson hadn’t chosen to share. But maybe Celia was simply making up excuses, not ready to let her parents know the truth. “Like I said, I don’t know what I trust.”

“Alayna—”

I cringed at her use of my name. No one called me Alayna but Hudson. It wasn’t hers to use. It was his.

The door swung open behind us and someone walked in. We were both quiet until the woman took an empty stall.

“This is a bad time. But you have my number. Call me if you need anything. To sort things out or just to talk.”

I hesitated. The evening had shown me many things, one of which was how easily keeping secrets could tear Hudson and me apart. I didn’t want to keep lying to him. Perhaps this was a good opportunity to end my friendship with Celia. Maybe even come clean about our lunch dates thus far.

Seeming to sense my reluctance to “kiss and make up,” Celia put her hand over mine. “I want things to work out for Hudson more than you can imagine. Believe me.”

Celia gave one more sparkling white smile before exiting the restroom.

I pulled my phone out from my bra and considered deleting her contact info. It was certainly the safest. But, on the other hand, she’d been helpful to me providing insight that I lacked. And she was important to Hudson. I didn’t want to cause problems by being a divide between them.

Funny. The old me would have done just that. The old me, the one before therapy—that me would have made Hudson choose. Her or me. Now, as nice as it sounded to be free of the Werners, I had no desire to force an ultimatum.

And besides being incredibly unrealistic and unhealthy, I was pretty sure Hudson would never go for it.