Текст книги "Forever with You"
Автор книги: Laurelin Paige
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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 22 страниц)
Chapter Twenty
Liesl was an angel.
She calmed me down enough to get me out of the building without drawing attention from the employees. I barely had the strength to walk, and she let me lean on her as we went to the curb and got into the cab that David hailed for us. She didn’t make any jabs about being pulled away early from the party, nor did she try to get me to talk about what happened. Instead, she pulled my head into her lap and smoothed my hair while I cried all the way to her apartment in Brooklyn.
Once inside her place, Liesl tucked me into her bed with a glass of straight tequila. Though she had a futon in her living room, she stayed with me all night. She spooned behind me, and when I woke up from the little bouts of sleep I managed to get, her warm presence calmed my screams to sobs. I hadn’t grieved and mourned that much since the death of my parents. Even then, I hadn’t known the level of betrayal that I felt now.
That was the worst part of it, the betrayal. If I’d heard the story earlier from Hudson, at a point in our relationship where I hadn’t put everything on the line, then I may have been able to survive it. I’d still have left him—I couldn’t possibly be with him after that—but it would have been so much easier to survive. Leaving it as long as he did, especially when we’d talked at end about honesty and transparency—that was the ultimate betrayal. That was the deepest cut.
But the loss of the man I loved so desperately came as a close second.
The first two days were a blur. Liesl cooked for me and forced food down my throat. She listened to my story as I told it, in spurts, piecing it together as best she could, again without pressing. Throughout it all, she refilled my glass any time I asked. In a rare moment where I managed to focus on something other than my heartache, it occurred to me to wonder if that was why my father had spent his life drinking—had he been trying to block out some sort of pain? What had hurt him? Wasn’t it sad that I’d never know?
The rest of my thoughts were mismatches of memories and realizations. Sweet recollections turned sour with the new information layered on top. I relived every conversation that I’d had with Hudson a dozen times. Sometimes all I could do was cry. At other moments, I became angry. I broke more than one glass throwing it in rage.
Once even, I considered taking a broken piece and slitting it across my skin. Maybe not too deep.
Or maybe exactly too deep.
Thankfully Liesl was there to clean up the fragments before I managed to steal any away. Besides, I didn’t really want to end things—I just wanted to end the pain.
Eventually, I began trying to piece things together. Tried to figure out what was real and what wasn’t. Imagined how and where Celia had fit into my relationship with Hudson. Like the way he’d condoned my jealousies, the way he supported my snooping. Encourage her obsession, I imagined Celia saying. Don’t get mad or upset if she shows any of her crazy traits.
And the way she knew to throw his pet name in my face. Had that been her idea as well? Give her a pet name. Something like angel or precious.
I remembered Sophia’s birthday—Hudson had spoken with Celia then, and when we came home he’d been distant. Had she reminded him of the game then? What he was really supposed to be doing with me?
To his credit, Hudson hadn’t lied. His exact words came back to me with full force: “I will be saying and doing things—romantic things, perhaps—that are not genuine. I need you to remember that. Out of the public eye, I will seduce you. That will be genuine, but it can never be misconstrued as love.”
When had that changed? When had his false romancing become true? Had it ever? Was he at this very moment celebrating with his partner in crime—toasting to the complete and utter destruction of my soul?
That was the crux of my heartache—I’d never know. There was nothing to hold on to with fondness because the authenticity of every moment we’d spent together was up for debate. I couldn’t believe anything he’d said or did. He’d so expertly administered his manipulation it was impossible to see the real story underneath the formulated one.
That plain and utter truth was what kept me refilling my glass.
By Tuesday night, I sobered up enough to acknowledge some of my responsibilities. I propped myself against the headboard of Liesl’s bed and called her from the kitchen into her room. “The club…” I started to say.
She leaned her head against the doorframe. “I already called in sick for you.”
God, she was amazing.
She’d told the truth. I could barely get out of bed, let alone leave the apartment. And I’d cried so hard that I’d thrown up more than once. That had to count as sick.
Knowing that burden was off my plate, I considered resuming my drinking and sleeping. But as I scratched an itch at the top of my head, I discovered my hair was matted and dirty—I really needed a shower. And a change of clothes. Did I care? Yeah, I kind of did. That was progress, right?
But I had nothing of mine at Liesl’s apartment. “Do you have something I can wear if I take a shower?”
She nodded encouragingly. “Anything in my closet’s yours.” Cleaning up would be as much to her benefit as mine. I smelled pretty rank.
The shower hurt as much as it helped. Though it made me feel better, it cleared my mind enough to worry about the future. Where was I going to live? Where was I going to work? Could I go back to The Sky Launch? I’d had the club before Hudson had come into my life—I didn’t want to give that up. But even if he let me work there, could I be there anymore?
Maybe. Maybe not.
First things first. I couldn’t stay holed up in Liesl’s room. I moved to the futon that night.
“My bed is yours, babe,” she said as I pulled the mattress into a prone position.
It was tempting to take her up on that. But I stayed surprisingly strong. “I already feel bad about overtaking your place. Besides, I need to start trying to function a little bit on my own. Even if that only means being in my own bed.”
“Suit yourself.” She threw me a pillow from her closet. “And you’re welcome here as long as you want.”
I wrapped my arms around the pillow and fell onto the futon. “I think it’s going to be a while, Liesl. Are you sure about the offer?”
“Yep.”
At least that took care of living arrangements for a bit. I’d have to arrange to pick up my things from the penthouse at some point. I didn’t have much, but I needed my clothes. Not the items that had been bought by him—I didn’t want those—but the rest of my stuff.
And I needed to get a new phone. My current one also came from Hudson. I didn’t want anything to do with it. I’d already given it to Liesl and asked her to hang on to it for me. If Hudson had decided to ignore my request and call, I wouldn’t even know. I didn’t want to know.
Then there was Celia’s possible lawsuit…
I sat up. “Have the police been looking for me?” Hudson had said he’d take care of it, but I didn’t trust a word he said anymore.
Liesl sat down at the foot of the futon. “Nope, and they won’t be.” She answered my questioning look. “Hudson called me on my cell yesterday morning. He wanted me to tell you that he’d gotten the whole battery charge dismissed.”
So he knows where I am. Of course he did. It wasn’t that hard to figure out where I’d go. And I had the feeling Hudson wasn’t the kind of guy you could hide from very easily.
I couldn’t help myself. I had to know. “Did he say anything else?”
“He said lots of things. I decided you weren’t interested in hearing any of it.”
“Good thinking. I wasn’t.” I leaned back on my elbows. “But I am now. What did he say?”
“That he wanted to give you your space, but that he’s anxious to talk to you when—if—you want to. That he’ll do anything you want him to for the club, even if that includes doing nothing. That you’re welcome to come back to the penthouse—he’s staying at his other place.”
“The loft.” The offer of the penthouse was a waste of his breath. I had no desire to be anywhere I’d been with him. Except maybe the club. I still hadn’t decided about that yet.
“Yeah, the loft.” She lowered her eyes. “He also insisted that I tell you he loves you.”
“I don’t want to hear that.” Even knowing it was a lie, it still had impact. My stomach tightened and my eyes watered. And some stupid little spot in my chest flickered with a spark of…I don’t know…hope, maybe? It surprised me. Disgusted me. After everything, how could there be any part of me that still wanted his love to be true?
Liesl grinned. “That’s what I told him.” Her mouth straightened to a tight line. “He said it didn’t make it any less true.”
That night when I cried myself to sleep, it wasn’t the betrayal that kept the tears coming—it was the loneliness. My lips burned for Hudson’s mouth, my breasts ached for his touch, my entire body pulsed with isolation. And instead of wishing I’d never met the man, that I’d never heard his name, I wished I’d never found out the truth. Ignorance, it turned out, truly could be bliss.
* * *
“I told you it sucks,” Gwen said when I called in sick on Wednesday.
I didn’t follow. “What sucks?” I should have had Liesl call in for me again. This talking to people thing was harder than I’d comprehended.
Gwen delivered her response in sing-song voice. “Love, darling. L-o-v-e, love. Worst thing ever.”
Guess my claim of the flu wasn’t fooling her. “Yeah. It really does.”
* * *
Thursday I almost seemed like a real person again. A broken, distraught person, but that was better than the sobbing lump that I’d been the days before. Now I could feed myself and I even managed to drink something other than alcohol.
Liesl had seemed to think I was ready to be pushed further. “You need a distraction. A release. Like maybe you should pet the pussy. I could loan you my vibrator while I’m at work tonight.”
I cringed. “Um, no thanks.”
“Then we could drive to Atlantic City this weekend and check out David’s new place. You know he’d fuck your brains out if you asked.”
“First of all, David doesn’t fuck anyone’s brains out.” Though I’d never slept with him, I’d been with him enough in a sexual sense to know he was a total puppy dog.
“Secondly, I don’t ever want to have sex with anyone ever again.” Hudson had ruined sex for me—there would never be anyone better, no one more serving and demanding and fulfilling. It had been the place where things had been real for us—even now, with all the lies, I believed that. Anyone who tried to come in after would be a sorry comparison.
And there was a third thing—Saturday was the day of Mira’s Grand Reopening. I couldn’t go, of course. That would be ridiculous to even consider. But telling her was going to be hard. Since it was already Thursday, I probably couldn’t put it off any longer.
With a deep breath, I held my hand out to Liesl. “Speaking of the weekend—can I borrow your phone? I need to call Mira.”
She handed me her cell. I looked up Mirabelle’s Boutique and pressed the button to dial. This would be a true test of my strength. Mira had been so pro-Alayna-and-Hudson that she was likely as devastated as I was. Well, not quite that devastated, but nearly. And knowing her and her love-conquers-all attitude, she’d probably try to convince me we could work things out.
Maybe I didn’t want to call her after all.
“Mirabelle’s. This is Mira.” Too late to hang up now.
“Hey, Mira.”
“Laynie!” she exclaimed with her usual bubbly, happy tone. “I was going to call you and check in. Great minds. I have your dress altered and ready for you—do you want to pick it up before Saturday or change here that day? Or I could have it sent to you by courier.”
Dammit. Hudson hadn’t told her the news of our breakup. What the fuck?
I definitely didn’t want to be the one to tell her that. But now I kind of had to.
“I…Mira…” I was having trouble finding the words. I decided to start somewhere else. “I can’t do your event. I’m sorry. I called to cancel.” Then, after a swallow, “Hudson and I…we broke up.” Why did it hurt so much more to say it out loud?
I swallowed again, bracing myself for Mira’s reaction.
“I know,” she said softly. Then she immediately perked up again. “Which is why I banned him from the store on Saturday. I don’t give a shit if he makes it to my event. But you—Laynie, I have to have you here. Please say you’ll still come. It would mean so much to me.”
My mouth went dry. I was not emotionally equipped to handle shock. Or anyone being nice to me. “Mira, no,” I floundered. “That’s not right. You can’t keep your own brother from your special day.”
“Yes, I can,” she insisted. “He doesn’t care about fashion. He does care about me. And you.”
Ah, there was the Mira I’d been expecting.
I clamped my eyes shut to ward off a new set of tears. “Please, don’t say that. I don’t want to hear about his supposed emotions.”
“Okay, okay. That’s fine. I wasn’t trying to meddle. I was simply trying to tell you that he already offered to not come before I banned him. He said he wanted me and you to be happy and so he was bowing out. Yes, I’d rather have you both there. Of course I would. But if it comes to you or him, I definitely choose you. You’re one of my models, and more importantly, you’re my friend. You’re like a sister, Laynie.”
I warred with my options. When I called, there’d been no way in hell that I planned to go to Mira’s event. I couldn’t be there with him. It would be impossible to be a model under those circumstances.
But her speech…
We had become friends, and I had hoped that we’d one day be sisters. She’d done a lot for me and Hudson, but truly, she’d also done a lot for just me. And maybe doing this for her would help me with closure.
“All right. I’ll do it.” Did I really fucking just say that? “But you better swear to god that he will not be there. And this better not be a trick to get us together.”
“I swear he will not be there. Swear on my baby.” She paused. “Though that tricking you to get you together idea...”
“Mira—”
“I’m just kidding.” Her smile was evident in her voice. “Yay! Thank you, Laynie.”
“You’re welcome.” Sort of. “But don’t expect a cheery model.”
“You can do the serious/somber thing. I’m totes okay with that.” She lowered her voice. “And for the record, I don’t know what that fucker did to mess things up with the two of you, but he’s a miserable wreck about it. I mean, completely and utterly broken up.”
For half a second, I actually felt joy. Was it because I was happy the asshole was as miserable as I was or because I thought his misery said something about how he felt for me?
It would kill me if I kept wondering about the validity of any of his emotions. I had to stop thinking about it. “Mira, if you’re going to keep telling me about him, I’m going to cancel.”
“No! Don’t do that.” She sounded panicked. “Just had to get that out there. I’m done now.”
“Okay, but no more.” Please, no more. Another deep breath. “I’ll change there on Saturday.”
She squealed. “I’m so excited! See you then.”
I almost smiled as I hung up.
“Well, look at that,” Liesl said as I handed her phone back. “You have some color in your cheeks.”
“It’s not possible.” I scrubbed my hands over my face. God, mourning was exhausting. And boring as hell. I had to find a way to move on. Mira’s event was a good first step. But I needed to take some other steps.
Like figure out what to do with the rest of my life.
Just thinking the thought seemed overwhelming. A tear rolled down my cheek. Seriously? Wasn’t I about fucking cried out yet?
But it had to be done. I grabbed a Kleenex and dabbed at my eye. “I, um, I want to go to work.”
Liesl cleared her throat. “Are you sure?” My tears probably had her unconvinced.
“Not tonight. But tomorrow, yeah. I need to see if I can be there. I don’t think I can make a good decision about my future at the club without trying a shift out.”
Through all my struggles with obsessive love addiction, The Sky Launch had been my sanity. It had been the only thing to ground me when I’d been free falling. Now, as I was falling again, couldn’t it be the place to save me again?
If not, I had to find out what could. Because already, I was getting that restless feeling in the pit of my stomach—that anxious tickle that marked me as an addict no matter how healthy I was. It was another sign that it was time to start figuring out my future.
When Liesl went into work that night, I forced myself to find something to do other than sleep and cry. Something other than remember. I turned on Spotify and found something to download on my Kindle app since Liesl had no books in her apartment.
But I couldn’t get into the novel. And nothing else on the Internet or on TV was enough to occupy my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking, and as I moved through the grieving process, my thoughts turned obsessive, as they always did when I was hurting. Some of them weren’t even clearly formed but were instead only rough impulses. The urge to see him, for example. Not to talk to him, but to look at him from a distance. The urge to smell him again. The urge to hear his voice.
The yearning drove me mad.
And it pissed me off.
Because I was stronger than this. I was stronger than Hudson Pierce and Celia Werner. I would not let them pull me down to the person that I once was.
She thought she could destroy me?
Well, fuck that. I’d survived heartache before. I could survive it again.
Adrenaline surged through me, and I suddenly felt invincible. Or capable at least—invincible was going a bit too far. But “Roar” by Katy Perry came on my playlist, and I did jump around the room singing at the top of my lungs.
It felt good. Invigorating. Energizing.
Then “So Easy” by Phillip Phillips came on, and immediately my strength disappeared. “You make it so easy…” he sang, and all I heard was Hudson saying it to me.
And it was all a lie.
I dissolved into a mess of snot and ugly tears. Well, another night of crying wasn’t the worst thing in the world. There was always tomorrow to be strong.
Chapter Twenty-One
The next day, I didn’t feel stronger, but I did feel resolved.
Planning the future still seemed overwhelming, but I could handle today. Baby steps. It’s what I’d learned in therapy. It was something I knew how to do.
On paper and in pencil, I broke down the hours. It helped to look at it written down so it didn’t feel bigger than it was. I started at the bottom of the page since I’d already decided to go to the club.
8 p.m. to 3 a.m. work, I wrote.
Before that I’d go to a group meeting. I looked online and found one at six that evening. Perfect. I filled it in above my work shift.
At the top of the page I wrote in: breakfast, shower, dress.
Then: sneak over to the penthouse to get some clothes.
Even writing the last thing had been hard. To say it sounded daunting was an understatement. The Bowery had been the place where Hudson and I had really begun sharing our life. It would be filled with painful reminders.
But going through the memories, dealing with them—that was part of healing.
Getting through the first line of items was easier than I’d expected. Breakfast actually stayed down, and I managed to find a pair of drawstring shorts in Liesl’s drawer that didn’t fall off my waist.
“Do you want me to go with you?” Liesl offered around a bite of a bagel.
“No. I need to do this by myself.” I threw my still wet hair into a ponytail. “I’ll need you for the next time—when I get all my stuff. But this time, I’m just going to run in and pack a bag to get me through a few days. It’ll feel good to finally wear panties again.”
I stood up and looked at my bare feet. “Shit. I only have my heels from the party.”
“I’ll loan you some shoes.”
“We don’t have the same size feet.” Liesl was much taller than me, with a larger frame. If it weren’t for the drawstring, I’d be drowning in her shorts.
She kicked off the flip-flops she was wearing. “You can wear these. They’re like one-size-fits-many.”
“Fine.” I slid my feet into them. They’d do. “Okay. I’m off. Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need luck. You got this.” She pulled me in for a hug. “You’re sure he won’t be there?”
“Positive.” I’d called Norma for that. She’d checked with Hudson’s secretary and reported back that he had a meeting in his office all afternoon. And he’d told Liesl he wasn’t staying at the penthouse. If I believed him, which I didn’t necessarily, then he wouldn’t be there no matter what. It was possible that he hadn’t even been back there after L.A. I guess I’d find out soon enough.
Since it was still early in the day, I took my time getting to the penthouse. I took the subway instead of a cab and didn’t rush to meet the connecting train. But as much as I dillydallied, I eventually arrived at my destination.
The memories started before I made it inside the building. I stood outside staring at the letters engraved on the stone above the door. The Bowery. In many ways it felt like the first time I’d been there, when I was nervous and anxious and unaware of what waited for me inside. Then though, my stomach fluttered with butterflies. Today it was filled with rolling stones. Though both had my tummy in motion, there was a definite difference in gravity. One feeling lifted me up. The other pulled me down, anchored me to my dismal reality.
With a final breath of fresh air, I headed in.
On the elevator ride up, I decided I’d be no-nonsense about my task. As soon as the door opened inside the penthouse, I headed straight to my closet. I put on some underwear and changed into a dress and shoes suitable for work. Then I packed a duffel bag with a few items to get me through the next week. I was done and ready to go in less than fifteen minutes.
But a sudden wave of nostalgia kept me from leaving without doing a final look around. I told myself it was the smart thing to do—in case I found something that I wanted to take with me.
Yeah, that was it.
The place was almost exactly the way I’d left it, except the cleaning lady had been through. The trashcans and dishwasher had been emptied. The only sign of disarray was the books I’d left out in the library. All clean and immaculate like that, the apartment felt empty, abandoned. Lonely. The warmth that had once filled it was gone. It seemed staged. Like a model home that no one really lived in. Like nothing special or beautiful had ever happened there.
It could be anyone’s home. Nothing reflected us. How had I never noticed this before?
It was fitting, I supposed, to feel so empty.
Except it deepened my sorrow. I’d been prepared to walk in and be met with the ghosts of our past. That they weren’t there rocked me.
Suddenly, I felt desperate to find a sign of us somewhere—anywhere. I set down my bag and ran back to our bedroom. I threw myself onto the made bed and buried my face in a pillow. It smelled clean. The bedding had been changed since we’d last slept there together. In Hudson’s closet, I found only rows of clean clothes and an empty hamper. Finally, in the bathroom, I found a bottle of his body wash. I opened it and breathed in the scent.
My knees buckled. God, it was him and not him all at once. The smell permeated into my skin, reawakening every memory of him, rekindling feelings that I wanted to forget.
In that moment, though, I didn’t want to forget. I wanted to embrace everything I had left of him. And this scent wasn’t enough. It was missing the most important part. I wanted more, all of it. And I couldn’t find it here.
I recognized the emotion immediately—the desperate urge. I could make it go away if I tried hard enough, if I refocused, if I concentrated on my substitute list.
But I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to follow the urge, to let it lead me where I needed to go. For once, I wanted to give in to it instead of constantly fighting it. Wanted to fall into the comfort of the old pattern and let it swallow me.
Maybe, just today, I could let it take me away. I could go to the loft, slip in while Hudson was in his meetings, and feel him in the place that he’d been living. Look for traces of his existence. Smell him and sense him.
It wasn’t healthy, but it would only be one time. One time wouldn’t destroy me. And after that, I could move on. I’d go to my group meeting and get back on track and my new life—my life without Hudson—could really begin.
It sounded divine. Like a guilty pleasure. No worse than eating a whole tub of Ben and Jerry’s straight from the carton. Without any more thought, I decided to do it. Then I flagged down a cab and headed to the Pierce Industries building before I could change my mind.
I was grateful that Norma had told me about Hudson’s afternoon meeting. It made the chance of bumping into him not an issue. He’d be wrapped up in his business whatnot, never knowing I was right above him. It added to the appeal.
As soon as I opened the front door of the loft, I felt it. The thing I’d been missing—Hudson’s presence. It lingered in the air, not just his scent, but the warmth of him. It made the hair stand up on my arms and made my skin tingle. It was exactly what I’d longed for.
Setting my duffel by the front door, I explored further, remembering and putting to memory the place where we’d shared our first time. I trailed my hand along the back of his leather couch as I passed. Then I trailed my other hand over the papers on his desk as I went deeper into the loft. At the back, I found the private elevator. It led to one place only—down to his office. That’s how close he was. I placed my palm on the cool metal.
How close. How far away.
In the kitchen, I lingered over a half empty mug of coffee on the counter. He drank from this. His lips had touched the rim. I lifted the cup to my face, pressing it against my cheek. It was cold, but I could imagine it hot. Imagine him sipping at it gently, carefully.
I knew I was acting crazy, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t stop myself even if I did care.
Soon, I made it to the bedroom. The room he’d first taken me in. He’d been both amazing and overwhelming. I’d felt out of my league, and yet, I couldn’t help but try to fit into his world in the way he’d wanted me.
My eyes glanced toward the bathroom. If I went in there now, would the scent of clean Hudson still be lingering from his morning shower? I’d go there next.
But first, the bed…
I fell across the mattress. This time when I inhaled, he was there in abundance. I wrapped my arms tight around his pillow and closed my eyes, breathing him in and out and in. And out. The scent soothed me, calmed me. The ache in my chest released ever so slightly. The tension behind my temples abated. For the first time in days, I felt okay.
Closing my eyes, I let the fantasy wash over me. Let myself forget the hurt and betrayal and pretended Hudson and I could be together again in all the ways we used to be. I imagined his lips on me—phantom kisses along my neck and down my torso that sent shivers down my spine and caused my toes to curl. Then his hands, caressing and kneading my body, reawakening my skin with his simple touch. Adoring me physically but with so much concentration and attention that the effort had to come from true and pure love.
I was still lying on the bed, lost in my daydream, when the private elevator arrived in the next room.
My eyes flew open. Had I imagined it?
Then Hudson’s voice filled the air.
Fuck!
And he was talking to someone—he wasn’t alone.
I scrambled off the bed and crouched by the floor considering what to do next. It sounded like he was still in the back of the loft, near the kitchen. I crawled to the wall next to the doorframe. There I could peek out and get a better idea of the situation and still stay hidden from the living area. As long as they didn’t come in the bedroom, I’d be fine.
But if they did come in the bedroom…
Gathering my courage, I peeked out and saw Hudson standing in front of the open refrigerator. He grabbed a bottle of water and turned toward his guest—toward me.
I pulled my head back around the corner. Did he see me? No, I didn’t think so.
Shit, shit, shit. All I could do was swear. And pray.
And eavesdrop.
“I haven’t been here in a while.” I hadn’t gotten a chance to look at his visitor, but I knew who it was from her voice. “I’d forgotten what a good job I’d done with the place.” Celia Werner.
My chest tightened and my eyes began to water.
I was gone barely a week, and he was bringing her to his loft? Why? To celebrate the slaughter of my soul? To plan their next game?
To connect?
Each possibility was worse than the last. This was heartache on top of heartache. Salt on the wound. A lesson to teach me not to give into my urges again.
Celia’s heels clicked on the cement floor.
Where was she going? I held my breath, my heart pounding. Maybe I should hide out in the bathroom. Then they wouldn’t see me if they came this way. But then I couldn’t hear what they were saying. And, besides, if they did need the bed…
God, I couldn’t think about that.
“Remember how I had to convince you to go with the leather couch?” she asked.
She was in the living area. If they stayed right there, I could pull this off.
“We’re not here for a walk down memory lane.” Hudson’s voice was cold.
Her footsteps paused. “Why are we here?”
Yes, Hudson, do tell. Though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
“Because we have some things to talk about, and they aren’t suitable for my office.”
“Then I can’t help but think of old times. Other conversations that weren’t appropriate for your office.” Her heels clicked again and then stopped. Then the leather of the sofa creaked as she took a seat.
I let out the breath I’d been holding.
Now Hudson’s shoes sounded on the floor. “If you want to relive those times, then do it on your own.” His voice got nearer.
Shit, fuck, dammit! He was headed my way.
But then I heard the rattling of ice in a glass. Slowly, I turned my head to the side. He was there—not ten feet away, fixing himself a drink at the bar. If he looked over and down, he’d see me.
I froze, not blinking, not even breathing; willing myself to fade into the wall. My heart thudded so loudly, I was certain he could hear it.
