Текст книги "Hudson"
Автор книги: Laurelin Paige
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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 26 страниц)
There was another reason, and that reason was standing in front of me—her face thin and ashen. Her eyes heavier than I’d remembered them, her smile not as easy as it had once been. I’d chided her for blaming anyone but herself for her predicament, but wasn’t I also culpable? If I hadn’t set the dominos in motion, she’d never have gone to Mabel Shores that night. She’d never have climbed into my father’s bed. She wouldn’t be pregnant now.
Did I care that I held responsibility? Maybe. Maybe I couldn’t care for people in the way that others could, but I did have some sense of duty. I couldn’t explain it, even to myself.
I’d never try to explain it to anyone else.
“Hudson?” Celia prodded me for an answer since I’d been quiet so long.
“I heard you.” I swallowed and raised my eyes to hers. “The family name.” And because I was uncomfortable with the course of my self-examination, I turned spiteful. “Pierce is my legacy. I wouldn’t want it poisoned by my father’s mistakes.”
She sneered and opened her mouth to likely deliver an equally caustic jab.
But I jumped in before her. “Let’s give our families Thanksgiving. We can tell them on Friday. I’ll call you tomorrow to arrange the details of our announcement.” I turned and straightened my bow tie in the mirror. There would be no going back to the event for me, and I wasn’t going to leave Celia behind. “I’ll walk you out.”
We didn’t say another word to each other until she was seated in the backseat of a cab and I was about to shut the door.
“Hudson?”
I bent toward her. “What?”
“Thank you.” Her lip quivered and her eyes glossed, and I remembered that Celia wasn’t like me. She had emotions, she had feelings. This situation was probably more to her than the inconvenience it was for me. A rush of…something…swept through me. Something not quite comfortable. Like I was listening to Schubert’s Adagio for Strings while battling the flu.
More and more lately, the depth of my own ability to feel surprised me. I didn’t like it.
I nodded once and looked for the thing she needed me to say. “Congratulations, Ceeley,” I managed. “Everything’s going to be just fine.”
I didn’t have to try to sound sincere. I was.
Chapter Twelve
After
Alayna’s hand on my back—even through my shirt and jacket—stuns my skin to life. I turn to look at her, wishing we were elsewhere, anywhere but here at my mother’s charity fashion show. This event has been planned for weeks to be the kick-off for the charade within the charade. It was Celia’s choice, not mine. I would have preferred a private introduction for Alayna and Sophia Pierce. Not this extravaganza of people. Celia wanted it for exactly that reason—it gave her the excuse to be present. She wants to see the game in action; I get that. It was always the best part. But her nearness reminds me what this really is. Reminds me that my relationship with Alayna is an experiment.
No, that’s not correct. My relationship with Alayna is not what happens here—it’s what happens in private. That is our reality. This is only a show. And both of us know that.
But it’s hard to remember that when she’s running her hand across my shoulder like this. I should tell her to stop, even though I don’t blame her. I have the hardest time concentrating on anything that isn’t her when she’s near. Even when she’s not near, actually—all I think about, all I long for, is her.
Her touch has awakened my constant desire for her. I don’t care who might see. I don’t care where it will lead. I don’t care that I’ll likely regret the hard-on I’ll get from kissing her luscious mouth. I place my hand on her thigh and lean in to take her lips.
“Oh, you don’t need to be all PDA on my account,” a familiar voice interrupts me. “Remember, I know.”
I stiffen. I shouldn’t be as angry as I am at Celia’s arrival. I’m surprised she hasn’t shown up sooner. There’s no reason for her to interact with us though. No reason for her to take the seat next to Alayna as she is now. I’m not happy about it, and the look I share with my old friend doesn’t hide my irritation.
Alayna removes her hand from my body and I’m instantly disappointed. I can’t withdraw so easily, strengthening my grip on her leg, maintaining our connection.
“I’m Celia,” she says to Alayna. “I thought we should probably meet. Though it doesn’t look like Hudson’s too keen on it.”
Celia’s trying too hard. What is she trying to prove?
And what do I care? If she screws this up, the experiment’s over, and I can concentrate on my real relationship with Alayna instead of this farce. That thought perks me up. “No, you’re right. You should meet.” I stroke Alayna’s thigh as I speak, claiming her as mine. “Now you’ve met.”
“You aren’t getting rid of me that easily, you oaf.” Celia smirks. She turns to Alayna. “Believe it or not, we’re actually friends.”
Friends. Is that what we are? It’s how I’ve always referred to her. She knows my secrets; I know hers. We share a bond. I suppose it’s the closest thing to friendship that I know. Perhaps that’s why I tolerate her as I do—for the sake of friendship. Except it’s more than that. We’re tied together. I tolerate her because I have no choice.
Sighing, I enter into the game. “What do you want, Ceeley?” It’s a double-edged question that fits the scene we’re playing, as well as our personal play.
“I wanted to personally thank Alayna for this whole charade.” There’s a gleam in Celia’s eye and I find myself worrying for Alayna. She held her own against my mother’s bitchy insults. Can she handle Celia as well?
I tense as she leans toward Alayna. “You can’t know how dreadful the idea of marrying that pain in the ass has been,” she says with a teasing grin.
Alayna returns a nervous smile. “Um, I can imagine. He’s not the settling-down type.”
Her statement bothers me. It shouldn’t, because it’s true. This strange connection with Alayna has made me forget who I am. I take my hand from her leg. Maybe that will make it easier to remember.
“Wow,” Celia laughs. “You already know him so well.”
“It’s nice to talk to someone else who knows,” Alayna says.
“But isn’t Hudson amazingly good at pretending?” Celia’s line is for me. It’s a game within a game within a game. She’s pushing my buttons and I have no idea what her motive is.
And Alayna’s caught in the middle. “He is. Quite good.”
I don’t like Alayna’s subtext. Does she think that what we have isn’t real? I can’t defend our relationship. Not here in front of Celia. But I can’t get us out of here.
“I’d love to continue this wonderfully entertaining conversation, but I see someone I need to talk some business with.” I stand and hold my hand out. “Alayna?”
She doesn’t move. “Go ahead, H. I’ll hang with Celia.”
“We’ll be fine,” Celia insists. “And we’ll end our conversation with a pretend catfight if you want to up the charade.”
What I want is to pull my lover out of her chair and drag her away from my so-called friend. Can I really leave them together? “No catfight. In my script, you’re friendly toward each other.”
“Then she and I should sit and chat, since we’re supposed to be friends.” Celia winks at Alayna, and my fist balls at my side. “Right, Alayna?”
“Right.” Alayna returns the wink. “And since we’re friends, you should call me Laynie.”
Aw, fuck. Celia’s good—I forget that sometimes. Why wouldn’t Alayna fall under her spell?
I have no choice but to leave them. Together. Alone. “Friendly, not friends.” I take a deep breath but it doesn’t help. “Fine. I’ll be back shortly.”
Since I hadn’t really spotted a business associate, I make my way to the lobby bar. It’s crowded and I have to stand in line. While I wait, I send a text to my assistant to get some gourmet coffee and leave it at Alayna’s door. She’s wearing an elastic band to remind herself to get some, and if things go as I plan, she’ll be too worn out to get any later. Plus the gift will keep her thinking about me while I’m in Cincinnati the next few days.
My chest clenches at the thought of time without her. I consider asking her to come with me and quickly dismiss the idea. She has a job and I have my own work. I’ve never taken a woman on a business trip with me; why would I start now?
And what the fuck is Celia talking to Alayna about?
I’m anxious and on edge. When I get my Scotch, I down it quickly. The burn feels good, feels appropriate. It also does what I mean for it to do—it calms me.
Why am I worried about leaving Celia and Alayna alone anyway? Maybe it’s even a good thing. Celia will feel like she’s a part of the scheme. She’ll feed Alayna details that make our story more believable. There’s nothing that could go wrong.
Still, I can’t shake the feeling that everything’s at risk. Celia is the only person who can expose me. That’s never been a concern for me before. I’ve never cared what people knew about me. If someone discovered my sadistic experiments, what did it hurt me?
With Alayna, I care. I don’t want her to know my secrets. I want to protect her from that hideous side of me. I will protect her.
But then I see Alayna rushing toward the exit. I try to convince myself she’s simply looking for me, that my mother came back and delivered a snide remark. Except my mother is standing on the other side of the foyer and has been there the whole time I’ve been at the bar.
I reach out and gently take Alayna’s arm. “Where are you going?”
She throws me off of her. “Don’t touch me!”
“Whoa.” I put my hands up in surrender. There’s no way this can be what I imagine it to be. No way would Celia tell her this was all a scam. So I just have to figure out what really happened and then I can make it right. “What’s wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with you would be the more appropriate question.” Alayna’s eyes dart to the door.
“Alayna.” I hush my voice and step toward her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you’re making a scene. You need to calm down and save whatever this is for later.”
I start to take her elbow, but she pulls away. “There isn’t going to be a later—I quit.” She runs past me and out the doors.
“Alayna!” I don’t care that I’m shouting as I follow her outside. I don’t even care that my mother is watching all of this. All that matters is stopping Alayna.
I’m about to reach for her again when she turns to me on her own. Her eyes are filled with tears and my stomach tightens. What has hurt her? I know somehow that it’s me and I can’t bear to hear it from her lips. Yet I need to know.
“Tell me, Hudson, did you pick me because you thought my obsession issues would make your game more fun? Because really, where’s the challenge in that?”
Rage travels through me like a bolt of lightning. “Fuck Celia and her big mouth.” A million questions flood my mind—how much did Celia say? Why would she reveal our scam? How the hell do I fix this?
I step toward Alayna. She backs away. I soften my approach, reaching out to her with words. “Let’s talk about this in the limo.”
“I don’t want—”
“Alayna. It’s not fair of you to listen to a stranger tell her story and not give me a chance to explain.” I don’t know how to beg, so I command. “I’m telling you we will talk about this in the limo which is parked in the lot next door. First, because my mother is watching, I’m going to bend down and kiss your forehead. Then I’m going to walk over and tell her that you aren’t feeling well. I will meet you in the car.”
She peers over my shoulder, likely confirming my mother’s standing at the doors behind us. Then she gives a slight nod. I lean in and kiss her on the forehead and wonder if this will be our last kiss.
No. I will not allow that. “The limo, Alayna,” I say. “I’ll meet you there.”
Alayna heads to the lot. I pull my phone from my pocket as I turn back toward the doors and text Jordan. Get Alayna. Meet me in front.
My mother meets me as I walk in. “Trouble with your plaything already? That didn’t last long.”
My eye twitches and all the anger I feel toward Celia makes it hard to remain civil with my mother. “Alayna’s not feeling well. She hasn’t built up a tolerance to the poison in this environment like the rest of us have. I’m taking her home and putting her to bed.” I let her assume what she wants about that statement. “I’ll be back in time to present your precious Pierce Industries donation check.”
I’m gone again before she can respond.
Jordan reaches the curb just as I do. I climb in the back, and the car pulls into traffic.
Alayna presses into the corner farthest from me as if she’s disgusted with me. As if she’s frightened of me.
I wish she knew I’d never hurt her. But how could she possibly know that when I’m not even sure of that myself?
I pressed the intercom. “Jordan, drive around until I say otherwise. Or find someplace to park for a while.”
We sit in silence as Jordan drives around. I don’t know how to begin the conversation. If I knew exactly what she was upset about, I’d fare better, but I have no idea what Celia said or did. Whatever it was, I have to figure out how to make things right.
It occurs to me that the best move might be to come clean about everything. Alayna’s already said she’s quitting the scam. She’s already walking out of my life. Yet, I hold out hope that I can change that. If I confessed everything—there would be no making that right.
Instead, I’ll have to tread carefully. Figure out what I can from Alayna and repair the damage as best I can. I keep my voice low and pray my desperation isn’t transparent. “What exactly did Celia tell you?”
“Oh, just how you fuck with vulnerable women’s emotions. Is it true?”
Every hair on my body stands on end, and I feel as though I’ve just stepped into a landmine. How could Celia…? Why would she…? I can’t gather my thoughts. I can’t reason what or why or how much of our game Celia has exposed.
“Alayna—” I slide closer to her and reach for her knee. I need her touch. That’s the way I communicate best with her.
But she isn’t having it. “Don’t touch me! And stop saying my name. Is it true?”
“Will you calm down so I can explain?” Though I have no idea yet what my explanation will be. I’m doing my best to keep calm, but energy gathers inside me, wanting to explode.
Her eyes blaze and she looks as worked up as I feel. “Is. It. True?” she demands.
The panic rising in my chest escapes in a burst. “Yes, it’s true!” And oh my God. I’ve said it out loud. I’ve disclosed the worst thing about me. I take a deep breath and attempt to regain control. “In the past, it was true.”
I can’t look at her, can’t see the disappointment that I feel shooting from her eyes. I shouldn’t say anything else, but now that the confessing’s started, I feel compelled to complete it. “I did...things...that I’m not proud of.” My admission is slow. Painful. “I manipulated people. I hurt them, and often it was deliberate.” I’m speaking as if my faults are in the past. And they are. At least they were. Is that still true?
I vow right then that it is true. I will not hurt Alayna deliberately. I may be trapped in this game, but I will do everything and anything to make sure that my actions with her are sincere. I meet her eyes and make the promise I will try my damndest to keep. “But not now. I don’t do that now. Not with you.”
I pray that she believes me.
She doesn’t. “Really? Because it seems completely obvious that you did exactly that with me. The way you picked me out at the symposium, and you tracked me down and gave me a spa vacation, and Jesus, you bought the club!”
I shake my head. “It’s not like that. I explained the gift, and I was looking at the club anyway.” I’m already breaking my promise, already manipulating truths. “When I found out you worked there, yes, it helped me make my decision—”
She cuts me off. “And you ‘hired’ me and seduced me. And when I told you I needed to not have sex with you, you somehow got me to do exactly that. You are manipulative. You’re a bully, Hudson.”
She wraps her arms around herself, and more than anything, I wish it were me wrapped around her. But her words are ringing in my ear—manipulative, bully.
“No, Alayna. I didn’t want that with you.” But, God, she’s right. I’ve tried to have my cake and eat it too. Tried to get near her with my games, and then tried to protect her from them at the same time. It was a ridiculous plan. “I don’t want to be like that with you.”
But it’s the only way I know how to be with her. With anyone.
“Then what do you want to be with me, Hudson?” She wipes at her tears, and I have to hold myself back from kissing them from her face.
“Honestly? I’m not sure.” It’s the truest thing I’ve said. I lean back against the seat, and though I’m physically here in my limousine, I’m also completely lost. I’ve never been so without answers. Not just today with the mess that Celia has created, but since the very first day I saw Alayna.
Why her? Why now? Has therapy actually changed me? Is that why she makes me feel the way she does? Because as scared as I am to admit it, that’s exactly what’s going on with Alayna—I’m feeling. She makes me feel. What, I can’t say. I’m not familiar enough with these sensations to explain any of it.
It strikes me as funny. Why, after all my life of never feeling anything for anyone, this woman shows up and throws all my truths out the window. It’s ironic. Comical even.
So I laugh. Then I attempt to put it into words, for both our sakes. “I’m drawn to you, Alayna. Not because I want to hurt you or make you feel a certain way, but because you’re beautiful and sexy and smart and, yes, a little crazy maybe, but you’re not broken. And that makes me hopeful. For me.”
And, God doesn’t that feel fucking good to say? It’s raw. It’s real. It’s the freest I’ve ever been.
I glance at her and know from the way she’s watching me that I have her attention. I have her sympathy. At another time in my life, this is the moment where I’d inwardly celebrate. This is the prime moment to take advantage of someone else.
I could reach out to her, and I’m willing to bet she’d let me do what I’d like with her. Only a day before, I probably would have. I regret that now. “And maybe I’ve been a bully. But I’m a dominant person. I can try to change things about me, but the fundamentals of my personality are never going away.” That acknowledgment brings another rush of freedom, and I realize that Alayna likely gets this as well as I do. “You of all people should be able to understand that.”
“I’m sorry.” Her voice cracks. “I’m sorry. You didn’t judge me and I judged you.”
Her apology returns me to my prison. The reprieve from my guilt was brief. Now I remember that no matter what I feel or intend or wish to have happen between her and me, we got here because I set her up. My remorse is so heavy, I can’t speak. All I can do is nod once.
She assumes my response is acceptance. “And I exaggerated when I called you a bully. I haven’t done anything I didn’t want to. And your whole confident, domineering thing is actually kinda hot.”
I want to smile. But I won’t let myself. There’s still too much at stake. I squeeze my eyes shut, focusing all my strength and will on the thing I want—need—most. “Alayna, don’t quit. Don’t quit me.”
And I don’t mean the scenario I’ve hired her for. I mean me. I want her to have as much faith in me as I do in her. It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever desired, and I’ve never desired anything more.
She looks away, and I already know her answer. “Hudson, I have to. Not because of this, well, not only because of this, but because of my past. I’m not well enough to be with someone who has his own issues.”
“You are, Alayna. You only tell that to yourself because you’re scared.” It’s me I’m talking about, but I suspect she feels the same.
“I should be scared. It’s not safe. For either of us. You should be scared, too.”
If she only knew how scared I am. I’m terrified of what I’ve done—of what I’m doing—but more than anything, I’m terrified that I will lose whatever it is that I have with her.
But maybe she’s right. This is what I want for her—to be strong like this. I let out a heavy breath and think about what she’s said. And I realize I don’t agree. “I don’t believe that. I think spending time with another person who has similar compulsive tendencies can provide insight and healing.” Because in this brief time with her, I’ve had more insight and healing than I’ve had in three years with Dr. Alberts.
Alayna leans her head back against the seat and stares at the ceiling. I’ve given her a lot to think about, I’m sure. I’ve given myself a lot to think about. But the only word that keeps repeating in my head now is please. Please don’t let me lose this. Please don’t let me lose her.
“I won’t quit.” Her words jump-start my heart. She turns to face me. “But I can’t have a relationship with you, Hudson. All I can give you is the fake. I have to protect myself here.”
I’m sick with disappointment. “I understand.” I say it again to myself, hoping this time I accept it. “Thank you.”
And since she’s ended us—ended the only part of us that matters—I pull myself together, closing myself off. Shutting her out.
Then she places a hand on my knee and leans in. “Hudson, you’re not broken.”
I begin to falter when I catch sight of her cleavage. What I see under her dress surprises me. “What are you...? Is that...?” I swear she’s wearing the corset I’d admonished her for the day we’d first properly met. Though it was inappropriate for work, I’d mentioned how much I’d love to see her in it again, privately.
She blushes. “Yes. I’d worn it for you.”
“Wow. That was…that was very thoughtful of you.” The moment is inopportune, but I’m instantly hard. Actually, I suspect that everything I’ve bared and everything she’s said has helped contribute to how much I want her now. She always turns me on. But now I need her in a way that is all-consuming.
Yet, I can’t have her. Even though her eyes flicker with the same need, I know that I’ll hurt us both if I don’t respect what she’s asked for.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
As if she has anything to be sorry for. “I know. I am too.” I remain caught up in her gaze for a minute. Everything I want to see is there, including the way she sees me.
But it’s not real and it can’t last. I have to move on. “This may be poor timing, but I need to get back to my mother’s show.”
“Sure.”
“And since you’re supposed to be sick, you will need to go home.”
I direct Jordan to drive to Alayna’s apartment and discover we’re nearly there already. It’s a good thing—I can’t be with her much longer without going crazy. But I also wish I could gather every second until she leaves me and stretch them infinitely.
“When is our next show, boss?” she asks.
Celia and I had planned the symphony to be the next event on our agenda. She went off script today, so I don’t feel obligated to stick to our plans. Even though the damage has been done, I’d also like to keep Alayna and Celia as far from each other as possible.
So I don’t mention the symphony to Alayna. “I’m not sure. I have to fly to Cincinnati tonight.” I frown. “And I am not your boss.”
“Cincinnati? Tonight?” She sounds disappointed.
“Yes, tonight. I have a meeting first thing in the morning. My jet’s leaving early evening.” My mother has invited us to the beach house later that week. That I’ll be unable to get out of. “I’ll text you later to arrange the Hamptons. We’ll leave Friday afternoon.”
“So you’ll be gone all week?”
“I’m not sure yet.” I’m supposed to be back by Wednesday, but I don’t tell her that. It’s best for both of us if she thinks I’m not in town.
“Oh.” She sounds disappointed. But I’ve turned everything off now. Years of not feeling and it’s old hat to return to numb. So it doesn’t hurt when we arrive at her place and she gets out of the car.
Or maybe it does hurt, but it’s so deep inside, buried so far, that I find a way to ignore it.
I can’t ignore her pain though. It’s written all over her face, all over her carriage. I call her back before she’s gone too far. “Thank you for today. I think you’ve truly made an impression on my mother. Good work.” It’s nothing of what I want to say, but it’s all I allow myself.
Then Jordan drives away, and instead of thinking about all that I’m leaving behind, I concentrate on what is waiting before me until all my emotion—all my rage and anger and bitterness—is focused on Celia.
* * *
The fashion show has started when I return to the Manhattan Center. I know where Celia’s sitting, thank God, and I’m grateful that it’s near the back of the room. When I reach her, I tap her on the shoulder to get her attention then not so gently assist her up from her chair. She doesn’t fight me as I escort her to the lobby and to the coatroom. It’s summer, so it’s not in use.
I can’t help but think of the last coatroom I was in. It was with Alayna at The Sky Launch—I’d barely been able to control my passion with her. Now it’s my temper that’s barely controlled.
After locating the light and shutting the door behind us, I turn on Celia. “What the fuck did you do?” My tone is threatening and wild.
She rolls her eyes at me. “Oh, chill out. I hadn’t had a chance to get to know our subject. I was simply feeling her out.” She takes a seat on the bench in the middle of the room.
“You told her my secrets.” Her lack of concern, her docile temperament, fuels me. She’s fucked me over and isn’t at all afraid of my retaliation. I search for something she’ll find meaningful. “You practically ruined your own scheme by telling her something that we aren’t even supposed to talk about. Ever!” I’m yelling. It’s very unlike me. As if I’m not only feeling new emotions because of Alayna, but feeling old ones deeper and with less inhibition.
With only a mildly surprised look on her face, Celia starts a slow, exaggerated clapping. “Wow, Hudson. You’re angry. I’m impressed.”
She’s pushing my fury. But her recognition of my temper puts me in check. Emotions, I remember, make people weak. I’m extremely vulnerable in this situation, and Celia is not the person who should witness this.
I throw a hand through my hair and rein in my rage. “I get angry. This isn’t new.” I’m noticeably calmer, playing off my outburst.
“You never get this angry. If you do, you don’t let it show.” She places her palms on either side of her and leans back to study me. “Did that therapist of yours finally teach you how to feel?”
She’s poking at me, needling me, and in a flash of clarity, I understand what it’s like to be on the other end of a manipulative attack. The realization weakens me, and I have to sit. I fall on the bench next to Celia.
I have to get myself together. Get myself in the dominating position. I take a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “I’m just…out of practice at this. And you’re changing the rules without consulting me. I’m frustrated.” Another breath in and out.
“Understandable, I suppose.” She’s watching me with eagle eyes. “But I didn’t change the rules. I saw a flaw in our scenario and I improvised. Same as we always do.”
I’m cautious, but this piques my interest. “What flaw?”
She shifts so she’s angled toward me. “The girl is doe-eyed about you, Hudson. It’s obvious she’s going to fall apart over you, and while that’s the expectation, this was going to be entirely too easy.” She runs a finger between her brows. “So I injected a little challenge. That’s all.”
Another rush of emotion washes over me. I’m angry again. Angry that Celia is playing with Alayna like this, molding her, bouncing her back and forth. “Making the experiment more challenging? Since when was that something we’d aspired to?”
She shrugs. “This is your first game in a long time. I wanted to make it good for you.”
It’s plausible. Her motives could very well be to keep me interested. God knows she’s been trying to reel me back in for years.
But I know Celia better than that. The challenge is for her. And I’m still not entirely sure that was the reason for exposing me to Alayna. I just can’t determine her true aim.
More composed now, I attempt to figure it out. “That was quite a risk you took. She almost quit the whole thing.”
Celia delivers a confident smirk. “But she didn’t. Did she?”
“Only because I convinced her not to. If it hadn’t been for me, she would be gone.” A tug of guilt—I should have let her walk away. Whatever happens now between Celia and Alayna is my fault.
But wasn’t it always?
Celia crosses a leg over the other and clasps her hands at her knee. “If it hadn’t been for you, she wouldn’t be so enamored in the first place.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that the scheme would have worked more objectively if you hadn’t fucked her.”
There it is—her true motive. She’s not happy about my personal relationship with Alayna. Is it jealousy? Or just pure spite? “You’ve never cared if I fucked them before.”
“And I still don’t. Except when it messes with the hypothesis.” She stands, straightening her skirt as she does. Then she turns to face me. “Your extracurricular activities are your own business. Keep up your fun if you prefer. But realize that what you do with Alayna Withers outside our plan has the power to affect the outcome.”
“It’s a little late for that sentiment. You’ve effectively ended any extracurricular activities, as you like to call it.” I know that despite Celia’s animosity or jealousy or whatever, she’s actually done Alayna a favor. There is a connection between her and me, and Celia’s right that our sex life is only hurting Alayna’s chances at remaining strong. I’ve known this for quite some time, yet I didn’t have the strength on my own to end things as I should.
This is for the best, as devastating as it is for me to live with.
Celia recognizes my disappointment. She crosses behind me and strokes a hand through the hair at my temple. “I’m sorry, Hudson. I really am. I probably shouldn’t have intervened as I did. I just know that you have faith that Alayna will come out of this strong, and with the road you had chosen, that was simply not going to happen.” She leans down and hugs me from behind, her mouth at my ear. “I did it for you. To give your thesis a fighting chance. Forgive me?”
I tense under her touch. We’ve had physical contact over the years, growing comfortable enough with each other to kiss and embrace when scenarios called for it. But now, her arms around me feel like shackles. She has a hold on me, I realize. And I have no idea how to break free.
