Hudson

Chapter Eighteen

After

We’re quiet as we drive to the restaurant for my mother’s birthday. Alayna’s nervous—I’m sure that’s the reason for her silence. Mothers in general are intimidating, I hear. My mother beats them all.

I’m nervous as well, for more than one reason. First, I’m worried about subjecting Alayna to this evening with Sophia. It’s partly why I hadn’t told her about tonight. Alayna was supposed to be working, so I used that as an excuse not to bring it up. Then her plans were canceled, and I had to make a decision. She thinks she wormed her way into an invite, but, honestly, I wanted her with me. I always want her with me.

Now I’m left with a bigger problem. Celia. I’m certain she’ll be there. Her family has joined us for my mother’s birthday dinners for as long as I can remember, so the scenario isn’t unlikely. And that brings up so many potential issues. Alayna, for one, may not be happy if Celia is present. I’ve promised her I won’t spend time with Celia without her. It hadn’t even occurred to me that this evening would break that promise until I realized Alayna would be with me.

I should tell her now. But I can’t bring myself to say it because I’m hoping to God that it isn’t an issue, that Celia doesn’t come tonight. Not because Alayna will be upset, but because I don’t want to see Celia. At all.

Even the thought of it causes sweat to bead across my brow.

As the limo pulls up to the curb, I wipe my forehead and laugh inwardly at myself. I’m a man who’s generally self-assured and confident, and now, at the thought of my petite, demure childhood friend, I’m frightened. It’s my own fault. I should have contacted her before now. It’s been three days since I completely left the experiment, and I’ve yet to tell Celia. I’ve avoided it, not knowing what to say. All my focus has been on Alayna, making her part of my world, inviting her to live with me—it feels like a lifetime since Celia drove me to the airport in the Hamptons and I told her I was done. I’m not that man anymore. I’m completely new.

Stepping out of the car, I casually glance around for sight of her before reaching back to help Alayna out. Celia’s nowhere to be seen, and it shouldn’t matter if she was. She likely won’t be surprised to see us. She knows I haven’t broken things off since she showed up at my penthouse while Alayna was there. The game was supposed to have ended before that. But she can only guess what the circumstances are to have made me change the plans. I’m sure she suspects something’s different—I’ve never had a woman at my house before. Not one I was in a relationship with. Not even one I was pretending to have a relationship with. It’s a change in my pattern that Celia will not have missed.

Yes, there’s a lot to be said to Celia, a lot that’s past due. When I finally do tell her the truth, she’ll retaliate. It’s not a question.

I gesture to Alayna to go ahead of me while I make arrangements with Jordan for our pickup. A last minute urge to flee seizes me. I could call Alayna back, take her somewhere else, enjoy the evening with her to myself. My mother will throw a fit and drink more than usual, or maybe exactly as much as usual, which is already too much. But I won’t care because I’ll be far away from all of it.

Our problems wouldn’t be solved, though. Simply postponed. Which is why I decide to continue with this horror of an evening. It will be worse because Alayna is with me, but I’m strangely comforted knowing she’ll be beside me through it all.

I step into the lobby after her and look at my watch. We’re a few minutes late. This shouldn’t be a problem. I called my mother earlier to let her know I was bringing Alayna, so the table should already be prepared for us. In the elevator up to our floor, I take her hand. I need to touch her even if it’s only in this simple capacity. It gives me strength. It reminds me my power lies in her.

The tension in my neck and shoulders tightens as we ascend. I realize that I don’t know what Alayna will do when she discovers Celia is here, if she’s here. Maybe it won’t be a big deal. But if it is…? Will Alayna be tight-lipped and cold? Will she lash out? What will I say when she questions me about it? The truth is safest, but what exactly is that?

More than once I lean toward Alayna with the intent of telling her that Celia may be here. Each time I stop myself. Finally, I start praying for the improbable. Don’t let her be here. Tomorrow, I’ll contact her. I’ll start making things right with her. Though I have no idea how.

Much too soon, long before I’m prepared, we are led by the host to my family’s table. Everyone’s there—Chandler, my parents, Mira and Adam, the Werners. Celia.

My stomach drops.

I know the moment Alayna spots her. She releases my hand and looks at me with pain-stricken features. “I thought you said this was family only,” she mumbles. And she bolts.

Well, that wasn’t a reaction I’d expected.

I nod to my family, catching my mother’s scowl as I make an apology. “She left something in the car. Excuse us a moment.” Then I follow after my date. While she may just need a moment to calm down, she has to know she can’t run from me. I will always come after her.

She takes the stairs. I pause at the door, trying to discover if she’s gone up or down. Her shoes echo on the concrete, but when I peer over the rail, I don’t see her below me. So I head to the roof.

At the top of the stairs, I open the heavy door and spot her rushing past the lounge area to the far edge of the space. There’s not many people here—a couple absorbed in each other on a couch, a small party conversing around an unlit fire pit. Not wanting to make a scene, I slow my pursuit. Alayna’s trapped in my sight. I can’t lose her.

When I’m close to her, I stop. Her back is to me, taking deep breaths. Her body rises and falls with each new lungful of air. I want to reach for her, but I’m tentative. Though I’m ready to move everything in my life to be with her, our whole arrangement is new to me. I’m making mistakes already, and I’m desperate not to make more.

I should have told her.

Now I have to say something, so I settle on the only thing that comes to mind. “The Werners are practically family.”

She doesn’t turn toward me. “Right. Uh-huh.”

“What, do you think I didn’t tell you on purpose?” Okay, I didn’t tell her on purpose, but not for the reasons she thinks. I’m in defense mode, and my phrasing tends to get manipulative when I am.

She chortles. “You don’t want to know what I’m thinking.”

“Actually, I do.”

She spins toward me. “No, you don’t.”

I watch her as she backs away from me, stopping when she meets the wall. She should be angry at me. Aggressive, not retreating. There’s more to this than simply jealousy, but I don’t understand what.

And I want to understand. “Trust me when I tell you I do.”

“Hudson, you can’t say that when you don’t know what I want to say.” Her voice is strained, as if she’s holding back. “It’s not good. In fact, you need to leave me alone. Or I’m going to blame you for things. Things I’m probably overreacting about, and you’re going to be offended. And I’m going to lose you.”

The light goes on, and I feel like an idiot. She’s told me that she makes things bigger than they are, and here she is, afraid that that’s what she’s doing. She’s not, of course. I deserve her accusations, misguided as they may be. I deserve blame.

But, asshole that I am, I don’t tell her that. It will push her away, and I need—she needs—to be pulled in. So I do everything I can to make her see that her issues don’t scare me. Make her see that I’m not going anywhere. “You aren’t going to lose me.” I take a step toward her to prove it.

Her face is anguished, disbelieving. “You haven’t seen this side of me, Hudson. You don’t know.”

I don’t know what she’s like, what she can be like. I’ve seen glimpses of her obsessive tendencies, but nothing substantial. She’s been so strong, hiding her weaknesses from me.

I’m selfish because, even though I won’t show her all my darkness, I want to witness hers. “Then I need to stay. I need to see every side of you.”

Because I’ll love her through it all.

She shakes her head and bites her sexy red-painted lip, and I can tell she’s fighting tears.

But she’s also considering. I see it in her eyes. So I press her. “Go ahead. Ask me.”

“It won’t be asking; it will be accusing.” Her voice is smaller, and I can tell her resolve is weakening. It won’t take much to coax her thoughts out of her.

Am I a bully because I’m pressing her like this? Am I a masochist because I’m eager to hear what she has to say? Her accusations won’t be accurate, but I deserve to be questioned and grilled. I deserve to have to fight for her.

That’s not why I push her. I push her because I can’t live without her, and that means all of her, even this. “Do it,” I say. “I want to hear it. I need to know what you’re thinking. Trust me.”

She lets go. “You didn’t invite me tonight because you knew she’d be here.” It’s barely a whisper.

I nod in understanding. It’s not the reason I didn’t invite her, but if I’d known this morning that Alayna didn’t have to work this evening, I don’t know if I would have invited her then, either. And Celia would be the reason.

That admission would lead to things I don’t want to talk about, things I don’t want to face, and so I say, “That’s not true. I told you why I didn’t invite you. And I did invite you in the end. You’re here.”

“But you didn’t want to at first.” Though she won’t meet my eyes, her posture is stronger. “That’s probably why you had to doll me up. To show up Celia, whatever your game with her is. It wasn’t about your mother at all.”

This punches me in the gut. “You’re right.”

Her head whips up.

“You’re right that it wasn’t about my mother. It was about you. I wanted everyone to see how beautiful you are. How beautiful the woman who loves me is.” It’s hard for me to even say these words because I know that she really does love me and I don’t deserve it.

Worse, she doesn’t understand how much her affection means to me.

“Celia. You wanted to show Celia, you mean.”

I shake my head, not knowing how to get through to her.

“She’s here, Hudson!” she shouts. “She’s here with free rein, and I had to beg to be here. And you told me you wouldn’t see her without me. What is she to you?”

“Nothing. An old friend.” An enemy, maybe, depending on how things play out.

“Bullshit.” Her voice cracks. “Otherwise you would have told me about this dinner from the beginning. You were hiding it from me.” She points an accusing finger at me. “Because you knew she would be here too.”

“I didn’t know.” I close my eyes and take a breath. Will I always have to live like this? Skirting the truth? Dodging the past?

My only hope is to give as much honesty as I can. “I suspected,” I admit. “But she’s not here because of me. Her mother is my mother’s best friend. You know that.”

“Fuck that. She’s twenty-eight years old. She’s old enough to not go to every goddamn function with her mother. She’s here for you.”

There’s truth to this. Though our relationship hasn’t ever been romantic—not really—we’ve clung to each other like two orphaned hatchlings, birds of a feather. Our circles always entwined. If it were her mother’s birthday, I’d be there. I’d called it friendship. Now I see it for what it really is—habit. And obligation. And fear.

That ends now. It doesn’t matter if Celia’s here for me. It only matters who I’m here with. “And I’m here with you,” I tell Alayna. It’s raw. It’s honest. It’s the most important thing I’ve said to anyone in quite some time.

“She’s still in love with you.” Her jealousy and fears are evidence of her claim on me.

It turns me on.

“And I’m with you.” I can’t stand our distance anymore. Not literally or figuratively. I need her. I need her to obsess about me, to love me so deeply that it rocks her world, because it’s how I love her. I cross to her, bracing my arms on either side of her. “I’m with you.”

Her hands reach for my jacket as I move closer. I press into her, and she responds by leaning into me. She notices my erection, and her eyes spark with questioning want.

“I’m hard for you and only you. It’s you that I adore.” I kiss along her neck. She moans, and my cock jumps.

This isn’t about me, though. This conversation is about her—about soothing her, pleasing her, showing her that she owns me in every way.

I crash my lips to hers, stroking and caressing her mouth with my tongue. I kiss her in a way that I know will make her wet. Make her drip with her desire.

“I’m with you,” I say again when I break the kiss. I repeat it to her over and over like a mantra, like a soundtrack to the love scene we’re performing. A love scene that’s about to get fucking hot.

I gather the skirt of her dress up and tuck it into her panties, slipping my fingers inside. The smell of her cunt drifts up, and my dick turns to stone. The faint laughter in the background reminds me that there are people nearby, but I can’t stop myself. In fact, their nearness fuels my lust.

Alayna doesn’t seem bothered by them either. I rub against her clit, massaging her in the ways I’ve learned she likes. Her hips buck into my hand.

“That’s it,” I coax her between kisses, my fingers working her. “Relax. Let me be with you.”

My hand moves down her pussy, and I slide two fingers into her hole. She’s warm and tight and wet. The sounds she makes as I fuck her with my fingers—whimpers and breathy little moans—drives me mad. My cock is throbbing, begging for release.

But I have more to say. More I need to tell her. I drop to my knees and pull her panties to her ankles. I leisurely drag my tongue down the length of her cunt. “It’s you that I’m about to go down on,” I tell her. “It’s you I’m going to make come with my mouth, so that when we go back down there and you start to feel insecure, you will still be wet and you’ll remember my lips were on you and no one else.”

My words alone make her squirm. Now I’m going to make her writhe.

I lift her foot from her panties and toss her leg over my shoulder. Then I go down on her in earnest. I suck and lick and nip at her clit, thrusting three fingers into her hole. I bend a finger, rubbing against the spot that I know will make her come. And she does. She rocks forward as she gushes over my hand, into my mouth. God, she tastes so good.

She’s still coming when I stand and press my erection against her hand. “Take it out,” I demand. Even if I could manage to settle down enough to return to dinner with my family, I’d still have to fuck her first. This is a crucial part of what I have to say to her. I’m here with her—I told her that with my mouth and my hands—but she’s also here with me. This I’m going to tell her with my cock.

“We’re not alone.” She’s just noticed.

If I wasn’t so goddamned hard, I’d take a moment to savor the knowledge that I’d sucked her into oblivion.

But I’m pulsing with need. “Take it out. I don’t care about anyone or anything but being inside you right now. I have to be inside you.”

She does as I’ve asked. I lower my pants only enough to free my dick. Then I lift her, bracing her against the wall, and thrust into her cunt. Hard.

“Goddamn, your pussy is so good.” I move in and out of her with quick jabs. “Do you hear me? Your pussy makes me this hard. No one else’s.”

Her whimpers move in time to my drives. It’s so hot, and I’m about ready to explode, but I keep reminding her as I continue to pound into her. Keep reassuring her. “When we go back down to dinner, I will smell like you and you will smell like me. And you’ll remember that we are together. I am with you.”

I don’t have to tell her to come with me. She does anyway, and I take it as a sign I’ve gotten my point across. She bites my shoulder, muffling her scream as my release rips into my words “No one but you.”

No one but you.

No one but her, never before, never again. My commitment runs deep, and there’s no end to it. She’s inside me, wrapped around me like a tumor. There’s no way to cut her away without cutting into me. Without killing me.

When we join my family for dinner, we’re both calmer. Mirabelle greets Alayna warmly, as does my father. The latter doesn’t please me, but I remember the rooftop—I’m with Alayna, she’s with me. My father is not a threat.

My mother’s her usual self—drunk and bitchy. For the most part, though, she’s manageable. Celia’s the one I’m most concerned with. I steal a few glances at her throughout the evening. She’s unreadable. She’s good.

By the time dinner arrives, I’ve relaxed considerably. Whatever Celia is planning, there won’t be a scene. Not here, anyway. I may even get away without speaking to her at all tonight. Maybe there actually is a God.

I’ve just taken my first bite of duck crepes when Warren strikes a conversation. “I’m very sorry to hear about your Plexis deal,” he says around a mouthful of steak au poivre.

We’d bantered business earlier, but nothing personal until now.

“You win some, you lose some.” Though I’m still disappointed with the loss of Plexis, I’m in the process of getting the company back, thanks to Alayna. It’s too early to share this type of news with others, so I don’t mention it.

Besides, there’s another plan I’ve been toying with, a plan that might insure me some leverage, but a lot needs to line up if I’m to pursue it. Part of that includes information that I can only get from Warren. “Is GlamPlay still looking to buy into Werner Media?”

Warren shrugs. “They’re toying with me. Haven’t made up their mind.” He takes a swallow of his wine. “It would be a great advantage for both corporations, but I can’t quite convince them of that.”

I nod, digesting the information. Pierce Industries has heavy influence over GlamPlay. They’re a company I’ve considered purchasing for a while. For my plan to work, GlamPlay needs to buy shares in Werner Media first. I’ll have to get Norma to see how we can make that happen.

Meanwhile, I need to shore up my own investments in Werner’s company. “How much is GlamPlay looking to buy?”

“Thirty percent is on the table. Any more than that would put me at a liability.”

“Of course.” With the ten percent I already own, plus the thirty percent that GlamPlay could own, I would be at forty percent total holdings. I’m not sure that’s enough. “Is the portion on the table from your shares or from the other investors?”

He offers me a grin. “All from me.”

It leaves Warren with forty percent as well. It’s a risky move on his part, leaving himself with less than fifty percent of the ownership. But he’s right that GlamPlay will bring benefits that will increase the overall worth, and as long as he has the majority shares, he’s in a good position.

So I just need to make sure he doesn’t have the majority. I’ll need to convince another investor to sell. Another star that has to align.

As if he can read my mind, he says, “Are you interested in further investing? Bishop is looking to sell his two percent. Great time to buy. Prices are going to go up if GlamPlay invests.”

Bingo.

“I’ll have my people contact Bishop tomorrow.” This idea of mine is working out better than I thought. The prospects excite me for many reasons, not the least of which is because it’s a version of the game. Making good business deals always is. Just like chess. It’s strategic and secretive and often manipulative, but much more ethical. Work is where I exercise my need to play. It’s thrilling.

But not as thrilling as life with Alayna. I tuck away the newfound information and turn my attention to her. Loading my fork with a piece of my crepe that doesn’t have any mushrooms, I offer her a bite. Her lips slide along the silver, and all I can think about is how beautiful she looks when her lips curl around my cock.

“Divine,” she says.

“I could say the same thing.” I’m not subtle about my meaning.

Madge reddens and clears her throat. I guess I’d spoken louder than I’d meant to. Oh well. Maybe this will make her forget her silly ideas about me marrying her daughter. Though whether it does or not, I’m not really concerned.

Talk turns to Mirabelle’s pregnancy. The whole table joins in. It’s hard to ignore the excitement of a new baby. I know this from experience.

Also from experience, I recognize the tension in Mirabelle’s voice when she suggests hyphenating the baby’s last name to Sitkin-Pierce. It’s a ridiculous idea, and I know she’s only saying it for my mother’s benefit. Even more ridiculous is how my mother makes Mirabelle think she needs to say it.

“It’s not the same.” At least Sophia isn’t encouraging the idea. “Sitkin-Pierce is not Pierce. So the bloodline continues, but not the name.”

It’s that one statement that makes me fear for this conversation. If I know my mother—and I do—it won’t be pretty. I watch the pieces line up for the accident that I’m certain is about to take place: Adam reminds us that Chandler could have a Pierce child. My father slips in his doubt that Chandler really is a Pierce.

Then Sophia says it, the thing I’ve been dreading. “Hudson and Celia’s baby could have been both.”

It’s at this moment that I realize how my lack of emotion has enabled me to survive a life with my mother. Her drunken antics, her caustic comments, her cold indifference—none of it has ever fazed me. They’ve skimmed off the surface of my shields, leaving only faint scuffs and shallow dents.

Now, though, with Alayna in my life, my armor is down. And I feel every hit.

I’m angry. She has no right. She’s not only hurting Alayna but Mirabelle and Celia. Probably the Werners as well. While my mother can’t know all the memories and pains that she dredges up with this casual statement, she isn’t so ignorant as to not realize its inappropriateness.

I plan to say something, but I want to be in control of my rage before I do. I’m unused to having to rein in emotion, and it takes me a minute. Meanwhile, it’s my father who speaks out. “Not this again, Sophia. Really? Goddammit, I won’t listen to this.” He tosses his napkin down and stands. “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.”

My father’s outburst surprises everyone. For me, I find that within the surprise is lucidity. Jack hasn’t had the emotional shelter that I have had. Perhaps I’ve placed too much blame on him for my mother’s behavior. Maybe it’s her that drove him to infidelity in the first place. Maybe the situation is more complicated than I’ve realized. Even with all my study, I couldn’t realize how easy it was to get hurt and be hurt in a relationship until I was in love with someone myself.

Sophia’s unaffected by his departure. “What a drama queen.” She takes a bite of her food. “I was merely pointing out that we had a chance at a Pierce grandchild and now it’s gone.”

Adam makes a snide remark, but I don’t pay any attention. I’m collected now. I’m ready to have my say. “I could have a child with Alayna.”

Admittedly, the main purpose of my comment is to goad my mother, but it doesn’t change its truth. I’ve never given much thought to children except for that brief moment of time that I almost became the father of Celia’s baby. I’ve had no desire to continue my line, and, to be fair, I’m sure my mother had understood that about me. It’s likely encouraged the notion that her one and only chance to have a Hudson Pierce child has slipped away. Babies were not in my future.

Now, with Alayna, it’s suddenly possible.

Without looking at her, I sense her astonishment. She’s not the one I meant to shock, and I feel a bit guilty. This should have been a conversation first discussed in private. A second rush of fury washes over me at being put in this position in the first place. I smother it by focusing on my plate, taking another bite of my dinner.

Despite the unfortunate timing of my declaration, it hits its mark. “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.” I take a swallow of my wine. “And what Alayna and I are discussing is frankly none of your business.”

Sophia’s eyes narrow. “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.” I’m calm, in control, even as I reveal myself. “And the only person I could ever imagine wanting to have a child with is Alayna.”

Before when we were with my mother, my relationship with Alayna was a ruse. Though much of what was supposed to be pretend was actually very real, this is the moment where Alayna has to know exactly how sincere I am about us. Because I’m very serious.

After everything my mother has said and done this evening, it seems it’s this pronouncement that has caused the most tension.

“Hudson, I…” Alayna stiffens at my side, and I’m afraid I’ve gone too far. Scared her off. For the first time, it occurs to me that she may not be as invested in me as I am in her.

No, I can’t think about that. She’s probably just uncomfortable with all the eyes pinned on us.

I place my hand on her leg to reassure her—to reassure me—and apologize with my eyes before turning to my mother. “The point is that you need to let the past go, Mother. There is still a future to look forward to. For all of us.” For me and Alayna.

I turn my focus back to my girlfriend. As my hand strokes up and down her thigh, I tell her with my eyes words I wish I could say. Our future is bright, Alayna. You are the only one who matters to me. I’m with you. I love you. Always.

My gaze is locked with hers, so I notice her eyes fill. God, please let those be happy tears.

She excuses herself to use the powder room.

My mother barely waits until Alayna’s out of earshot before she starts in. “Well, look, Hudson. You scared her off with your talk of a future. She’s smart enough to know there’s no such thing with a man like you.”

“Oh, stop it,” Mirabelle says. “If anyone scared her off, it was you.”

Warmth spreads through my chest. I do have a great kid sister. This isn’t a revelation, but rather a reminder. I’ll have to remember to tell her thanks sometime.

As for everyone else, I’m ready to be done with them. I wipe my mouth with my napkin and stand. “Actually, Mother, powder room is our code for DTF.”

Mirabelle and Celia gasp while Adam tries to hide a laugh. Chandler even looks up from his phone, his eyes wide in admiration.

I cross to my mother’s chair, and before she can ask what it means, I say, “Google it. You’ll learn something.” I bend to kiss her cheek. “Happy birthday, Mother. Perhaps next year you can manage to make it through the meal without running anyone off.”

“You’re charming as always, Hudson,” she says, her words drenched in sarcasm.

“Aren’t I?”

As I head to the bathrooms, I hear Chandler laughing as he explains to my mother, “It means down to fuck, Mom. He means he’s meeting Alayna for a booty call.”

I’m still smiling when I make it to the restrooms. I use the facilities, taking time to clean up a bit from our earlier tryst on the roof. When I leave, I notice Mirabelle heading into the women’s restroom. And Celia heading out.

She sees me and starts toward me. I realize that this is it. I can’t avoid talking to her any longer.

Fortunately, she doesn’t look angry. A tiny smirk rests on her lips. It’s playful. As if she’s going to scold me, but that’s all.

I’m hopeful.

“So…?” she asks.

I glance behind her toward the women’s room, afraid Alayna may walk out any minute, or that I’ve already missed her.

“She’s still in there,” Celia says, guessing at my worry. “She’s fine. Now spill.”

I run a hand through my hair, wishing I’d dealt with this earlier. “I’m sorry. I should have called you.”

“Probably.” She folds her arms over her chest. “Did you decide you needed more time with the game, then?”

It crosses my mind that I could let her believe that. I could explain that this time with Alayna is just a chance to further gain her affections. That doesn’t sit right, though. Not only will it cause more problems in the future, but I don’t want to lie about my feelings anymore. Especially my feelings about Alayna. “No, the game is over. This is…this is real.”

Her brow furrows. “Are you…? I can’t tell if you’re kidding or not. Did you…”she pauses as if she can’t believe the question she’s about to ask “…fall in love with her?”

It’s a betrayal to say it out loud to someone before telling Alayna, but it’s necessary. “I did. I am. In love with her.”

The scene is surreal—Celia and I discussing love in a nonclinical context. She’s as baffled by it as I am. “But you’ve never—”

I cut her off. “No, I haven’t ever. It’s the first time. I’m…I’m…” I don’t have the words for all that I’m feeling. It’s partly why I haven’t reached out to her before this.

“You’re speechless.” Her eyes are wide but also bright. She lets out a laugh. “God, I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Neither have I.”

“Wow.” She brings her hand to cover her mouth, suppressing another awkward laugh. “I’m so surprised. Forgive me if I seem flustered. I’m just really, really surprised.”

“You’re not the only one.” My eyes dart back to the restroom as another woman goes in. Alayna still hasn’t emerged.

“And she’s in love with you too?” Celia calls my attention back with this question.

This I don’t hesitate to answer. “I really think she is.” I know she is. There’s not a doubt in my mind, and I want to shout it from every rooftop.

“I think you’re right. The way she looks at you…” Celia sighs. Then her eyes crinkle in distrust. “You promise you aren’t trying to pull one over on me? You really feel something for her?”

It’s funny how she’s as suspicious of me as I am of her. “I promise. This is the real thing.” Now, the most important thing. “Which is why I can’t play this game anymore.”

I brace myself for her reaction, holding my breath as I wait.

“Of course not.” Her expression says she’s appalled that I even mentioned the game. “I mean, I knew you were into her, but I thought it was just sex and that’s why I was pushing you to keep playing. I had no idea it was serious.”

I’m not sure what she’s saying. “Are you…okay…with this then?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? You mean because of the scheme? Is that why you were so distant during dinner? Did you think I’d be upset about this?”

It’s my turn to be shocked. “You’ve never been one to drop an experiment.”

“No, I haven’t. But this is a totally different situation.” She bites her lip. “I’m worried it’s too late though. We’ve already pushed her too far.”

I tense. “What do you mean?”

“In the bathroom just now. She…” She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “It’s probably nothing, but she cornered me. Verbally attacked me.”

My stomach knots. I’d thought I’d eased Alayna enough regarding me and Celia, but apparently I haven’t. “What did she say?”

She shakes her head dismissively. “It doesn’t matter what she said exactly. But she was possessive. It seemed to be a repeat of behavior straight out of her file. I think she may already be relapsing.”

I don’t believe this in the least. Alayna’s issues all stem from my own secretive relationship with Celia. It’s a natural response, not a relapse. “I’m not concerned about it.”

“You’re not concerned? But if she needs therapy—”

“If she needs therapy, I’ll get it for her. What she really needs is reassurance.” I can see that Celia is skeptical. “Look—you’re the ex-girlfriend in her eyes. Isn’t it common to have some jealousy in that arena?”

“Yes. I suppose you’re right. Forget I said anything. She loves you, and she’s protecting what’s hers.” She dabs at the corner of her eye, and it’s then I notice she’s teary. “I’m sorry; I wasn’t prepared for all this. I’m a little flustered.”

I’m equally unprepared. I’d expected lashing out and defiance. Not tears. I place a hand on her upper arm. “Celia…are you okay?”

She waves a hand at her face. “I’m fine. I’m touched. Jesus, what’s going on with this world? Hudson Pierce falling in love, and me getting touched by it. Who would have thought?” She looks down at her shoes. “This is a good thing, though. Surprising, but good.”

The relief that fills me spreads through every fiber of my body. I’d been convinced Celia would not approve of my recent emotional developments. She was as die-hard about the game as I was.

Wasn’t she? Or had I simply assumed she shared my own commitment?

I remember back to the night she told me she was still holding out for a man to sweep her off her feet. It was five years ago, possibly six. I haven’t thought about it in some time, and now I wonder if she’d been holding onto that desire all this time. And if she has been, what’s the reason that she hasn’t looked for it? Is it me? Have I been holding her back, keeping her bound to this ridiculous romance-free notion of a life?

Fuck.

How many times have I ruined this woman’s life? Can the mess I’ve made ever be undone? It’s small retribution, but I give her the permission that I suspect she’s waiting for. “Maybe it’s time for you to let love in as well.”

She rolls her eyes. “Pssh.” Then she considers, letting the suggestion settle over her. “Maybe,” she concedes finally. She thinks about it another few seconds before shaking her head. “But let’s not talk about me right now. Does Alayna know about…?” She looks around to make sure no one’s listening and then lowers her voice. “You haven’t told her, have you?”

I know what she’s talking about without her spelling it out. The game. The experiment that brought Alayna into my life in the first place. The weight of this secret slumps my shoulders. “No. I don’t think I can.”

“You can’t.” She’s adamant, her eyes ablaze with her insistence. “Not if you want to keep her. Trust me on this. I’ve been scammed by you before. There’s no way she’ll love you after that.”

This isn’t news. But the confirmation coming from the one person who could possibly understand Alayna’s position is jarring. I don’t want to hear this. I don’t want to believe that there is anything that could make me lose Alayna’s love.

Celia steps toward me, her expression regretful. “I’m not saying that to upset you. I just—”

“I know.” I don’t need Celia to feel bad about this. “It’s the truth. I have to keep it from her. It’s only you and me that know—”

“And I won’t tell her.”

It hadn’t crossed my mind that she would, but now I have to secure that she won’t. “I hate to ask this, but do you swear that?”

“I swear, Hudson. Not only because you asked me not to, but because it’s the code. We don’t speak about the game to anyone. Even if we’re not playing anymore, old rules apply.”

“Thank you.” I look again toward the restrooms, but my thoughts are on Celia. She has a streak of darkness in her that I can’t deny. She’s a sadist. While my experiments were always a sterile study of human behavior and emotion, she repeatedly felt glee at the expense of others. It’s made me wary of her.

Yet, even though I’m the one who taught and nurtured her perverse nature, she’s never turned it back on me. Time and time again, she’s stood by me, been my only confidant, shared the deepest bond in the keeping of our ruthless secrets.

And now, she’s supporting me in a way that I’d never expected. Letting me move on when I always held her back. “You’ve been a better friend than I’ve given you credit for.”

“Back at you.” She squeezes my hand. “A really good friend, Hudson. You saved me, you know.”

I meet her eyes. They’re still watery, and she blinks several times, probably trying to keep her tears from spilling. It occurs to me that I owe Celia the same acknowledgment. If not for her pushing me to the game, I wouldn’t have Alayna now. I don’t have the time or the words to explain the extent of my gratitude, so I simply say, “You saved me too.”

She squeezes my hand once more before letting it go. “I have to go back. Good luck, Hudson. I mean that.” Then she leaves.

Alayna and Mirabelle appear with impeccable timing. The ache that always fills me when Alayna’s not with me eases at the sight of her. But my mind is tied up in the encounter with Celia. Long after we’ve left the restaurant and are buckled in the back of the limo, I’m replaying phrases, coming to a fuller understanding of truths that were exposed in our brief conversation.

I dwell most on what I’ve done to Celia throughout our friendship. And also on what I’ve done to Alayna, what I’m still keeping from her. These thoughts send me into a spiral of self-loathing and deprecation that I haven’t ever experienced. Not at this level.

When we arrive at the penthouse, I’m so consumed in myself that I send Alayna away, telling her I have work to do. I can’t be with her when I’m like this. She doesn’t deserve this. I don’t deserve her. Still I won’t let her go. I can never let her go, no matter how unworthy I am.

But how long before she discovers the worst of me and leaves? More and more, I feel the inevitability of that day. And then will it destroy her like it destroyed Celia? I can’t bear the thought.

The cursor blinks on the empty document open on my computer screen, keeping me locked in my pitiful trance as the night passes. I’m aware of Alayna in the background—always aware of her. She runs on the treadmill, her music blaring through the house stereo as she does. She showers. Then the house quiets, and I assume she’s gone to bed.

Lyrics from one of the songs she played stays with me—a woman’s voice singing about her darkness, wondering if her lover could love her dark side. It’s apropos, and I wonder if Alayna realizes it. I wonder if my distance tonight has pushed her away already. I don’t want to push her away; I want to pull her in.

Then what the fuck am I doing sitting alone at my desk?

I shake my head at my stupidity. I’d told her earlier that I was with her. Always with her. It was a promise that I’ve already broken because here I am wrapped in my self-hate, and that’s miles away from her and her love.

I turn off my computer and go to her. Undressing quickly, I slip into the covers and spoon behind her. She’s naked, and I know that it’s an invitation. So, though she’s sleeping, I wrap my hands around her torso and kiss along the angles of her body.

She sighs into me, opening her legs for me so I can slip my cock into her warmth. We make love like this, quietly, intently. In this silent act of passion, she brings me back—back to the man that can be trusted and loved and present.

Afterward, when we’ve found our breathing, when we’ve found each other, she asks, “Where did you go? Earlier.”

I nuzzle against her. “Does it matter? I’m here now.”

She wants more, words that I can’t give, promises that she’s not ready to hear, walls to crumble that are too strongly built. There are things I can’t tell her—not yet, not ever—but there are also things I can say. I pull her underneath me, stretching my body on top of her so she can feel the weight of my company. So that everywhere our skin meets, she can feel I’m with her.

I rock into her and begin whispering in the language of love. “Mon amour. Mon précieux,” I say at her ear. “Mon chéri. Mon bien-aimé.” My love. My precious. My cherished. My beloved.

I tell her this over and over in between kisses as I roll in and out of her. I tell her that I’m with her. Always with her. With all that I can give her. With every part of me that matters—the places that she’s awakened, the dark corners that she’s lit with her love.

I can’t give her all of me, but I can do this. I pray that it’s enough.