And she’d say that she wouldn’t. She’d promise me forever.
But I won’t let her make that promise. If she found out what I’ve done, she wouldn’t be able to keep it.
***
My phone rings in the middle of the night. In a state of half-sleep, I reach toward the coffee table where I’d left it before settling down on the couch. Then I stop myself. It’s probably Alayna—and God, how I want it to be her—but I don’t have the strength to deny her right now. Not in the dark hours of the night when I want her so desperately that I’ll say and do anything to have her.
I sit up and scrub my hands over my face. I’m awake now. Actually, I’m surprised I slept at all. I look at the time. It’s almost three. I guess I slept more than I thought. I’d gotten in around midnight. As I’d said I would, I’d gone to the charity ball with Norma and even managed to chat up Stuart Reed. I think I did my job of convincing him that Werner Media was a good investment, but before I had a chance to confirm it, I’d gotten a text from Reynold, Alayna’s second shift bodyguard, telling me that not only was Celia at The Sky Launch, but that Alayna had dismissed him for the night.
Needless to say, I was furious. And worried as hell.
I grabbed Norma, and we took off for the club. Unsafe as it was to drive under emotional duress and talk on the phone, I called Alayna anyway. I kept her on the phone until I arrived at the curb outside. With my own eyes, I saw Celia leave. Alayna was safe, thank God. But she’d seen me—seen me with Norma, dressed up for a night out.
How do I only seem to dig myself deeper? Of course, that’s why she wants to talk to me. I should explain. The deal is so close to coming to fruition, maybe that’s one thing I can share with Alayna. But if Celia has Alayna tapped or bugged…I can’t risk Celia finding out about this before it happens.
So I’ll have to keep this silent too.
My phone starts ringing again, and it takes everything I have not to pick it up and chuck it across the room. Possibly the thing that stops me is realizing that the screen isn’t flashing Alayna’s name; it’s flashing Adam’s.
My heart is in my throat when I answer. “Adam?” I don’t wait for him to answer. “What’s wrong? Is it Mirabelle?”
“She’s having contractions,” he says. “We’re at Lennox Hill.”
“The baby?” It’s too familiar—this unknowing ache. A fragile being that I’ve yet to meet but already care so much for. And that it’s Mirabelle…this can’t happen. I can’t bear it if this happens. Not to her.
Adam’s voice is tight. “We don’t know yet. God, we don’t know anything yet.”
“I’ll be right there.” I hang up and don’t give it a second thought before texting Jordan. Then I push the top number on my speed dial list. “Alayna. I need you.”
“What is it?” Three short words, but her love and care are evident.
“Mira. At the hospital. The baby…” I choke up, unable to say more.
“I’ll be right there.”
“Jordan’s already on his way to get you.” I hold the phone to my chest for several minutes after she hangs up. This may be as close to holding her as I get tonight, and I cherish it.
At the hospital, Adam texts that Mirabelle’s been moved to the obstetrics ward, but I wait for Alayna before going up there. I can’t see my sister like this. I’m weak. I’m a mess. I need my strength.
Then, there it is—my strength. Alayna walks in wearing yoga pants and a T-shirt, and she’s more beautiful than anyone I’ve ever seen. My pulse slows ever so slightly, and air seems to finally move through my lungs better than it had just a moment before. She does this for me. She gives and gives, without knowing, even when I distance myself from her. Even when I’ve wounded her, she’s here to repair me.
The truth of my situation is beginning to take root inside me. Everything about her is light. I cannot continue to keep her in darkness forever.
When she reaches me, we fall into step together. We head to the elevator, and I catch her up on what I know. When she reaches her hand out to me, I take it. I shouldn’t. The last thing I want to do is complicate things for her. But I can’t not touch her any longer. I hold it as long as I can before the feel of her skin against mine makes me want more of her, all of her. Then I let it go, and forbid myself the comfort of her touch again.
Before we’ve reached Mirabelle’s floor, I’ve already broken that deal. I brush my thumb across her cheek. It’s a habit, I realize, to hold and caress her. I have to try harder.
We find the rest of the family rather quickly. My parents, Chandler, and Adam are all waiting outside Mirabelle’s room. I tense. It’s too reminiscent of the last time I came to the hospital to see a woman in the maternity ward. Fortunately, the story I receive this time is very different. Adam insures us that Mirabelle—and the baby—are fine. For now. She’d gotten dehydrated, that’s all.
I want to fucking kill her. Rushing to the hospital out of dead fear because she didn’t bother to carry around a water bottle?
But of course I don’t really want to kill her. I’m relieved. I’m so very relieved. And I have to believe that there is some sort of justice in this world, some sort of higher power that recognizes the goodness of the woman that I’m fortunate enough to call my sister. While many of the women in my life seem to be cursed for loving me, Mirabelle seems to have remained unscathed. I spend a silent moment in gratitude, thanking whoever or whatever for sparing her.
My eyes flicker to Alayna. Now, whom do I have to pray to in order to save her?
Chapter Twenty-Three
I’ve called Adam to check up on Mirabelle five times in the last two days, and I’ve texted even more frequently. Of course, I’d always worry about her, but the separation from Alayna makes me even more anxious in general. Since I still can’t find the words she needs to hear, I attempt to avoid all thought of her. It’s impossible, but I try anyway, throwing my energy into preparing for my trip this afternoon to finish the deal with GlamPlay and worrying about Mirabelle.
I’ve just settled in at my desk after lunch with a cup of black coffee when Patricia intercoms me. “Mirabelle Sitkin on the line for you.” Seems my sister’s beat me to the call today.
“Send it back.” I take a large swallow from my coffee, letting the phone ring three times before picking it up. I’m not sleeping well, and my morning caffeine has seemed to have worn off. “Mirabelle, aren’t I supposed to be the one checking up on you?”
“That’s exactly why I’m calling.” Her voice is light and bubbly. “Adam says you’ve been harassing him.”
“Harassing? That’s a fine description for brotherly concern.”
“And I adore the concern. I really do.” She lets out a sigh. “But between you and Mom and Dad and Adam…I think a once-a-day friendly text will do just fine.”
I sit back in my chair and swivel back and forth as I speak. “You know, if you’d let me hire a nurse to follow you around like I suggested, I wouldn’t need to check in.”
“Hudson, I don’t need a nurse. I’m married to a doctor. Remember?”
I shrug even though she can’t see it. “And you were married to a doctor when you were admitted to the hospital three nights ago. It’s obviously not enough.”
“Oh, my God. Are you serious?”
“Very.” I stop my swiveling and lean on the desk in front of me. “But if you say you’re fine and promise me that you’re drinking and resting—”
“—I am!”
“Then I’ll agree to one call and one text a day.” This is a hard concession for me to make. I pinch the bridge of my nose as I force myself to accept it. Besides, I reason with myself, I have to fly to Los Angeles for the weekend, and I’ll likely not have time for anything more.
“Deal,” she agrees. “I’m glad we got that worked out. But that isn’t really why I’m calling.”
“Oh?” And now I remember why I’d done all my checking in with my brother-in-law. I was afraid of the conversation that I’m
certain she’s about to embark on.
“Nope. You and Laynie…”
It’s kind the way she trails off, letting me fill in the blanks rather than asking me straight out. But I know that if I don’t answer the way she wants, she’ll become more direct. I’m not surprised that she’s asking. She’d noticed we were…strained…when we visited her at the hospital. She’d even sent Alayna and me out of the room to repair whatever was wrong. The time alone with Alayna was hard. Still worked up over the cause for our emergency visit, the rift between us seemed so inconsequential. But, of course, it isn’t. And though I wanted to do nothing but pull her into my arms and confess every secret, including how much I love her, I refrained.
For Mirabelle’s sake, we agreed to set aside our issues and put on a happy face. It seemed like my sister bought it. She convinced Alayna of that, anyway. I knew better. Mirabelle has a knack for reading people. She has a knack for reading me. I’ve never been able to fool her.
So I don’t begin to think I can fool her now. “I fucked up, Mirabelle.” That about sums it up.
“What did you do?” Her voice is low and tense, and I momentarily regret saying anything. Not because I’m not willing to share but because I’m worried about stressing her out.
But it’s out now. I don’t have to say everything, but I have to say something. “I lied to her.”
“And she found out?” She doesn’t ask the details of my deceit, which I appreciate.
“Yes. She found out. But there’s more I haven’t told her, more I need to say.” I’m surprised that I’m spilling my soul so easily. And it feels good. All the build-up, I think I’ve been desperate to talk to someone. Since I’d never initiate a conversation, I’m suddenly grateful that Mirabelle did.
“Okay.” She takes a breath that’s deep enough I can hear it through the line. “So you need to tell her, but you haven’t?”
“No.”
“Because you’re afraid of…what?”
“Losing her.” Just saying the words makes my throat tight.
“But you won’t know that unless you tell her. Will you?”
Isn’t that the question of the decade. The question of my lifetime, actually. It’s been four days since I declared we needed time. Four nights that I haven’t buried myself inside her, haven’t felt her clench around me, haven’t fallen asleep to the sound of her rhythmic breathing. Four days and nights—it feels like forever. And still I don’t know what I should do.
I realize that time is not going to give me any answers. It won’t be away from Alayna that I’ll find the strength to make this choice.
I’m quiet too long. Mirabelle says, “Your silence leads me to believe you aren’t going to.” Her disappointment is heavy in her tone.
“Not true. My silence is only a product of not having a response.”
“Well, then.” She pauses, and I can sense her wanting to say more. Finally, she says, “Do you want my advice?”
“If I say no, will you refrain from giving it anyway?”
“Probably not.” She considers. “Definitely not.”
“Then by all means, go ahead.” I shoot a glance toward my liquor cabinet, wondering if it’s too early to spike my coffee.
“I’m not going to ask what you’re keeping from her.” She’s pacing; I’m sure of it. She likes to walk as she lectures. “If it’s something you don’t want to tell her, I’m sure it’s not something you want to tell me. But, I know that you could tell me anything, and I would still love you. And not just because I’m your sister. And though it’s hard to admit this, I kinda get the sense that Laynie loves you even more than I do. She chose you. Out of everyone out there who she could love or who could love her, she chose you, Hudson. I have to believe she sees that thing about you too. That thing you think doesn’t exist. That thing that makes all your bull worth it. And if she sees that, if she loves that as much as I think she does? Then I don’t think there’s anything you can say that will make you lose her. Even if it’s the ugliest secret of all time.”
“Even if it’s the worst betrayal you can imagine?” Her sentiment is pretty. But it’s naïve.
She pauses, and I know she’s preparing for more of her happy-ever-after spiel. For once, Mirabelle surprises me. “Did I ever tell you that I cheated on Adam?”
“Uh, no.” I’m hoping she doesn’t tell me now.
“A long time ago. Before we were even engaged. I slept with another guy.”
I’m shocked. Mirabelle has always been the picture of loyalty and commitment. “I don’t know if I want to hear this.”
She plows ahead anyway. “I was stupid. But it was really shitty. I mean, he knew the guy. They were roommates in their undergrad program. And we were serious at the time—Adam and I. I just…I don’t know. It was stupid. I did something stupid. And for stupid reasons too. I wanted to get Adam’s attention. Can you believe that? Well, it sure got his attention. Also, almost lost me the love of my life.”
“Mirabelle…” I’m not sure what to say.
“No, no, it’s fine now. The point is that fidelity is important in any relationship, but even more so for Adam because his previous girlfriend cheated, and, well, that’s a whole other story. Anyway.” She huffs into the receiver. “Cheating is the ultimate betrayal for him. And we worked things out. It wasn’t easy, but here we are. So, yeah, I believe forgiveness happens. Even in the Pierce family.”
I’m still stunned. I’m also not convinced my situation with Alayna is anything like Mirabelle’s. For one thing, anyone who doesn’t recognize my sister is the catch of a lifetime is crazy, no matter what her sins. But I’m moved by her confession. “Thank you for telling me that. It does give some perspective.”
“Hudson, don’t just smile and nod and then dismiss everything I’m saying.” God, she knows me too well. “Because here’s the other thing. Lies like those? They grow. They grow between you like big black holes. Pretty soon you can’t see each other through the darkness. And that part of you that Laynie loves? She won’t be able to find it anymore through the cloud. In other words, you can tell her the truth and give her the chance to prove she loves you anyway. Or you can let the lie grow until she leaves you because she doesn’t know who you are anymore. It may be just me, but I think you have a better shot with the truth.”
Twenty minutes after I’ve hung up with Mirabelle, her words are still rooted in my head, clinging to my conscience like mold on spoiled fruit. I can’t concentrate on anything else. I’ve read the same email from Stuart Reed three times now and still haven’t gotten anything from it. When I notice he’s copied Norma, I give up on it. If it’s important, she’ll fill me in on our flight.
Thinking of my flight…I should tell Alayna that I’m leaving town. I pick up my cell phone and begin a text. Then I delete it. I can’t even seem to say something as simple as By the way, I’ll be in L.A. through the weekend. She’ll want to know more—she deserves to know more—and once again, I can’t give it.
Instead, I text Jordan. Checking in, how’s Alayna today?
He responds quickly. What do you mean? Isn’t she with you?
I’m alarmed enough by this response to call him directly. “Why would she be with me?”
Jordan sounds genuinely confused. “I dropped her off about twenty minutes ago. She said she was going to surprise you.”
It would have been a nice surprise. “Well, she’s not here.”
“She’s somewhere in the building,” Jordan insists. “I’ve been sitting out front this whole time.”
There are other exits out of Pierce Industries, but they’d be difficult for her to get to. It’s possible that she gave Jordan the slip, but for some reason, I don’t think that’s her plan. “Stay on the line while I check the loft.”
Maybe she did plan to surprise me. Naked in my bed upstairs. I can hope, anyway.
While I take the private elevator up to my quarters, I question Jordan further. “You’re supposed to report whenever she goes anywhere
. Why didn’t you tell me when you got here?”
“She asked me to give her a few minutes. After that, I figured you would have already worked it out.” Jordan sounds as anxious as I feel. “Do you want me to come up?”
“No. Stay out there. Watch the doors.” I’m in the loft now. Even without checking the bedroom and the bath, I know she’s not here. The room feels too ordinary. I’d sense her if she were here.
God, I’m beginning to sound like Mirabelle.
“She’s not here,” I tell Jordan. And now I’m fully concerned. “I’m checking the live camera feeds. Contact security and have them review the last half hour’s tapes. See if we can trace her.”
I end the call and head back down the elevator. After checking to make sure my secretary hasn’t seen her, I return to my office. The closet in the far corner houses a private media cabinet. Here, I have a system set up to duplicate all the camera feeds from the main security desk. These don’t record anything except for the cameras around my office. A quick scan through all the feeds of the main hallways and elevators turns up no sight of her. Not expecting to find anything on the recordings—she’d be here if she came to my floor, after all—I rewind frame by frame anyway.
Then I see her. Getting off the elevator outside my office. Instead of coming in, though, she darts down the hallway, away from me, and toward—
My phone rings. It’s Jordan. “We found her on your floor,” he says. “It seems she went to another office. Uh, getting the name now. It’s—”
“—Norma Anders,” I finish for him. I shouldn’t be surprised. Actually, I’m not really. I’m also kind of proud. And a whole lot irritated. “Is she still there?”
Hudson Page 31
