The Perfect Illusion

by Winter Renshaw

  The weight of his words sink into every part of me before settling in my chest.

  But it still hurts.

  “You should know that telling you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life,” I say. “I didn’t want to hurt you.” Clearing my throat, I add, “But imagine how I felt when your mother tells me you were never expected to marry Audrina. You lied to me, Hudson. I agreed to help you. But I didn’t agree to be used for some sick little revenge fantasy.”

  His eyes squint, and he bites his lower lip before lowering his head.

  “Yeah,” he says, exhaling before pinching the bridge of his nose. “She was my first love. We were together for years, planning to marry. I found out she was fucking my best friend, and I guess it kind of did a number on me. I’m over her now, of course. Have been for years. But I couldn’t suppress this part of me that wanted to get one last dig at her. When we were kids, we always said that if neither of us were married by thirty, we’d marry each other. This would’ve been the year. Guess I wanted to stick it to her one last time, and watching her see me happy, knowing she could see that I’d moved on and found someone a million times better than her, was the final piece that I needed to close that chapter. In retrospect, it was really fucking sideways thinking, and I’m sorry I pulled you into it.”

  My arms fold across my chest and I pull in a deep breath. As much as I want to be angry with him still, I can’t.

  “That explains so much about you,” I say. “That explains everything about you, actually.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You were heartbroken. You couldn’t trust anyone after what she did, so you became cold and unfeeling. You refused to commit to another woman because you were scared of getting hurt again,” I say. “And the fact that you needed to do something so extreme in order to feel vindicated once and for all, as fucked up as it is, Hudson, is actually understandable. You’re only human. And you were hurting.”

  He rolls his eyes, sniffing. “There’s no excuse for what I did. Don’t feel sorry for me, Mari.”

  “I don’t,” I say. “But I get it.”

  Inhaling the scent of flowers and soil and feeling the lawn heat beneath my bare feet and the morning sun, I give him a surrendering gaze.

  “So what now?” I ask. “Where do we go from here?”

  His brows lift, as if he’s shocked that I’m alluding to the fact that maybe this isn’t over for me.

  “You still want to be with me?” he asks.

  Biting my lip and holding out my red, rubber-snapped wrist, I say, “Yeah, Hudson. For some completely insane reason … I do.”

  He reaches for me, cradling my hips in his hands and pulling me against his sweaty, iron-steel physique, and I laugh.

  “It feels good to hold you again.” His blue gaze captures mine, and he brushes my hair from my eyes. “God, I’ve missed you.”

  “Before we get things back on track, I have to ask you one thing,” I say.

  “Anything.”

  “At the risk of sounding like a jealous psycho girlfriend, who was that blonde girl leaving your house last night?” I ask, one eye squinted.

  His full lips smirk. “You were stalking me?”

  “Just answer the damn question, Rutherford.”

  “That was my real estate agent. She came by to drop off some listings she wanted me to consider.”

  “I have to admit, watching you stare at her as she left made me a little … jealous. And I’m not the jealous type.”

  Dragging his hand across his mouth he chuckles. “She was in six-inch heels. And that sidewalk is a broken fucking mess. I was just ensuring I wasn’t about to have a lawsuit on my hands.”

  Oh.

  “Fair enough,” I say. “One more thing though.”

  “What now?” He stifles a chuckle, and I love the relief in his eyes. It gives me hope.

  “No more secrets. No more lies,” I say. “Ever again. No matter what.”

  “Deal.”

  “And another thing,” I add.

  “You’re not holding back with the contingencies, are you?”

  “I want us to apologize to my parents. And yours,” I say. “Together.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “One last thing.” I lift on my toes, placing my hands on his shoulders and grinning. My body is ripe with anticipation, hungry with want.

  “Okay …”

  “Kiss me like you did the first time,” I say.

  Hudson wastes no time, his mouth finding mine, claiming me as his while his hand slides along my jaw and the other circles my waist. I’m not sure if my feet are touching the ground or the butterflies in my stomach have any intentions of slowing down. All I know is he’s ruined me for any other man.

  And now … after everything … I’m finally okay with that.

  Chapter 44

  Hudson

  Mari stepping through the FLW house that night feels nothing short of surreal at this point, but after everything that’s transpired, I’m glad she’s here.

  “Wright was known for horizontal lines and wide open floor plans,” I say. “Everything is supposed to feel organic, and as you’re standing outside, the house is meant to blend in with the flat, Midwestern prairie. There’s this sense of unity with his homes. Everything works together. Everything fits. It’s all very natural and a lot of people feel that this type of harmonious design—”

  “—it’s beautiful,” she says, gushing as she moves from space to space, room to room. “I always thought this house looked so dark from the outside, but it’s not at all. There are so many windows.”

  “The linear frames on the top half of the walls let in more light than you’d think.” I follow her. “Oh. Before I forget, I have to go back to the city tomorrow. I’ll be here every other week and any other time you need me. Why don’t you come with? We can go back and forth together.”

  “That’s a lot of traveling.” She glances down, her hand on her stomach. “Maybe sometimes?”

  “Why don’t you just move back with me?” I propose a greedy solution without so much as thinking it over, but it doesn’t matter. I want to be with this woman, and I’ll move heaven and earth.

  Mari locks eyes with me, sucking her lower lip. “I don’t want to raise the baby in the city.”

  “And why not?”

  “I love the city.” She spreads her hand over her chest. “New York is everything. But it’s a different way of life, and I want this baby to grow up close to family, in a cozy little town that lives life a little slower. I don’t want to shuffle this kid up and down Manhattan from preschool interview to preschool interview and then wonder how the hell I’m going to afford rent and tuition.”

  “Mari, it wouldn’t be like that,” I say, head tilted. “I’d take care of you. Both of you.”

  “It’s kind of you to offer, but my mind is made up. I’m staying here.” Her eyes hold a mix of both sadness and hope. “I hope that doesn’t change anything … between us.”

  Pulling her against me, I press my lips to the top of her head. “Never.”

  Cupping her face, I lift her chin until her lips align with mine, then I taste their sweetness.

  “In that case, there’s one room I wanted to show you.” I say.

  Taking her hand in mine, I lead her past the kitchen and through the reading room, down a hallway and around a corner until we find a cozy bedroom on the east side of the house next to the master suite.

  “Might be hard to imagine it now, but I thought this could be your nursery.” I look to Mari, waiting for her reaction and watching as disbelief registers on her face. “These windows are high enough so daylight will start to peek through just after sunrise in the morning. The sun sets in the west, so the room should be nice and dark in the evening. I don’t know much about babies or how they sleep, but I assume those things might help when you’re trying to establish some kind of bedtime routine.”

  “Hudson …”

  “The room’s bi
g enough for a crib and a rocking chair,” I say, moving about. “You could put a changing table here. The closet is good-sized too. And you’re just a few steps away from the master.”

  “I can’t live here,” she says, fighting a smile that tells me she’d do it in a heartbeat.

  “I want you to,” I say. “I thought about selling it. And then I thought about donating it to some local historical society. But I decided earlier today that I want you to have it.”

  “That’s too generous. I can’t. I’d love to. But I can’t.”

  “Why not?” I scoff.

  “You can’t just give me a house,” she says. “That’s insane.”

  “It’s my gift to you,” I say. “Besides, you can’t live with your parents the rest of your life. You need a place to call your own—you and the baby. This house is perfect for a family. There’s a huge yard out back and a huge oak tree just waiting for a custom fort—which I’d be happy to design. Plus, you love this street. And you can’t put a price on history.”

  “You don’t have to sell me on this house,” she says. “I know it’s going to be incredible by the time you’re finished. But you can’t just give it to me.”

  “I can. And I am.”

  She saunters up to me, playfully slapping my chest before rising on her toes and pressing her sweet mouth against mine.

  “I don’t even know what to say right now.” Her eyes are lit from within, and she can’t stop grinning. “You’ll live here, too, right?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  Mari nods quickly, lips pulling wide as she slips her arms over my shoulders and rises on the balls of her feet.

  Sliding my hands down her outer thighs, I pull her up and against me, carrying her to the next room where I’ve been sleeping when I’m here. There’s a queen-sized air mattress on the floor and canvas painter’s cloths covering the windows. A small lamp in the corner gives off just enough light, but I’m not concerned about the ambience or amenities right now.

  Mari slides down my body, her fingers tugging at her clothes then mine before she falls to her knees and takes me in her mouth. Her free hand travels up my lower stomach, then higher, her nails digging into my flesh as she swirls her tongue around the tip of my aching cock, tasting the bead of precum as it forms.

  Taking her time, she indulges me as if the pleasure’s all hers, but my impatience gets the better of me, and the craving of her taste on my tongue forces me to interrupt.

  “Lie on the mattress,” I tell her, dropping to my knees and pumping my cock in my hands. The mere sight of this woman gets me hard as a fucking rock.

  Mari lies back, and my fingers skim the soft flesh between her knees, rising higher until I reach the apex. Sliding a finger between her slick folds, I lower my mouth to her glistening pussy to taste her arousal.

  Soft moans leave her lips as I slip my tongue between her seam and circle her tender clit. Sliding my left hand up her soft belly toward her swollen breasts, I feel her quiver as I help myself to a handful.

  Her body, her heart … it all belongs to me now.

  And mine to her.

  Rising over her fevered body, my eyes catch the wanton gaze in hers, and I position the tip of my cock at her wet pussy, pushing myself inside her with one fell thrust.

  Mari lifts her arms above her head, sighing and wrapping her legs around my sides. Her hips rock as I thrust, settling into the perfect rhythm.

  Slowing down, I take my time so we can both enjoy this. Too many times over the years, I’ve taken my greedy fill and shown the woman the door the second it was over, biding my time until my next lay. I always needed to be the one to say goodbye, the one to cut the ties first. It was an assembly line void of emotion, with just enough satisfaction to meet my feral needs.

  But it’s different now.

  I want this to last.

  And I want it to last forever.

  “I love you, Mari,” I whisper, our eyes meeting. I said it to her outside her house earlier, but she never said it back. Granted, we were both a bit worked up, but I think she needs to hear it again. And I want to tell her. I want to tell her how special she is to me. “You’re the second woman I’ve ever said that to, but this is the first time I’ve ever meant it. And I know that because you’ve shown me what it means to look into the eyes of a woman who doesn’t want anything from me but … me.”

  With a slow, gentle smile, she cups my face in her hands. “I love you too.”

  She loves me.

  Maribel Collins … loves me.

  Chapter 45

  Mari

  “Oh, shit.” I wake to the sensation of warm sun on my face as it bakes through the painter’s cloths covering the prairie-style windows of the master bedroom.

  “What?” Hudson stirs awake, rolling to his side and throwing his arm over me.

  “I forgot to tell my parents I wasn’t coming home last night.”

  He chuckles. “What are you? Seventeen?”

  Scrambling up from the mattress, I gather my clothes from the floor, tugging them on and yanking them into place as I fluff my hair.

  “They worry,” I say. “I’m the only kid they’ve got, so …”

  “Yeah,” he says, sitting up. “Not that I can relate, but I get it.”

  “I’m going to have to explain this, you know. I’ve been cursing your name for weeks,” I say. “Anyway, care to join me? Maybe we can get that little apology thing out of the way while we’re at it?”

  I toss him a wink. He’s not getting out of this.

  Smirking, he sits up, rubbing his eyes. The blanket rests at his waist and I enjoy the view of his tan, muscled arms and shoulders as I replay last night in my mind.

  “Just let me grab a shower,” he says, “then we’ll go.”

  Twenty minutes later, we stroll hand-in-hand down the block and around the corner. My parents are generally forgiving people, but this situation might very well be the exception … we won’t find out until we get there.

  I open the front door a few minutes later, glancing up the split foyer toward the kitchen table where my mother rises as if I’ve startled her.

  “Abel, she’s home,” she calls.

  My father’s slow yet thunderous footsteps trail from the upstairs hallway and I brace myself, squeezing Hudson’s hand tight.

  “I’m sorry,” I say to them, searching their faces for any indication of how this is going to go.

  I’m prepared for a lecture. If my pregnant daughter—grown adult or not—went for a walk and failed to return home without so much as a call, I’d let her have it.

  “Next time, call.” Mom sighs, heading to the kitchen sink and rinsing some plates before starting a load of dishes in the dishwasher.

  Hudson and I exchange looks before climbing the stairs to the main level and taking a seat at the kitchen island.

  “I hope I didn’t keep you up all night,” I say. “You were probably worried.”

  “We knew where you were,” my dad says.

  “You did?” I half-laugh.

  “Where else would you be?” Mom tsk-tsks. “All you talk about is Hudson, Hudson, Hudson. We knew he was in town. You went for a walk; we saw you head that way. We figured it out.”

  “You have to give us more credit than that,” Dad adds.

  Sitting up straight, I glance at Hudson again. He shrugs.

  “We had a serious talk last night,” Hudson begins, turning toward my father. “We’ve each apologized for the hurt we caused one another. And we’ve realized we want to make this work. We’re going to make this work.”

  He turns to my mother.

  “I love your daughter,” he says. “And I’m sorry for what I put you through—for misleading you. I promise I’ll never hurt her again. She’s got me—all of me—for the rest of her days.”

  My parents are quiet for a moment, letting his words sink in, and then my mom comes around the island, throwing her arms around his shoulders.

  “Welcome back,” she says
, her tone warm and her smile gracious.

  My father approaches Hudson like a quiet storm, apprehensive at first and then aggressively coming in for a handshake.

  “You get one more chance,” he says. “Don’t blow it.”

  Hudson meets his hand and they lock eyes. “I won’t, sir.”

  Chapter 46

  Mari

  Three weeks later …

  I didn’t think I’d be showing this soon, but I swear there’s a bump there.

  Or maybe it’s last night’s five course dinner at Tavern on the Green …

  Rolling over in Hudson’s bed, I’m greeted with an early morning Manhattan skyline and a reminder of how much I’ve missed it these last several weeks.

  I came back with him this week because with everything going on, I forgot to transfer my medical records from Dr. Gupta’s office to one in Orchard Hill, and since I already had my twelve-week ultrasound scheduled, it was easier just to come here.

  “Your appointment’s in an hour.” Hudson takes a seat on the edge of his bed, a plush gray towel wrapped around his narrow waist and a blue toothbrush sticking out of his perfect mouth. The scent of aftershave and clean soap permeates the air, and I close my eyes, dragging it into my lungs. I wish I could bottle up this moment, keeping it on standby every time I miss him.

  I’ll be flying home solo this week while he stays and gets caught up at the office. He’s bringing on a partner soon, on a temporary basis, to lighten the load as he finishes the Frank Lloyd Wright house, but I have a feeling the further along the pregnancy goes, the more he’ll want to spend his time in the Midwest.