My eyes glanced toward the bathroom. If I went in there now, would the scent of clean Hudson still be lingering from his morning shower? I’d go there next.
But first, the bed…
I fell across the mattress. This time when I inhaled, he was there in abundance. I wrapped my arms tight around his pillow and closed my eyes, breathing him in and out and in. And out. The scent soothed me, calmed me. The ache in my chest released ever so slightly. The tension behind my temples abated. For the first time in days, I felt okay.
Closing my eyes, I let the fantasy wash over me. Let myself forget the hurt and betrayal and pretended Hudson and I could be together again in all the ways we used to be. I imagined his lips on me—phantom kisses along my neck and down my torso that sent shivers down my spine and caused my toes to curl. Then his hands, caressing and kneading my body, reawakening my skin with his simple touch. Adoring me physically but with so much concentration and attention that the effort had to come from true and pure love.
I was still lying on the bed, lost in my daydream, when the private elevator arrived in the next room.
My eyes flew open. Had I imagined it?
Then Hudson’s voice filled the air.
Fuck!
And he was talking to someone—he wasn’t alone.
I scrambled off the bed and crouched by the floor considering what to do next. It sounded like he was still in the back of the loft, near the kitchen. I crawled to the wall next to the doorframe. There I could peek out and get a better idea of the situation and still stay hidden from the living area. As long as they didn’t come in the bedroom, I’d be fine.
But if they did come in the bedroom…
Gathering my courage, I peeked out and saw Hudson standing in front of the open refrigerator. He grabbed a bottle of water and turned toward his guest—toward me.
I pulled my head back around the corner. Did he see me? No, I didn’t think so.
Shit, shit, shit. All I could do was swear. And pray.
And eavesdrop.
“I haven’t been here in a while.” I hadn’t gotten a chance to look at his visitor, but I knew who it was from her voice. “I’d forgotten what a good job I’d done with the place.” Celia Werner.
My chest tightened and my eyes began to water.
I was gone barely a week, and he was bringing her to his loft? Why? To celebrate the slaughter of my soul? To plan their next game?
To connect?
Each possibility was worse than the last. This was heartache on top of heartache. Salt on the wound. A lesson to teach me not to give into my urges again.
Celia’s heels clicked on the cement floor.
Where was she going? I held my breath, my heart pounding. Maybe I should hide out in the bathroom. Then they wouldn’t see me if they came this way. But then I couldn’t hear what they were saying. And, besides, if they did need the bed…
God, I couldn’t think about that.
“Remember how I had to convince you to go with the leather couch?” she asked.
She was in the living area. If they stayed right there, I could pull this off.
“We’re not here for a walk down memory lane.” Hudson’s voice was cold.
Her footsteps paused. “Why are we here?”
Yes, Hudson, do tell. Though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
“Because we have some things to talk about, and they aren’t suitable for my office.”
“Then I can’t help but think of old times. Other conversations that weren’t appropriate for your office.” Her heels clicked again and then stopped. Then the leather of the sofa creaked as she took a seat.
I let out the breath I’d been holding.
Now Hudson’s shoes sounded on the floor. “If you want to relive those times, then do it on your own.” His voice got nearer.
Shit, f**k, dammit! He was headed my way.
But then I heard the rattling of ice in a glass. Slowly, I turned my head to the side. He was there—not ten feet away, fixing himself a drink at the bar. If he looked over and down, he’d see me.
I froze, not blinking, not even breathing; willing myself to fade into the wall. My heart thudded so loudly, I was certain he could hear it.
Except he didn’t. He finished making his drink, then turned back to face Celia.
“Come on, Huds.” Her tone was playful, cajoling, in complete opposition to his. “You act like we never had any fun together.”
“That was a lifetime ago, Celia.” Though he was still merely steps away, his words were distant. “It’s time to move on.”
Celia laughed. “Because of her?”
“Who? Alayna?” A chill ran through my body. Jesus, even when he said my name to someone else, it had the same effect as when he said it to me. “Yes. And no.” He paused. “We aren’t together anymore.”
And hearing him say that—it was as painful as when I’d said it to Mira. The verbalization of it made it so real. So final.
Celia seemed overjoyed with the news. “Am I supposed to be sad?”
“Why would I expect that? That was your intended outcome, after all.” He moved forward, out of my sightline. Then there was another creak of furniture. He’d sat in the chair across from her, I guessed.
I struggled with listening to them talk as I debated with myself—should I scurry to the other side of the doorframe? If he came back to the bar, I’d be better hidden. But if one of them went to the guest bathroom, then I’d be easily seen.
“No,” Celia said, “my intended outcome was that she’d go crazy after your break-up and end up back in her psycho obsession mode.”
I decided to stay put.
“Well, that’s not happening. She’s stronger than you thought.”
And yet, there I was, hiding in Hudson’s bedroom because I’d done exactly as predicted and gone stalker. It crushed me that he could believe otherwise—that he had no understanding of how much he could break me. Did he not get what he’d meant to me?
If he didn’t understand, Celia did. Perhaps it was a female thing. “Maybe. I’m not sure I agree. How long ago was this breakup?”
“A few days now.”
“Oh, give it time. She’ll be back. That girl was head over heels for you. She’s not walking away that easily. Not that type.”
I cringed at the accuracy with which she was describing me. It would fuel me to be strong, I decided. Otherwise, she’d win. Technically, she’d already won—I was here, after all. But if she didn’t know, then she couldn’t take it as a victory, right?