“Get dressed first and then it’s on.”
The dress she’d chosen for me looked stunning with the alterations she’d had done. Looking at myself in the mirror of the dressing room, I couldn’t help but remember when I’d first tried it on. It was the day Stacy had sent me the video. That had been the beginning of the end, hadn’t it? If only I hadn’t let my curiosity get the better of me.
I shook my head, tossing the thought aside. Today, I wouldn’t be sad. It was Mira’s day, and I didn’t want to ruin it for her. Even though I had waterproof mascara on, crying didn’t go well with makeup.
Besides, I couldn’t wish for anything to be different. Sure, I’d been happy with Hudson, but it had been a lie. The truth would have come out eventually. Better now than later.
When I was dressed, I found Mira, this time seated in a chair as she yelled at people. Adam must have forced her to sit.
She jumped up when she saw me, though, her eyes wide. “Oh my god, you’re so beautiful! You are definitely going to be the finale. Dammit, I wish Hudson could see you.” She clapped her hand over her mouth before I could scold her. “Sorry. It slipped out. It’s going to take a while to get used to the new situation.”
“Yeah, I get that.” I was still adjusting myself.
She wrapped her arm around mine. “Let me show you my baby. Well, one of my babies.” The new addition was beautiful but simple. There was more space to display clothing, a few more dressing rooms, a bigger workroom for the staff and a small runway.
“The stage is where we’ll do today’s show. In the future it will be for private fashion selection,” Mira explained as we finished up. “Some of these rich bitches are too lazy to try on their own clothes so we have models hired to do it for them.”
I laughed. Mira was a Pierce—she was probably richer than any of her clients, and she was neither lazy nor a bitch. I could certainly see her mother being one of the women she was referring to, though.
“Speaking of Sophia,” I said, looking around the shop, “where is she? Isn’t she coming?”
“Um, no.” She bent to pick a piece of lint off my skirt. “I banned her along with Hudson.”
“What?” Not that I was disappointed about Sophia’s absence. With as out-of-control drunk as she’d been the last time I saw her in a public situation, it was probably a good idea she wasn’t here.
Mira straightened but kept her eyes down. “I took your advice. We staged an intervention.”
“Oh, my god, Mira!” I reached my hand out to touch her arm.
She slid my hand into hers instead. “It was hard, but Hudson and Chandler and Adam and even Dad were there. We all sat her down and told her she needed to get help.” She met my eyes and flashed a somewhat forced smile.
I squeezed her hand. “When did this happen?” And how is Hudson handling it?
“Last night. She didn’t want to hear it, of course. But when I told her she couldn’t be a part of my life anymore if she didn’t get help, then she agreed. She checked into a long-term facility upstate this morning. Hudson, Dad, and Chandler drove her out.”
“Wow.” My chest ached in a way that was different from the past several days. Instead of hurting because of Hudson, I hurt for him.
“You know, I’ve never seen my mother sober—she might still be a bitch. But at least I could trust her not to drop my baby.”
I pushed thoughts of Hudson out of my mind yet again and studied the beautiful woman in front of me. Though I was twenty-six to her twenty-four years of age, she struck me as the most genuine, mature person I knew. Such a contradiction to her brother. Such a contradiction to myself.
She blushed under my stare. “What?”
“I’m just really amazed by you. That’s hard to stand up like that for someone you love and today you have your event…how are you dealing with all of this?”
“Honestly, except for being tired, I feel really good.” It was her turn to squeeze my hand. “The only thing I’m worrying about now is you and my brother.”
I pulled my hand away from hers. “I’m miserable enough without the guilt trip, thanks.” I studied my shoes, afraid that any more show of emotion might wreck me.
“He told us what he did to you.”
My eyes flew back up to meet hers. “What?”
“During mom’s intervention. He said that if we had any hope of being a family, then we needed to face our flaws and own up to our mistakes. He went back to therapy this week, and I think his doctor encouraged him to be open with us. So he owned up to what he did to you.” Her expression grew serious and sad. “I’m sorry he did that to you, Laynie. Really sorry. I’m not going to defend him. But I will say that he is full of regret.”
“I’m…” My throat tightened. “Dammit, Mira, you’re making me cry.”
She grasped my upper arms. “Don’t cry! Then I’ll cry and that will be a disaster. No more serious talk, except to say I love you. Thank you for being here.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
***
There was a little more to the modeling gig than standing and smiling. I also had to walk down the short runway, pose, and return. While the place seemed to be crawling with models, there were only seven of us in the show. We were able to run through it enough times in rehearsal that by the time the actual event started, I wasn’t so nervous that I couldn’t perform.
Frankly, I was happy for an emotion other than grief. I clung to it. Wrapped it around me like a blanket.
At two, the doors were opened and the event began. It wasn’t a big hurrah like the charity fashion show Sophia Pierce had hosted, but was elegant and important in its own way. Mira was a beautiful bird, floating around the room, talking to big name fashion designers and top clients that had been invited.
Then there was the press—they’d been limited to invitation only and were sequestered in an area near the stage, which made them less intimidating. I never got close enough to them to be hounded with their questions. If they wanted to know about me and Hudson, they’d have to ask him.
Would they even ask? When the next girl showed up on his arm in the limelight, would they ask what happened to that nightclub manager the same way they asked about Celia in front of me?
There were so many awful things about that scenario that I had to block it out with a glass of champagne.
At a quarter to three, I lined up with the other models along the horizontal length of the stage. This is where we stood while each person walked the runway. My placement as last in the show made me wish we were walking on from offstage instead of waiting there the whole time. It felt like hours that I had to stand still and smile while the other women walked and posed. Stacy described each item, crediting the designer and then explaining the individual alterations done by the boutique to make the outfit perfect for the wearer.
Finally it was my turn. I walked to the end of the runway with a smile that was surprisingly authentic. Butterflies stirred in my stomach as I stood at the end while Stacy talked about my dress. Photographers were flashing bulbs at me, but the room wasn’t dark as in a typical fashion show, and I could actually see the faces of the onlookers as I cast my gaze around the room.
That’s how I spotted Hudson so easily.
There, in the back, leaning against the wall. His hair was mussed and he was underdressed in a t-shirt and jeans. His eyes were pinned on me—hell, the whole room’s focus was on me—but his were the only eyes I felt. Even across that distance I could sense that electrical current, the simmer in my belly that spurred the butterflies to dance more frantically than before.
Our gazes locked and without thinking to let it happen, my smile widened.
God, it was good to see him.
Then Stacy finished her speech, the crowd applauded, and it was time to turn around and walk back to my place along the back of the stage. With my back to him, the momentary elation disappeared, and all the shit rumbled back over me like a Mack truck. The deceit, the hurt, the garbage
—and he wasn’t supposed to be there!
Though I was the final model, I had to remain on stage while Stacy introduced Mira, and then while Mira spoke about her renovations and made her acknowledgements. I was still in the limelight, but I couldn’t stop fidgeting and wiping my sweaty palms along my skirt.
He’s here, he’s here. What do I do?
I tried to keep my attention on Mira, but my eyes kept darting back to Hudson. Every time, he was already looking at me. It wouldn’t be easy to escape. Especially because I couldn’t just run out—my purse and belongings were still in the back. I could leave my clothes, but I needed money for a cab or my subway card. He was across the room, though, and there were lots of people—perhaps I could sneak away before he got to me.
The minute the final applause began, I took off. As discreetly as possible, I slipped off the stage and to the back hall, hoping Hudson didn’t see me and follow.
Or hoping he did follow. I couldn’t quite decide.
Of course my stuff was in the last dressing room in the hall, but I made it there without anyone behind me. My hands were shaking as I gathered my clothes from the floor where I’d left them. Looking around, I realized I had nothing to carry them in. Shit.
I could change. Or get them later.
Later.
I should have at least folded them, but there wasn’t time for that. Instead, I set them on the dressing room chair, grabbed my purse from the corner of the room where I’d stowed it under my clothing, and turned to go.
But there he was, filling the doorframe.
My shoulders sagged, but my stupid heart did a little dance.
Dammit, feelings were confusing.
He looked even better up close. Was it possible he’d gotten more attractive in our time apart? His blue-gray t-shirt hugged his muscles, which seemed more pronounced than I’d remembered. His faded dark jeans hung low around his trim hips. His eyes were soft and sad with bags underneath them that matched his sister’s. Matched mine.
And the way he looked at me…as if I were more than a silly, emotional, broken girl. As if I were someone who mattered. As if I were someone he loved.
“Hey,” he said softly. His voice was like the pied piper, calling goose bumps to the surface of my skin with just one word. Did he even know he had that effect on me?
The way his hands were stuffed in his pockets, making him look so boyish and innocent, I had to think he had no idea.
Except, no matter how he looked, he wasn’t innocent. Not at all. It was even manipulative that he’d shown up here.
I folded my arms over my chest, as if that could protect me from his piercing gaze. “You’re not supposed to be here, Hudson. Mira promised you wouldn’t be.”
He pursed his lips. “Mira had nothing to do with me coming.”
I started to say something snarky, and then softened as I remembered where he was supposed to be. “Weren’t you taking Sophia to rehab?”
God, that was blunt.
I wanted to say something more comforting, something to let him know I was feeling for him, but I was afraid my compassion might be construed as something else. So I left it at that.
“Already done. I hurried back.” He took a step into the room. “So I could talk to you.”
His quiet tone was so un-Hudson-like, it put me off-balance.
Or his presence in general put me off-balance.
I sighed, rocking from one foot to the other. I should leave. But there were things I wanted to hear him say, whether I could trust them or not. “If you wanted to talk to me so badly, why did you leave yesterday?”
“I had to be at my parents’ for the intervention. If I stayed, I wouldn’t have been able to leave. It was hard enough to leave as it was.” He tilted his head. “And I thought perhaps it was best to let you have your space.”
If he kept saying all the right things, I was screwed.
What am I thinking? I’m screwed anyway.
I leaned against the wall behind me. “But you’re here now.” When he’d promised he wouldn’t be. “How is that letting me have space?”
Do I really want space?
It was hard to answer that question. On the one hand, the walls of the dressing room felt like they were closing in around me. On the other hand, the distance between Hudson and me seemed wider than the Mississippi.
“I couldn’t stay away anymore.” As far away as he was, his words found their destination, piercing through the ice around my heart. “Why were you at the loft?”
I couldn’t stay away anymore. “Because I’m weaker than you give me credit for.”
He stared at the blank wall to the side of us as he scratched the back of his neck. “I was hoping it wasn’t weakness, but a sign that you still cared.” His eyes swung back to me, searching for my reaction.
I almost laughed. “Of course I still care, you asshole. I’m in love with you. You shattered my fucking heart.”
His eyes closed in a long blink. “Alayna, let me fix it.”
“You can’t.”
“Let me try.”
“How?” It was a rhetorical question because there was no answer for it. “Even if I can figure out how to forgive you, I can’t trust you again. I could never believe that you were with me for any reason other than to continue your sick game.”
He flinched only slightly. “I quit all that. You heard me.”
I shrugged. “Maybe it was all a set-up. Maybe you knew I was there the whole time.” He hadn’t known I was there—his expression of surprise when he saw me was genuine. But there were still pounds of bitterness inside me that I had yet to expunge.
“You don’t believe that.”
I made a disapproving sound in the back of my throat. “It’s hard to believe anything after being so totally lied to.”
“For the record,” he bent to catch my eyes with his, “I didn’t lie to you about us. Everything I ever said and did with you was honest.”
“The whole circumstance of our pretend to be my girlfriend sham was a lie.”
“Yes, but that’s all. Every touch, every kiss, every moment between you and me, precious…none of that was pretend. I didn’t want to pretend with you. I wanted every experience with you, every moment to be completely genuine. You’re the first person I have ever let in, the first person who’s ever seen the real me through all the bullshit.” His voice narrowed to a point. “You’re the first person I’ve ever loved, Alayna. And I know you’ll be the last.”
His words hurt. They were everything I’d ever wanted to hear from him and more. But what was the saying? Fool me twice, shame on me.
“I don’t know.” I pressed my fingertips to my forehead. “I don’t know, I don’t know. I don’t know how I can ever believe that you really feel the way you say you do.”
He took another step toward me. “I’m sure that’s true. But I thought of a way to prove that I’m devoted to you.” Another step, and we were now only a handful of feet apart. “Alayna, marry me.”
My gaze flipped up. “What?”
“Marry me. Right now. My plane’s already ready and waiting on the tarmac. All you have to do is say yes and we’re on our way to Vegas.”
“What?” I was in too much shock to say anything else.
“I know you deserve a long engagement and a proper wedding—and we can do that again, whenever you want—but I know right now you need reassurance.”
His hands were all over the place as he talked, totally out of character. Was he high? Nervous? Insane?
“You need confirmation that I am committed to you, Alayna, and there’s no better way I can think of showing you that than to marry you. To declare in a written contract that I’m yours and that I promise to love you forever.”
I settled on insane. “Hudson, you’re crazy.”
“And no prenup either.” He wiped his palms on his jeans. Was he sweating? I sure was. “I’m ready to give you everything I have, to make myself vulnerable, just like you made yourself to me time after
time.”
“No prenup? Now I definitely know you’re crazy.” And I was crazy for simply continuing the conversation.
“I am crazy. Crazy without you in my life.” He pushed his hands through his hair. “You’re the only one who’s ever made me better. And you have me by the balls now, Alayna, in so many ways. Because if you say no, if you turn me away, then I’ve lost everything that means anything in my pathetic excuse for a life. But if you say yes, I have to be the one to trust you—you could scam me if you wanted to. You could simply marry me now, divorce me later and half of all I have would be yours.”
As if his money meant anything to me. “I have no interest in your—”
He cut me off. “I know. I know that you would never take advantage of me like that. But the point is you could.” He paced the small room. “This is the only way I can think of to show you that I’m willing to be vulnerable to you. That I trust you.” He turned to face me again. “And that, even though I don’t deserve it, I’m determined to fight to earn back your trust. Even if it takes the rest of my life.”
I was in shock. So many thoughts and emotions swarmed over me that I had no idea what to feel or think. Out of the plethora of reactions brimming to escape, I picked one at random. “Some romantic proposal—marry me so that I can prove you can trust me.”
“No, Alayna,” his voice deepened. “Marry me because I love you. More than life itself.” He squared himself to me. “Marry me today, so I can prove I mean it.”
“Hudson, this is insane.” He didn’t even have a ring. “You destroyed everything we had together. You can’t just fix it by asking me to marry you out of the blue.”
“Why not?” He was desperate, both his tone and his body language gave him away. “Why not?” He shook his hands in front of him for emphasis. “We belong together. For all the wrongs we’ve done—I’ve done—you can’t deny that we make each other better.” He shifted his weight to one hip. “You admit you love me. And I love you. What’s keeping us apart? The fact that we hurt each other? Can you honestly say that you feel less hurt without me around? You came by the loft, Alayna. I know you’re still thinking about me.” He put his hands together, steepling his index fingers. “The only logical reason you can give for not being with me is that you don’t trust that I’m really in it for love. Marry me and you’ll have no doubt.”