It never ended with me still with the guy.
Maybe because I was so relieved or because I was in shock, or more likely because I suddenly felt overwhelmingly guilty about the whole conversation, I burst into a new set of tears.
“Now what?”
My crying continued, but this time I let him pull me into his arms. “I’m such a bitch,” I said into his shoulder.
“What?”
I lifted my mouth from the material of his jacket. “I’m a total bitch. I didn’t mean to pressure you into an invite, and I did. I won’t go, I’ll stay home.” He’d asked me out of duress. It felt shitty.
Hudson pulled me tighter against him, kissing the top of my head. “You’re not a bitch. And you didn’t pressure me into anything. You’re coming with me. It will be awful, but at least it will be awful together.”
Wiping the tears from my face, I raised my eyes to his. “Are you sure?”
“I’m completely sure it will be awful.”
I chuckled. “Are you sure I can come?”
He leaned his head against mine, placing a hand on my cheek. “I am. I want you there. I always wanted you there.” He trailed his hand down my neck. “But my mother is mean and terrible and she wants to hurt me. And she knows the easiest way to hurt me is to hurt you.” His hand at my waist gripped me tighter, his fingers digging through my dress into my skin. “I can’t bear to watch you go through that.”
It was my turn to assure him. I reached up, placing my hands on the sides of his face, forcing him to look at me. “Nothing she says or does means anything to me. Do you hear me? I already won. I have you.”
His eyes clouded—not simply with the lust that often darkened his gray hue when he looked at me—but with emotion that I could only name as love.
He pulled me even closer, as if he could pull me into him if he tried hard enough. “You do have me. Completely.”
I don’t know if I moved to him or he moved to me, just that our mouths were together, shifting in such a way that it was much more than kissing. It was a declaration—a statement of a union between the two of us that we couldn’t yet express in any way besides with our bodies.
When he pulled away, I was breathless and flushed.
His eyes lowered to my outfit. “You’ll need a dress. We should have time to stop by the boutique.” He reached across me and pushed the intercom. “Jordan, change of plans. Take us to Mirabelle’s.”
Chapter Ten
Mirabelle owned one of the hottest boutiques in New York City. Despite never needing to work a day in her life, the middle Pierce child had an eye for clothing design and she put it to good use. Her shop was by appointment only, and I’d nearly lost myself in fashionista heaven when Hudson had taken me to purchase racks of clothing almost two weeks before.
After directing Jordan to Greenwich Village where Mira’s was located, Hudson pulled out his phone and called his sister. I listened half-heartedly to their short conversation. “Thanks, we’re on our way,” he said before hanging up.
“She won’t be there,” he said to me as he pocketed his phone. “She’s getting ready for the party. But Stacy will take care of you.”
I groaned inwardly at the thought of dealing with Stacy, Mira’s too-thin blonde assistant. She had a thing for Hudson, had even gone out with him on at least one occasion. Needless to say, she wasn’t fond of me. The daggers she shot with her eyes were poisonous enough to kill an army.
Plus, she made me jealous. Mira insisted that Stacy wasn’t even a blip on Hudson’s radar. But one night, when I’d cyber-stalked him, I’d seen a picture of Hudson and Stacy together. They looked good. And I bet she didn’t have a history of crazy like I did.
If I could avoid seeing Stacy, I’d be a much happier person. “If Mira’s not going to be there, maybe we shouldn’t bother with the boutique. We could go back to my place and get something that we bought last time.”
“No, we need something new. I’ll want to show you off.”
I wasn’t sure if that made me happy or irritated. On the one hand, he liked the way I looked enough to feel like he could parade me. On the other hand, was that all I was? A show pony? Was this left over from our convince-everyone-we’re-together scheme?
It was likely none of the above, simply a complimentary statement from a man to his woman. My emotions were still too muddled from the last fifteen minutes—from the last twenty-four hours—and now everything had a twinge of heaviness. It didn’t seem like I could simply take anything at face value. There were layers to every gesture, every comment, every moment, and I was having a hard time getting my head around it all.
The nearly forty-five minute drive from Uptown to the Village didn’t help. I cuddled into Hudson and closed my eyes trying to nap, unsuccessfully. When Jordan finally pulled up in front of the boutique, it felt like a lifetime had passed.
Hudson didn’t wait for our driver to open the door. He climbed out and extended his hand. He continued to hold my hand as we walked to the shop, and I couldn’t help but remember the last time we’d been there, how he’d held my hand then. How it had been pretend then and this time was real. It was real, wasn’t it?
As if he could read my mind, Hudson squeezed my hand as we waited for Stacy to answer the bell. I turned to him and his lip curled into a half-smile.
It occurred to me that I’d seen him smile more in the last twenty-four hours than I had the entire three weeks I’d known him. Yeah, this was real.
Behind him, I saw construction workers at the shop next door, clearing up for the day.
“I wonder what’s going on over there.”
Hudson followed my glance. “Mirabelle’s expanding. I believe they’ve almost finished. We’ll come to the open house. She’ll want you there.”
“Wow. More clothes for me to choose from. Can your wallet handle it?” It was hilarious considering his bank account could clothe a small country. A large one, even.
We were both laughing when the door opened. Stacy barely glanced at us as she stood aside to let us in. “I have a client I’m finishing up with, but I already picked out some options for you. They’re in the big dressing room.”
So much for hellos.
She returned to her customer, and I glanced at Hudson to gauge his reaction to the lack of greeting. His face was stone. Whatever he thought about Stacy, he didn’t show it. Perhaps she really did mean absolutely nothing to him. But if that was the case, why had he ever gone out with her to begin with? Even if it was only the one date, wouldn’t he have had at least an ounce of attraction to her?