Home > Found in You (Fixed #2)(65)

Found in You (Fixed #2)(65)
Author: Laurelin Paige

Lauren’s brows rose. “You have more you aren’t telling him?”

“I know, I know. Don’t look at me like that.” I rolled my eyes, knowing how bad my situation looked. “You think we’re both fifty shades of f**ked up, don’t you?”

“Nah, not that bad. Maybe twenty-five shades.”

I laughed, and she joined me. Damn, that felt good—to laugh and relax. I needed to find a way to do it more often.

Lauren stood, and I knew it was time to part. I hugged her and thanked her and promised her I’d be at group the following Monday. Then I left.

After talking to Lauren, I no longer felt the need to see Celia. I tried to call her to cancel, but even after several attempts, she didn’t answer. That was fine. I’d use our coffee date to tell her that I was going to come clean to Hudson. I might as well give her a heads up.

I got to the coffee shop ten minutes early, but half an hour later, Celia hadn’t shown up. I called her several times, texted her, but got no response. I waited another thirty minutes then decided to pop my head in at Fit Nation. She’d said she was working there—maybe she’d gotten caught up.

Inside, I headed straight to the welcome desk. “Hi, I’m looking for Celia Werner. She’s supposed to be doing some design work here. Have you seen her?”

The man who greeted me was about my age and built like a weight lifter. “I know Celia.” His eyes brightened as if he had a bit of a crush. Hell, she was a knockout. Probably all men reacted that way to her. “She hasn’t been by at all today, though.”

“Are you sure?” She’d specifically told me she’d be working there that day.

“Positive.”

“Huh.” A chill ran through me. Considering how little I really knew Celia, I didn’t have any reason to jump to worrisome conclusions. Maybe she did this often—flaked out on her jobs and her appointments. Maybe something had come up. I didn’t know anything about her personal life. But something about the situation was unsettling. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

I left my number at the desk in case she stopped by later. Then I shook off thoughts of Celia and prepared myself for cleaning up my shit storm.

When Jordan picked me up, this time I was ready. “Take me to The Bowery.” It was almost three. I could send someone to take my key to Brian whenever he texted. I’d have plenty of time to pack my bags for Japan and gather my thoughts before Hudson came home. Then we’d talk, heart-to-heart, everything on the line. If he said the wrong things, I could still back out of the trip. But he needed to know that I was committed to our relationship too. He needed to know I was all in.

Except when I got there, the penthouse wasn’t empty like I’d expected. Heated conversation hit my ears the minute I stepped into the vestibule. My stomach twisted as I recognized who the voices belonged to—Hudson. And Celia.

Chapter Nineteen

I found them in the living room, standing so close to each other they would only have to lean in a little to kiss. I could only see Hudson’s face clearly from my angle, and he didn’t look about to make-out—he looked about to strangle.

A fireball mixed of jealousy, hurt and confusion sparked through my body. And betrayal. We’d vowed to not see Celia without one another. I’d betrayed him too in that department. Served me right to get a taste of what that felt like. It felt like shit.

“Why would Celia make it up?”

I’d been too wrapped up in the scene in front of me to realize Celia and Hudson weren’t alone. The voice that pulled my attention belonged to Sophia. Sitting next to her on the couch was Brian—shit! My And Jack was at the window, his back to the room.

What. The. Fuck.

“Because that’s what she does.” Jack turned from the window. “Ah, and many of these questions can now be settled because the subject at hand has arrived.”

All eyes in the room turned toward me.

I addressed my question to Hudson alone. “What’s going on?”

“Alayna—” His voice was as tense as his body, but a flicker of light passed through his eyes at seeing me.

Celia stepped in my sight line, her expression hard. “I’ve told them. They know.”

“Celia, stop it,” Jack said.

“Know what?” The hairs on my arms stood on end, the electricity in the air prickling all around us.

No one answered.

Jack looked around incredulously. “Are you going to tell her, Celia? It’s only fair for her to hear it from the horse’s mouth.”

Sophia’s jaw dropped. “Are you calling Celia a horse?”

“Dammit, Laynie. I knew this was going to happen. I knew it.” Brian stood and began pacing.

“Shut up, Brian.” I took a step into the room. “What is going on?”

Celia exchanged glances with Sophia. “You need help, Laynie.” Celia took Sophia’s outstretched hand for support. “I want you to know, I’m not mad at you and I don’t blame you for anything—”

“What the f**k are you talking about?” While I still did not understand the situation, there was one thing that was suddenly clear—this was an intervention. An intervention for me.

“Fine.” Jack crossed the room to me. “Since you aren’t going to explain, then I’ll do it. Laynie, you know I love seeing you. I’m sorry it’s under these ludicrous circumstances.” He put his hands on my upper arms and even across the room, I felt Hudson bristle.

“Celia showed up at our house this morning throwing a hissy fit with these outrageous claims about you. Then she called Hudson and your brother here,” Jack paused to glance toward Brian, “and arranged for this whole extravaganza. Good thing I was around so I could come along and try to pound some sense into these people who are listening to her.” At the end of his speech he turned to the others, his voice and body animated.

“What is she saying about me?” In my bones I knew the answer without hearing it, but I held my breath, hoping to hell that I was wrong.

“That you’ve been harassing her.”

My knees buckled and Jack helped me into the armchair. “Oh my god.” My mouth tasted sour as I swallowed down bile. “Oh my god.”

Celia held up her cell phone. “I have the proof. She’s called several times and hung up. It’s on my call log.”

Click. Now it made sense—the reason she’d told me to call repeatedly, why she’d played with my phone at A Voce. She’d wanted the phone record. She’d played me. My head throbbed with the realization.

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