The Fixed Trilogy: Fixed on You(38)

Hudson grinned at my stunned expression as he guided me past the ushers—the ushers who didn’t even ask him for a ticket like the couple next to us who, I’m pretty sure, were the mayor and his wife. Um, yeah, Hudson was a lot cooler than I had comprehended.

We passed the bar and walked into the main doors of the ballroom. “If you’d like a drink, you can get something inside. My mother will be anxious to meet you.” We stopped near the doorway, Hudson scanning the room.

I took in our surroundings. The place was extravagant—an old century opera house that had been infused with modern technology. The central focus was the runway, which extended from a low stage. A complex lighting system that seemed more appropriate for a rock concert than a fashion show hung above. Chairs lined the runway on both sides, and, beyond that, white clothed tables circled the room. Three levels of ornate balconies climbed the walls to the seventy-plus foot ceilings.

“Hudson! Laynie!” I turned to the sound of the familiar voice and saw Mira moving toward us as quickly as her round belly would allow. “Wow, you look incredible!” she said to me. “This dress looks so great paired with those shoes. And Huds matches you! How sweet!”

Hudson’s arm tightened at my waist, the only indication he gave that his sister annoyed him. “You aren’t the only one in the family who has fashion sense, Mirabelle.”

“Of course not. Chandler’s also very savvy. You, though, are generally too stiff to be considered anything at all creative.”

“Ouch.” But he grinned. Hudson was nothing if not proud of who he was.

Mira smiled, too. Then, her face tensed abruptly. “Excuse me, I know this is totally rude, but…” She pulled her brother’s ear down to her mouth to whisper something I couldn’t hear.

Hudson’s jaw stiffened. He straightened, pulling away from Mira. “She knows about Alayna.”

Mira nodded her head toward me. “Does she know about…?” She trailed off.

“She does.” His words relaxed Mira, if only slightly.

I wanted to remain unaffected, but I knew my puzzlement read all over my face. They were talking about me and someone else, and I apparently knew about something or someone, which, of course, I doubted because Hudson never told me anything about anyone. My curiosity won out. “What?”

Mira looked to Hudson as if asking permission to fill me in. He remained expressionless. She took that as a go ahead. “Celia’s here.” Her mouth twitched. “I didn’t know if that would be a problem.”

Celia Werner. He’d said I knew about her, but I really didn’t. I knew his family wanted them to marry. I knew her family owned majority stocks in television and media. I knew she was pretty. Very pretty. And she adored the man who currently rubbed his thumb back and forth across the back of my hand. The man who did not currently adore her. Or me, for that matter.

If my hand had been free, I would have snapped the elastic band. That had not been a healthy thought.

I swallowed then put on a cheerful smile. “No, Celia’s no problem. Right, H?”

He grimaced at the nickname. “None at all.”

“Where is she?” If the bitch was on the premises, I figured I’d better face her head on.

“There.” Mira pointed discreetly.

I followed her gesture. There she was, the woman from the pictures, wearing a red, one-shoulder crinkle dress that accentuated her model thin figure.

“You look better than her,” Mira said. I didn’t, but I appreciated the comment. I didn’t look better than her at all.

Snap. Another unhealthy thought.

“Mirabelle, must you be so catty?” Hudson squeezed my hand. “Anyway, Alayna looks better than most people.”

I kissed him. Not only because it seemed a good time for a girlfriend to reward her boyfriend for a compliment, but because I wanted to. I wanted to remind myself that no matter what Hudson and I did or didn’t have together, I was the one kissing him—I was the one convincing people that he shouldn’t be with her.

He kissed me back in that reserved way of his that I had learned was for the public, his tongue sliding barely inside my lips.

“Oh, hell, no. Huds making out is not something I want to see,” an unfamiliar voice interrupted our embrace. Hudson stepped aside revealing a blonde haired, blue eyed teenage boy wearing a suit jacket over a t-shirt and jeans. “But, wow.” The boy scanned me up and down with a lusty stare. “Anytime you feel like moving up the social ladder, you can lay those lips on me.”

“Chandler,” Mira scolded. “Be polite.”


Chandler. The youngest Pierce sibling. I’d read some gossip blogs that speculated the reason for the large gap between Mira and Chandler was because the three children didn’t share the same father. Indeed, staring at Chandler now, I saw very little resemblance to his older siblings.

“Alayna’s nine years your senior,” Hudson said, a stern look on his face.

“I’ll be eighteen next month.” Chandler’s eyes remained pinned on me.

I’d never told Hudson I was twenty-six. I shouldn’t have been shocked that he knew—the man who had uncovered my restraining order had obviously done his research on me, too. Well, we were on equal ground now. As if there was equal ground with Hudson.

Hudson facilitated a half-hearted introduction. “Alayna, this is our brother, Chandler.” Hudson smacked his brother on the shoulder in a gesture that almost appeared playful. “Chandler, stop undressing Alayna with your eyes. That’s inappropriate.”