The Fixed Trilogy: Fixed on You(45)

His expression faltered briefly, his eyes cast downward. When they rose again I saw them pass my exposed cleavage. His brow rose. “What are you...? Is that...?”

I looked down to see what he saw. The corset. Damn, I’d forgotten. A familiar tug of desire formed low in my belly, followed by a more painful ache in my chest. “Yes. I’d worn it for you.”

He sighed. “Wow. That was…that was very thoughtful of you.”

We still wanted each other, and it would be so easy to let that want rule us.

But I was stronger than that. I could be stronger than that. “I’m sorry.”

“I know. I am, too.” His eyes lingered on mine for a moment, before he shifted gears entirely. “This may be poor timing, but I need to get back to my mother’s show.”

“Sure.”

“And since you’re supposed to be sick, you will need to go home.”

I listened as he ordered Jordan to drive toward my apartment.

“When is our next show, boss?” I asked, half praying the answer was soon, knowing that the more time before I saw him again, the better.

“I’m not sure. I have to fly to Cincinnati tonight.” He pursed his lips. “And I am not your boss.”

“Cincinnati? Tonight?”

“Yes, tonight. I have a meeting first thing in the morning. My jet’s leaving early evening.” A private jet. Of course. “I’ll text you later to arrange the Hamptons. We’ll leave Friday afternoon.”

“So you’ll be gone all week?” I don’t know why I asked. It shouldn’t have mattered.

“I’m not sure yet.”

“Oh.” He already felt distant, like he’d already gone. I turned my head to hide the tears that were filling my eyes.

The car pulled over to the side of the road. I looked out the tinted window and saw we were in front of my apartment. Jordan got out of the car, and shortly after, my door opened.

I didn’t want to get out. It felt awkward and awful—my second sort-of-not-at-all break-up in a week. Why did this one hurt so dang much?

Without looking back at Hudson, I stepped out of the car.

“Alayna.” He called me just as I stood fully. I pasted on a fake smile and ducked my head back in. “Thank you for today. I think you’ve truly made an impression on my mother. Good work.”

I stayed at the curb until Jordan had shut the door and gotten back into the car. A shiver ran through me, despite the hot summer day. Wrapping my arms around myself, I headed up to the small studio apartment that felt big for all the loneliness it held.

At my door I found a bag of gourmet coffee and I dissolved into tears, completely melted by his gesture. My elastic band lie. Hudson never missed a beat. I wracked my brain trying to figure out when he had arranged to have it delivered, and realized it had to be before the limo conversation. It was a sweet gesture. I wondered if he wished he hadn’t done it now.

Whether he regretted it or not, it gave me an excuse to reach out to him once more. I pulled out my phone and typed a carefully thought out text. “Thanks for the coffee. And for everything else.”

It was a goodbye to the great whatever it was we’d had, fleeting as it was. I needed the closure. Maybe he did, too.

I pushed send and had a moment of panic, wondering if I’d done the right thing by ending our relationship, wondering if I could undo it, praying that his response would show me he was having the same doubts as I was.

But Hudson didn’t respond at all.





Chapter Thirteen


I stalked Hudson online again that night.

Not because I felt I needed to learn more about him, but because the distance between us felt so overwhelmingly vast. It was a familiar feeling, one I’d felt with guys I’d dated only to discover later, in therapy, that I’d been overreacting. But this was different. We were apart for real, not only in my psycho head. And I couldn’t bear it. I had to get closer to him in whatever way I could, even if it was only via the Internet.

There were already new blog posts and news feeds from the fashion show. The event had great reviews, and more money had been raised than projected. I flicked through the pictures of models, a little wistful that I had missed that part of the day. And there were pictures of me with Hudson, kissing outside the limo when we were on our way in. I stared at those the longest, saving one particularly close shot as my wallpaper desktop.

Most of my stalking, however, was on Pierce Industries and its business ties in Cincinnati. I searched way longer than I should have, trying to deduce if Hudson really was going there, and finding nothing helpful. Did he really have business or did he just want distance?

It shouldn’t have mattered. Our next assignment wasn’t until Friday. But the need to know ate at me, consuming my mind until I’d spent hours exhausting every avenue of research I could think of.

At least I stopped myself at online stalking and checking my phone over and over for a response from him. I didn’t call the airport to see if a Pierce Industries jet had taken off—that wouldn’t have been healthy behavior.

Besides, I had no idea what airport.

***

I awoke the next afternoon with a knot in my chest. My muscles felt jittery even before I’d had any coffee. They were my usual anxiety symptoms, but I couldn’t say for sure what had caused the attack. Worry about my meeting with David? Or stress about Hudson?