The Fixed Trilogy: Fixed on You(73)

“Dammit. I want to play,” Mira whined. “You know I’d be MVP.”

“Yes, baby, you would.” Adam bent down to rub her full belly protruding over the top of her bikini bottoms. “But you play rough, and that wouldn’t be good for little jellybean.”

“Yeah, you gotta protect my first grandchild,” Jack said proudly.

Sophia peered at her husband. “But she isn’t technically having the first grandchild, Jack.” She paused to ensure all ears were tuned to her. “Celia and Hudson’s baby claims that title.”

A whooshing sound filled my ears and I felt dizzy, as if on a tilt-o-whirl. Celia and Hudson’s baby. Why…what…?

My shock was magnified by Hudson’s reaction. He didn’t deny it. Instead, he tried to pull me closer. “Alayna,” he whispered.

“Sophia!” I heard Jack hiss. “How dare you compare that to Mira’s baby?”

Vaguely I was aware of Mira saying something, but I couldn’t make sense of anything except the cold disappointment that rattled in my bones. I had to get away, had to think, had to breathe. I pulled my hand from Hudson’s grasp and left, walking quickly down the beach, away from the Pierce family.

“Fuck you, Mother,” Hudson said behind me before I was out of earshot.

A baby. Hudson had a baby. With Celia. I couldn’t even grapple with trying to figure out where the baby was or what happened to it, too pained by the conception of a baby in the first place. It was ridiculous. He wasn’t mine, he never was. But a baby…merely another way he belonged to Celia. Belonged with Celia.

I kept walking when Hudson called after me. But I didn’t run from him when he jogged to catch up.

“I’m fine,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’m playing the part of a wounded girlfriend.”

He matched my stride, but didn’t try to touch me. “Then why are you crying?”

I’d hoped we didn’t have to acknowledge the tears spilling down my cheeks. I swiped at them with my palm, still holding my smile in place. “I’m just surprised.” My voice was tight despite the cheer I tried to inject in it. “I didn’t know you had slept with her.”

“I didn’t.”

“You obviously did.”

“No, my mother thinks I got Celia pregnant. I did not.”

His words stopped me, a bubble of hope forming inside. “And why is that?”

He ran his hand over his face before he answered. “Because when Celia got pregnant I told our parents I was the father.”

I folded my arms over my chest waiting for more, but he gave nothing. “Are you going to explain?”

“No.” He mirrored my stance. “It’s not relevant.”

I spun on my heels, walking faster this time. How did he expect me to be in this f*cking fake relationship when I didn’t have all the information? Maybe I was only a pawn in his mind games. It was the only thing that made sense.

“Alayna, stop.”

He followed after, reaching for me. This time I pulled away.

“Stop!” He caught up to me and grabbed me firmly at the shoulders. He turned me to him. “I said, ‘stop!’”

”Why can’t you tell me?” My tears had turned to sobs.

“Why can’t you trust me?”

I let out a single laugh, maddened by the insanity of his request. “That’s funny—you asking me to trust you when you trust me with absolutely nothing.” I mean, what did I know about him? Besides his expertise in bed and a few random tidbits that I’d learned in one long car ride, he’d shared nothing.

His voice tightened. “You know more about me than most people.”

It felt like an accusation. That I knew that thing—the one thing he didn’t want anyone to know. But he hadn’t even been the one to tell me that. And it was only one detail of the complex makeup of Hudson Pierce.

“No,” I said, sticking my chin out defiantly. “I know one thing about you that most people don’t. It’s different.”

“It’s the only thing that matters.”

“Bullshit.” If he truly believed that…how could he be so blind to think that all that mattered about him were the mistakes of his past? It broke my heart and my voice cracked as I spoke. “There’s so much more to you than that.”

I wanted to touch him, to caress his face, to make him see. I stretched my hand tentatively toward him, but he stepped back.

“Obviously you do know me,” he spit out, “if you feel comfortable making that kind of statement.” His tone was nasty, sarcastic. He didn’t believe it. He was spinning my words, my meaning.

I turned away from him, processing. I did know things about him—things I’d discovered from spending time with him. I did believe there was more to him than the guy who manipulated women for sport. I saw it in him, felt it when he kissed me, and when he lay between my legs.

And if I really believed his sincerity in those moments, then I had to say I trusted him.

Which meant he was telling the truth now—he hadn’t fathered a baby with Celia. But then why would he tell his parents that he had?

The realization punched my stomach like a ton of bricks. “It’s because you love her, isn’t it?” Voicing it made the weight even heavier. “That’s why you told your parents it was your baby.”