The Fixed Trilogy: Forever With You(36)

I walked back to her desk, wondering if she meant to scold me for keeping Hudson occupied.

“This was delivered for you while you were with Mr. Pierce.” Trish handed me a simple white envelope with my name written in block letters on the outside.

It didn’t occur to me that I should have given the envelope to my bodyguard until after I’d opened it and found the same business card that had been stuck in my books at home. Celia Werner, Interior Design.

The knot in my belly tightened. She’d been on foot when I’d left her at the restaurant. How could she possibly have followed me so quickly? Did she simply guess that I’d come here? Why hadn’t Reynold seen her coming up in the lobby?

“Who gave you this?” I asked Trish, aware that my voice was more demanding than would be deemed polite.

“I don’t know. A courier. I didn’t pay attention.”

“Was she blonde, blue-eyes—”

Trish cut me off. “It was a he.”


That explained why Reynold hadn’t seen Celia—she’d had someone else deliver it. As for knowing I was at Hudson’s office, well, wasn’t that predictable of me too?

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. All she’d left was a silly business card. It didn’t hurt me. It was meant to scare me, that’s all. Meant to warn me that she was watching. That she knew how to get to me.

Resolving to not let her get to me, I opened my eyes. I quickly scrawled a note to Hudson on the white envelope and put the card back inside. “Thank you, Trish. When Hudson is free, can you give this to him?”

I really wanted to burst through his doors and show him personally. Then convince him that both of us should leave it all behind and go to his spa.

But that would be running away. And running away never solves anything. Or so, that’s what everyone always says.





Chapter Nine


After I left Hudson’s office, I decided to try to forget my tension by wrapping myself in work. I was successful for most of the afternoon, but the anxiousness and stress of the day lingered just under the surface. I had to be at the club to meet Gwen by eight and imagined it would be a late night. I longed for a run, but decided instead on a group therapy session. Thursdays weren’t the day I usually went, but there was a session at six led by my favorite counselor. I could grab a bite to eat, hit the group, and be back in time to work that evening.

I shifted in my rusty folding chair in the Unity Church basement as I focused on listening to the others share. Most of the Thursday night regulars were strangers to me, and it seemed most of their addictions were hard to relate to mine. One person was a shopping addict. Another was addicted to social media. There was a gamer there too, a guy who was just as consumed with buying the latest system and game as he was with playing them. The only person that I felt even slightly connected to was the tattooed sex addict that I’d seen on other nights as well. I’d heard her speak before and recognized a lot of her same fears and frustrations as my own.

“Would you like to share anything, Laynie?”

I was more than a little surprised when the group leader called my name. Members weren’t required to speak at each meeting—or ever, if they didn’t feel comfortable—so it was odd for Lauren to call on me specifically. She knew me, though, having counseled me since the early days of my recovery. And if she couldn’t tell from my demeanor that I had something on my mind, the fact that I’d shown up twice in one week had to be an indicator.

I gave the customary history of my illness and then paused. Since I hadn’t planned on speaking, I wasn’t quite sure what I wanted to say. After a breath, I said, “I’ve had some extra stressors in my life recently, and I’m here because I feel like it’s causing me to backslide.”

Lauren nodded, her long braids clicking with the movement. “Very concise identification of emotion, Laynie. Let’s first talk about what kind of stressors you’re dealing with. Is there anything you can eliminate?”

“Not really.” I guess half of my stressors would be removed if I broke up with Hudson, but that wasn’t an option I was willing to consider.

“And that’s perfectly fine. Sometimes you can’t eliminate stressors.” Lauren turned her words to the whole group, using it as a teaching moment. “Most times you have to deal with them. Or we choose to deal with them because the reward is greater than the impact of the stress.”

Boy, had she nailed it. “Yes. That’s it.”

“So what are these stressors?”

“Um.” Now that I thought about it, I realized I’d had a lot in the last few weeks. “I recently moved in with my boyfriend.” I didn’t add that the relationship was still fairly new. At least not out loud. Internally, I marked it as another factor in my anxiety level.

“You have a new living situation.” It was customary for the leader to acknowledge the information shared. “That’s an adjustment.”

“Yes. And I just took a huge promotion at my job.”

The room buzzed as people shared congratulations. “Kudos to you,” Lauren said. “But yes, another stressor.”

“And my boyfriend...” How to bring up my current situation when I wasn’t quite sure why I was in it in the first place was tricky. “He has baggage that I’m having some trouble dealing with.”