Found in You(19)

“Awesome. Give me a call in the morning then.” She paused. “Oh, and if I don’t answer, keep calling. I have a nasty habit of leaving my phone in random places and if you call over and over then I will get to you. And I’ll find my phone! It’s a total win-win.”

I laughed at her method of phone control. “Perfect.”

“Great! Tomorrow then. Give Hudson my love.” She started toward the library door and then stopped and turned back to me, her hand clutched against her chest. “You know, it really is about time Hudson had someone in his life, and I’m so glad it’s someone who loves and understands him as it seems you do.” Her words and actions would seem overly dramatic for most people, yet she was just classy enough to get away with it.

“Thanks. I do. I get him.” Probably more than either he or I knew yet.

“I know you do.” Her face grew serious. “He’s told me things about you, too. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

She could only be referring to my crazy stalker past. Some of it was quite embarrassing. I’d violated a restraining order once. For that, I had a police record. It was buried now, by Hudson and my lawyer brother, but that didn’t change that it had happened. That I had done that. It was only one of a long list of many shitty things I’d done.

Normally I would have been humiliated to find that someone knew about my history. But right then, with all the good that was going on with Hudson, I didn’t. “No, it doesn’t bother me. Surprisingly.”

“Good.” She smiled. “I won’t tell anyone, of course. I’m glad that I know though. I can see how perfect you are for him because of what you’ve been through yourself. I’m on your side.”

“Thank you. I’m very grateful.”

She winked. “Okay, well, I’m off. Good luck!”

I stood in the library thinking over Celia’s visit long after she had gone and I had programmed her number into my phone. I was looking forward to having coffee with her, and, the truth was, that made me feel twitchy. As sure as I was that she could be a vital source of Hudson insider knowledge, I was also sure he’d be none too happy about it. And rightly so. If I wanted to learn about his past, I should go through him.

Still, could it really hurt to have coffee?

I decided to put my decision off until the morning.

Scanning the dozens of boxes once again, I decided to open some up and start unpacking them on the shelves. Hudson had said to make myself at home, and it would keep me from snooping. Even though I’d gotten permission, it wasn’t the healthiest behavior.

I found a letter opener in one of Hudson’s drawers and, kneeling beside one of the boxes, I used the opener to cut through the packaging tape. Molière was on top, along with a copy of Shakespeare. Underneath, I found several other classics from Dante to Dickens. I sat back on my heels and looked at the shelves, formulating a plan to organize the library.

My library.

Hudson hadn’t said it was mine, but I couldn’t help but think of it as such. I loved books—not only the stories they contained, but the feel of them in my hands, the silk of the pages, the words all collected in one place. Hudson didn’t have any interest in physical books. Obviously. His bare shelves were proof of that. He read everything on his e-reader. These were my books. I’d already adopted them and was sure Hudson wouldn’t protest. He’d only ordered them to fool his mother, even though I doubted Sophia visited his penthouse very often.

Also in the stack of lies told to Sophia, Hudson had declared I was moving in with him. How long before that became a reality?