Found in You(78)

Sophia’s eyes narrowed. “You brought it up.”

“I was stating that I could father a child and that would continue both your precious bloodline and your precious name.” His voice was oddly calm and strong all at once. I imagined it was the tone he took in the boardroom. It was powerful. Controlled. Sexy as hell.

Then he delivered his punch line. “And the only person I could ever imagine wanting to have a child with is Alayna.”

The impact wasn’t any less having heard him pronounce the possibility a moment before. It rang through the air as if every other sound had been muted, as if it were the lead violin in a string concerto. A lonely piercing sound that made people notice.

At once, all three Werners shifted in their seats, and even though Celia and Hudson were never a couple, were never meant to be together, the tension his statement created was as extreme as if the violinist’s bow had crossed against a too-taught string. It was so much. Too much.

“Hudson, I…” My voice trailed off. I had no idea what I planned to say. I just wanted the tension to end, to get rid of the general air of hatred I felt rushing at me from so many eyes.

He picked up on my cue. Placing a reassuring hand on my leg, he gave me an apologetic glance before turning back to Sophia. “The point is that you need to let the past go, Mother.” His tone was softer, but still held weight. “There is still a future to look forward to. For all of us.”

He turned back to me, our eyes locking, and then, instead of me telling him how it felt to hear him talk about a future with me, he told me. He told me with that long silent stare, his hand stroking up and down my thigh in a way that was more comforting than sexual. With that look, he said everything—how much he believed in us, how good we were. How much he loved me, even though he couldn’t yet say the words.

Then the tears that I’d managed to keep at bay earlier filled my eyes.

“If you’ll excuse me,” I said, breaking our stare. “I need to use the powder room.”

I made it to the bathroom and took a stall before the tears spilled. There weren’t many—a few, each of them happy and sweet and filled with promise. With love.

I heard the bathroom door swing open and shut a handful of times before I’d finished my brief cry. I peed and flushed, then, after washing my hands, made my way to the vanity to freshen up my face.

Fortunately, happy crying didn’t muss up my face as much as ugly crying. I continued to grin like an idiot as I leaned toward the mirror to dab at the small smudge of mascara under my left eye.

“You look perfect,” someone said behind me.

I glanced sideways, meeting Celia’s reflection in the mirror.

Immediately my smile disappeared.

“You just need a touch of gloss. I have some if you want to borrow.” She opened her tiny purse and pulled out a lipstick wand.

“No, I don’t want to borrow anything from you.” I pushed past her, headed for the exit.

But she grabbed me by the forearm. “Hey, wait!”

I pulled my arm away from her grasp but stopped my retreat. I might as well hear what she had to say, whatever grandiose excuse she had about keeping Sophia’s birthday dinner a secret from me.

Folding my arms in a dramatically bored stance, I nodded for her to speak.

Naturally poised Celia for once looked awkward, fidgeting from foot to foot.

“I’m not waiting all night. Speak.”

Her forehead creased in confusion. “Why are you angry with me? I could feel the tension all through dinner. You wouldn’t even look at me. Which is why I followed you in here. Why are you mad?”