Celia continued to plead for forgiveness.
Jack headed to the bar and began making a drink as he spoke to no one in particular. “Hudson stepped up because he knew her father would freak about the age difference, though Warren’s had some pretty young little mistresses himself. Granted, it’s different when it’s your daughter. Anyway, Hudson said he felt responsible for some reason or another. Never could figure that one out.”
He turned to face the room, glass in one hand, decanter in the other. “But I’ll tell you what, and I can’t prove any of this, but I’d bet my life that the whole thing was a set-up. She knew Hudson would claim that baby. That’s the only reason she came knocking on my door to begin with. To trap him.”
“That’s low, Jack,” Celia seethed.
“You’re one to talk.” I said it under my breath, not wanting to draw attention to myself.
She caught my words anyway. “Let’s not forget why we’re here. Not to discuss the past but to discuss Laynie’s future.”
“I think that topic is on hold for the moment.” Jack brought the glass of amber liquid to his wife.
Sophia took it from him, her hand shaking. “You and…Celia?”
“Don’t act so surprised. We haven’t been faithful to each other for years.”
Sophia took a long swallow of her drink. Then she stood and threw the rest of it in Jack’s face. “You coldhearted asshole. I’ve always been faithful.”
Jack wiped bourbon from his eyes. “One word for you sweetheart—Chandler.”
“Chandler is yours. I don’t know why he doesn’t look like you. I’ll get a blood test to prove it if you want me to. And despite the myriad of affairs you’ve had over the years, I would never have thought you’d stoop so low to sleep with your son’s girlfriend.”
“She was never my girlfriend!” Hudson said at the same time his father said, “She was never his girlfriend!”
The scene had moved from shocking to uncomfortable.
Brian sidled up next to me. “Wow. This family is fucked up.”
It was strangely comical, those words coming from my brother’s lips. Our own family with our alcoholic father and distant mother and me—the sister with a mental disorder—had always seemed the definition of fucked up. The Pierces, though, made us look like the Brady Bunch.
I gave Brian a wry smile. “Tell me about it.”
Totally fucked up. And why I was still there was beyond me.
So I left.
My hands shook the entire ride down the elevator. I didn’t know where I was going, only that I had to go. Hudson and I could work things out later when it was only the two of us. There was so much to sort through, but I knew in my heart of hearts that we were okay, that we were as connected as our eyes had been when we stood in the living room with chaos surrounding us.
I paused in the middle of the lobby, wondering if I should call Jordan for a ride. But where would I even go?
“Alayna!” Hudson called after me. He must have taken the other elevator down.
He’d noticed I was gone. It warmed some of the chill that had settled over me.
“Why did you leave?” he asked when he reached me.
“Isn’t it obvious? That was a madhouse and I didn’t want to be there anymore.”
“Yes, that it was.”
“I, um…” There was so much to say, but only one thing important to me—to us. “Why didn’t you defend me up there? Are you that mad about the David situation? It’s me supposed to be mad at you, remember?”
He met me with silence.
“Wait—” The truth burned into me with sickening certainty. “You believe her.”
His jaw twitched.
“Hudson?”
I’d thought—when our eyes had met, when we’d connected—I’d thought it had meant he was on my side. I’d been wrong. And it was like a knife to the gut.
Hudson put his hands on my arms, echoing the way his father had grasped me not fifteen minutes before. His touch felt…wrong. Cold where it was usually warm.
“I believe in you.” His voice was soft. “And whatever you need, I want to give it to you. If you need help—”
“Oh, my god, I can’t believe this.” I backed out of his grip. “I can’t fucking believe this.”
Hudson clenched and unclenched his fists. “Tell me that you didn’t do it. Tell me you didn’t call her. Tell me you didn’t see her.”
But I couldn’t say that. I had called her. I had seen her. Even when I promised I wouldn’t. It was only my motive that was debatable and I couldn’t prove it.