But the sign on the building behind them—it was for the Stern Symposium. That had been the night of my presentation. The night Hudson saw me for the first time. The night he said he knew that I was special.
The night that began everything for me and Hudson, he’d been kissing Celia Werner.
Either he was still scheming when he met me or he’d been dating her. Either way, he’d lied.
Having an alcoholic parent, I’d chosen to never use liquor to settle my emotions. My addictions were of a totally different nature. But the emotions boiling inside of me needed something stronger. I went to the library bar and reached for a shot glass and a bottle of tequila.
“Here you are.”
When Hudson found me almost an hour later, I was outside on the balcony, looking out over the railing. I’d intended to be shit-faced by the time he got home, but had only managed four shots. For me that was enough to make me impaired.
But it hadn’t been enough to stop the throbbing ache in my chest.
I glanced at him over my shoulder. I’d prepared several speeches, but at the sight of him, they all left me. “I didn’t realize you were home.”
I turned back to the view. It was far less devastating than looking at the man who’d betrayed me.
“I am.” In my periphery, I saw him move up beside me. “You don’t come out here very often.”
I shrugged. “It scares me.” I was cold to him—my tone, my entire demeanor. There was no way he missed it.
Tentatively, he attempted to figure it out. “You’re afraid of heights?”
“Not really. It’s falling that scares me.” I gave a small laugh as I realized the relation of the fear to the feeling I was experiencing at the moment. “It’s actually thrilling to be out here. Being so high up, feeling so untouchable, the wind rushing at you from below. I can see why so many people are intrigued by the idea of flying. Problem is, no matter how good the flight, you always have to come back down eventually. And lots of times, that return is a free fall.”
“You’re waxing poetic tonight.” His frown was apparent in his voice.
“Am I?” I gathered up my strength and turned to look at him. “I suppose so.”
Hudson smiled and took a step in my direction, his arms reaching for me.
I stepped away, or more like stumbled away.
He grabbed my arm to catch me. My eyes latched on to where his hand grasped. It felt like my skin was burning under his touch, and not in the amazing way that it usually burned, but in a way that left me wondering if I’d be scarred for life. Hell, he’d touched me everywhere in our time together—would all of my body be scarred?
At least my outside would match my inside.
Hudson leaned in to help me steady. He smelled it then, how could he not? “Have you been drinking?”
I pulled my arm away. “Is that a problem?”
“Of course not. You just don’t usually drink. You’re full of all sorts of surprises this evening.”
“Ah. Surprises. It’s certainly a day for that.”
“Have there been others?”
“There have.” I brushed past him to get inside. I was done with the small talk. There were things to be said, and saying them outside wasn’t my preference.
He followed me in.
I waited until I heard the door shut behind me before I turned to face him. I’d planned to hit him straight up with the news that I’d seen his video. But those weren’t the words that came out. “Hudson, why don’t you ever tell me that you love me?”
“Where did that come from?” He looked like I’d slapped him. Considering that I wanted to, it was a pleasing outcome.
However, it wasn’t the response I wanted. Not in the least. And I had enough liquor in my system to keep me pursuing the answer I wanted. “It’s a valid question.”
“Is it? My methods of emotional expression haven’t seemed to bother you before—why now?”
“Hasn’t bothered me?” I was incredulous. Did he really not know how desperate I was to hear it? “It’s always bothered me. I’ve been patient, that’s all. Letting you settle into our relationship. I realize it’s all new for you—you’ve never let me forget it. But it’s new for me too. I’ve bared all my heart to you. And you can’t give me this one thing—three things, actually. Three little words.”
“You know how I feel about you.” He turned away from me and headed toward the dining room bar.
It was my turn to chase after him. “But why can’t you say it?”
“Why do I need to?” He poured himself a Scotch. “If you understand, there’s no point.”