“He said lots of things. I decided you weren’t interested in hearing any of it.”
“Good thinking. I wasn’t.” I leaned back on my elbows. “But I am now. What did he say?”
“That he wanted to give you your space, but that he’s anxious to talk to you when—if—you want to. That he’ll do anything you want him to for the club, even if that includes doing nothing. That you’re welcome to come back to the penthouse—he’s staying at his other place.”
“The loft.” The offer of the penthouse was a waste of his breath. I had no desire to be anywhere I’d been with him. Except maybe the club. I still hadn’t decided about that yet.
“Yeah, the loft.” She lowered her eyes. “He also insisted that I tell you he loves you.”
“I don’t want to hear that.” Even knowing it was a lie, it still had impact. My stomach tightened and my eyes watered. And some stupid little spot in my chest flickered with a spark of…I don’t know…hope, maybe? It surprised me. Disgusted me. After everything, how could there be any part of me that still wanted his love to be true?
Liesl grinned. “That’s what I told him.” Her mouth straightened to a tight line. “He said it didn’t make it any less true.”
That night when I cried myself to sleep, it wasn’t the betrayal that kept the tears coming—it was the loneliness. My lips burned for Hudson’s mouth, my breasts ached for his touch, my entire body pulsed with isolation. And instead of wishing I’d never met the man, that I’d never heard his name, I wished I’d never found out the truth. Ignorance, it turned out, truly could be bliss.
“I told you it sucks,” Gwen said when I called in sick on Wednesday.
I didn’t follow. “What sucks?” I should have had Liesl call in for me again. This talking to people thing was harder than I’d comprehended.
Gwen delivered her response in sing-song voice. “Love, darling. L-o-v-e, love. Worst thing ever.”
Guess my claim of the flu wasn’t fooling her. “Yeah. It really does.”
Thursday I almost seemed like a real person again. A broken, distraught person, but that was better than the sobbing lump that I’d been the days before. Now I could feed myself and I even managed to drink something other than alcohol.
Liesl had seemed to think I was ready to be pushed further. “You need a distraction. A release. Like maybe you should pet the pussy. I could loan you my vibrator while I’m at work tonight.”
I cringed. “Um, no thanks.”
“Then we could drive to Atlantic City this weekend and check out David’s new place. You know he’d fuck your brains out if you asked.”
“First of all, David doesn’t fuck anyone’s brains out.” Though I’d never slept with him, I’d been with him enough in a sexual sense to know he was a total puppy dog.
“Secondly, I don’t ever want to have sex with anyone ever again.” Hudson had ruined sex for me—there would never be anyone better, no one more serving and demanding and fulfilling. It had been the place where things had been real for us—even now, with all the lies, I believed that. Anyone who tried to come in after would be a sorry comparison.
And there was a third thing—Saturday was the day of Mira’s Grand Reopening. I couldn’t go, of course. That would be ridiculous to even consider. But telling her was going to be hard. Since it was already Thursday, I probably couldn’t put it off any longer.
With a deep breath, I held my hand out to Liesl. “Speaking of the weekend—can I borrow your phone? I need to call Mira.”
She handed me her cell. I looked up Mirabelle’s Boutique and pressed the button to dial. This would be a true test of my strength. Mira had been so pro-Alayna-and-Hudson that she was likely as devastated as I was. Well, not quite that devastated, but nearly. And knowing her and her love-conquers-all attitude, she’d probably try to convince me we could work things out.
Maybe I didn’t want to call her after all.
“Mirabelle’s. This is Mira.” Too late to hang up now.
“Hey, Mira.”
“Laynie!” she exclaimed with her usual bubbly, happy tone. “I was going to call you and check in. Great minds. I have your dress altered and ready for you—do you want to pick it up before Saturday or change here that day? Or I could have it sent to you by courier.”
Dammit. Hudson hadn’t told her the news of our breakup. What the fuck?
I definitely didn’t want to be the one to tell her that. But now I kind of had to.
“I…Mira…” I was having trouble finding the words. I decided to start somewhere else. “I can’t do your event. I’m sorry. I called to cancel.” Then, after a swallow, “Hudson and I…we broke up.” Why did it hurt so much more to say it out loud?