Page 136 of Bridesmaid By Chance
“I know I’m chasing a dream that almost feels impossible, but with my dad hanging a lawsuit over our heads, trying to steal our business and take down his own sons, I feel this tremendous pressure to rise above and prove that you can create a successful business without destroying the people around you to do so.”
He lets out a deep sigh. “Joining the Mayfair Club gets me closer to expanding the business, but also, it’s… it’s something my dad never did, despite wanting to be part of it. He wanted the status. He didn’t care what the club values; he cared about the merit. And I know that because of that, he never received a member recommendation. So being there today, being able to do something my dad wasn’t able to do, fuck, it felt good, Sloane. I felt like I was accomplishing something, and when it all fell apart, I just felt like I could hear my dad in the background. I felt like I could hear him laughing at me, and I lost it. I lost it on you, and I never should have. None of it was your fault. I’m sorry.”
And there it is.
The apology.
A sincere apology.
One I feel like men in his position would never even think about offering to someone like me. And here he is willingly handing it over.
“I really am sorry.”
He shifts on the bed, and I can tell he turns away toward his side.
Dammit.
Why does he have to do this to me? Why does he need to make me feel empathy for him when that’s the last thing I want to feel? I don’t want to have any emotions toward him, but ugh, I can’t imagine the pressure he goes through daily, knowing he has a powerful father hovering over him, just waiting for him to make a mistake. The pressure must be so incredibly heavy to shoulder.
I might know a thing or two about that. Jude has been the father figure in my life, a strong one at that. I would be lost without him, but he also has a hard time accepting me for who I am, for the person I’ve grown to be.
And even though I shouldn’t feel this way toward Hudson, I don’t want him shouldering all of that. I don’t want him having to worry alone. I want him to be able to lean on me. To use me for an escape, to talk to me about these things instead of letting them live inside himself and eating him alive.
So I turn around and scoot toward him and tug on his shoulder, rolling him to his back. I slide my hand over his thick, well-defined pecs and lean on my elbow as I stare down at him. “I’m sorry, too.”
He shakes his head. “No, don’t apologize. This is not on you. It’s on me.”
“Hudson—”
“I’m serious, Sloane.” He cups my cheek. “You’re doing so fucking great. You really are. I know how hard you’re working. And I’m over here being a dick to you because I’m frustrated with myself. I don’t… Fuck…” He looks away and then quietly says, “I don’t want to be my dad.”
“You’re not,” I say, even though I don’t know his dad very well. I mean,Reginald Hopper knows how to put on a show. When we were all in Bora Bora together, he played the loving father role, but I know that’s not the real man that he is. I know from Jude that Reginald is a devious man, someone who, like Hudson said, would do anything to get his way, and we saw that clear as day when he manipulated the situation with Maggie and Brody. Hudson it not like that.
“I am,” he says quietly.
I tip his chin, so he has to look at me. When his eyes meet mine, I shake my head. “You’re not, Hudson. If anything, you’re protective, overly protective. If you were like your father, do you think you’d make sure that I was comfortable, that I was able to help my sister purchase the house that we so desperately wanted to keep in our family? No, you probably would have turned me away for good.” I run my finger over his forehead and down his cheek. “And if you were like him, instead of holding out and never kissing me, never fucking me, you would have taken what you wanted without any consideration of my feelings. That’s not you.”
“I could never take advantage of you or your body,” he says softly. “Never.”
“Exactly, Hudson. That’s because you’re not like your dad. You’re nothing like him, and you can’t think that way. You are so much better than him in all aspects. I know enough about him and I know enough about you to be confident that there’s no comparison. None.”
“How can you say those things?” he whispers. “After all the shit that I’ve put you through. How can you say that?”
“You haven’t put me through anything I haven’t agreed to,” I answer. “This was my idea to get married. I agreed to being Sheridan’s bridesmaid. What’s going on between us has nothing to do with what you’ve put me through and everything to do with me knowing exactly what I decided to do.” I lean in closer and whisper, “And I’ve agreed to this.” Then I press a kiss to the tip of his nose and pull away.
“Fuck,” he quietly whispers but then puts his arm around me. “Come here.”
He lowers me to his chest, where I rest my head, and he pulls me intight, his arm circling me. His hand finds my thigh and then pushes my shirt up, leaving my hip bare to his palm.
A warm sensation spreads through my body as I rest against him, realizing that I haven’t had this form of comfort, not ever really. Where human touch can lead to warmth. Where a clasped arm can lead to protection. This right here is new.
And I…I love it.
This isn’t sex.
This isn’t carnal attraction.
I thought I could have a physical relationship without it going deeper, but this is intimacy. This is so much more than I’ve ever had. And as much as I try to keep my walls up around this man, because he’s kept his up, this moment, with him holding me tight, this could very well break down those walls.
