Page 188 of Bridesmaid By Chance
It’s bad enough that he’s left me in a foreign country alone, but to do it without saying goodbye or leaving an explanation? What was I going todo, just wake up and be like…Where’s Hudson?And then find out from the doorman, or the driver—no offense to Harold—that Hudson took off for America?
Jesus!
I bite down on the corner of my lip, trying to steady the emotions pulsing through me. I should have known this is what was going to happen. I should have been mentally prepared, but instead, I got caught up in the fanfare of “my wife” and the touching…and fucking.
God, I’m an idiot.
HUDSON
“Did you just get off the plane?” Hardy says when he walks into my office, looking surprised.
“Yeah,” I answer as I wake up my computer.
“Why the hell are you here?”
“Why else would I be here?” I ask as I click on my email and watch my inbox fill with correspondence. Even though I was working on the plane, it looks like I’ve barely touched anything. That’s the vicious cycle of emails though—the minute you answer one, two more come in.
“Don’t you think you should get some rest first?”
“No,” I answer, staring straight at my screen and skimming through an email from our lawyers.
“Dude, can I have your attention for two seconds?”
I sit back in my chair, fold my arms over my chest, and say, “What?”
“Don’t you think we should talk about all of this? You look a little psychotic and the last thing we need is for you to make a mistake that you’re going to regret later on. Not to mention, did you really leave?—”
Knock, knock.
My eyes fly to the doorway of my office where Jude walks in. “Am I interrupting?”
From the sound of his voice, I can feel my balls crawl all the way up my throat.
“No,” I say, my voice coming out squeaky. I clear it and repeat, “No. Come in.”
He glances back at Sloane’s desk and thumbs toward it. “I was hoping to catch my sister. I haven’t heard from her in a bit and thought I’d treat her to dinner. Did she head home early?”
Jesus fuck, he has no idea she’s in London right now. What the hell do I say?
Sweat immediately heats up my lower back as my mouth feels like glue, sticking together as I attempt to come up with something to say. Anything.
“Uhh…”
Nothing.
Not one goddamn thing comes to mind.
Because if I say that she’s at home, he’ll go there. Then he’ll know I lied to him when he finds out that in fact she is not home.
Panic ensues.
More sweat forms.
And as he looks between us, I can watch his jovial expression slowly turn sour.
“Where is she?” he asks, looking none too pleased now.
Fuck.
