Page 67 of Bridesmaid By Chance
“I can tell you’re mad.”
“How? You haven’t given me the time of day to get to know me.”
I work my jaw back and forth, not appreciating the slight jab. “The tone in your voice, your body language, your response to what I said—that’s how I can tell you’re mad,” I say, naming a few.
“Well, you know, Hudson, maybe I am mad.” She sets her fork down. “I’m irritated with the situation. You’re giving mixed signals. One moment you’re keeping me at arm’s length, the next you’re pressing your hand to my upper thigh while we drive around. What the hell am I supposed to do with that? You want to be married, but you don’t want to be married. It’s confusing.”
Because it is fucking confusing. I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place here. I can’t give in and take what I want from her at the risk of hurting her, because Jude would kill me. But I also can’t just use her; I need to treat her with care, with affection and respect. It’s a fine line I’m trying to walk, and apparently, I’m doing a real shit job.
“I’m not trying to give you mixed signals, Sloane. I’m trying to be honest,” I say, imploring her to understand. “As I said, this isn’t a simple case of whether or not I’m attracted to you. This is about my business. The people who count on me?—”
“You say that, but I don’t really believe that’s what’s going on here. I think you’re afraid that I’ll get attached. That if we ‘complicate’ this situation with sex or with getting to know each other, you’re afraid you’re going to break the young girl’s heart. Trust me, I can handle my feelings. I don’t need anyone looking out for me.”
“I know you can look out for yourself,” I say.
Annoyed, she pushes away from the table and picks up her plate. “Ifyou truly thought that, then you would have no problem spreading me across this table and having me for dinner or sitting on that couch and telling me all about your childhood,” she says. “Because you’d know that I could handle whatever I got myself into. Instead, you’re protecting me?—”
“I’m protecting me,” I say, pointing to my chest. “I’m protecting myself from…from being the one that gets attached. You’re different, Sloane. I’m aware how different you are, and if I allow myself to explore just how different, then I know I’m going to be crossing a line I shouldn’t be crossing. I’m protecting the people around me by keeping my distance.”
“You’re not keeping your distance by sleeping in the same bed, holding my hand, running your thumb over my wrist.”
“Because you deserve affection,” I say before I can stop myself. “Because you deserve the kind of care that comes with being a wife. This has nothing to do with attachment on your end.”
She shakes her head. “No, because if you truly believed that, then you wouldn’t think twice about everyone else because you’d know that whatever we did wouldn’t cause me to fall apart in the end. But the trust isn’t there, which is fine, because why would it be? You don’t know me. As your assistant, you haven’t taken the chance to get to know me, and now that I’m your wife, the pattern continues. I thought we could have some fun, get to know one another on a deeper level, but I get it. I understand the assignment.”
Plate in hand, she heads toward the balcony when I stand and stop her, my hand to her stomach. “Sloane, I trust you.”
Her eyes connect with mine, and she smiles sadly. “You don’t.”
And then she moves out from under my touch and toward the balcony, where she eats dinner alone.
Chapter Eleven
SLOANE
“No sex for me,” I say as Stacey takes a seat on Hudson’s bed.
“Uh, should I be upset about that?” Stacey asks as she smooths her hand over the fluffy comforter. “Jesus, this is rich.”
“You should be upset about it,” I say as I fold my laundry on the floor in front of her, preparing for the trip to London. We leave tomorrow, and after living like zombies who don’t speak to each other for the last two days, I’m looking forward to getting the hell out of here.
“Why would I be upset about it? Isn’t it good not complicating things between you and Hudson?”
I fold one of my lace bras and look up at my sister. “We’re married. Pretty sure it doesn’t get more complicated than that.”
“The marriage is a piece of paper. It really doesn’t mean that much. A true marriage is built on love and the life you form together. You guys haven’t built anything together other than a fantastic lie.”
“I understand that, but I’m just…I’m frustrated.”
“Why?” Stacey asks. “I thought the whole point of getting married was to buy the house.” She picks up her phone and says, “Which we need to leave now if we’re going to get to our meeting about said house on time.” She flashes me her phone, showing me the time, and she’s right. We don’t want to be late.
I stand from the floor, leaving the laundry where it is. I grab a pair of jean shorts from the pile, slip off my sweats, and pull those on beforetucking in my shirt. I finish the look with a hat and then slip on my Birkenstocks.
“Ready,” I say and move out of the bedroom, Stacey following me.
We head down the stairs and I’m about to respond to her when I see Hudson walk through the garage door, surprising me. It’s early. He’s not supposed to be home yet.
“Uh, hi,” I say. “What are you doing here?”
