Page 135 of Baby Girl
Finally, I allow myself to make eye contact with him. I’m glad I gave myself time to calm down because connecting with those icy blue eyes as he sits behind his desk sends a jolt of pain through my chest, kind of like when you miss a step.
Trying to keep my confident appearance, I gesture over my shoulder at the door. “Open or closed?”
“My preference would be closed, but whichever option makes you more comfortable.”
Again, I go with the compromise and close the door most of the way. Enough to give us visible privacy, but not enough that I feel like I’m closed in a room with him.
“You said you had my notebook,” I remind him, adjusting the shoulder strap of my bag before crossing my arms over my chest.
Hudson’s lips press together for a second. “I did.”
“Did you read it?” I question, not sure I want the answer, especially if the way my pulse is suddenly pounding heavily in my head is any indication of my feelings.
Flight mode is well and truly activated.
He nods, opens his mouth to say something, closes it, opens it again, but then closes it for a final time.
I have zero idea how to interpret that.
So, I try to find my inner brat again, since she really seemed to get shit done last time. Raising an eyebrow, I try to make my stare a little firmer. “And?”
He doesn’t break eye contact as he says the last thing I’m expecting to hear. “Saying thank you for allowing me to read it seems not enough, somehow.”
My arms fall to my sides and I swallow, looking away, emotions I don’t want to think about swelling in my chest.
“Kitten, what you gave me was the greatest gift I have ever received. It is nothing in comparison to anything that we have ever gifted you. This”—he taps a finger on the book on his desk, which I’m only now realizing is my notebook—“is a piece of you. It’s snippets and sections of you and your past. You gave me your story. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times my heart broke for you or how many times I laughed. I have felt like I ran a marathon in your shoes and enjoyed every single fucking second of it. So, as lacking as it may seem, thank you for sharing this with me. I will cherish it always.”
My eyes are burning, and I can’t think of a response. My heart feels like it is misfiring while my stomach is threatening to reintroduce me to my lunch.
He stares back at me, doing what I assume he thinks is his best at looking non-threatening. The thing is, though, this man holds so much power over me. He has from that very first night. Everything about the way he wants me draws me to him, even when it feels like my heart is shattered into a million pieces at his feet.
I have to swallow about a thousand times to get my suddenly swollen tongue to work. “I’m…I’m not sure what to say back to that.”
He smiles, a sad sort of smile, that makes his normally sharp eyes soften. “I know, that’s okay. You don’t need to say anything.”
“Ah, so, can I have it back?” I ask as I gesture in the general direction of the notebook, arm awkwardly flapping between us.
Hudson picks up my notebook, stands, and comes around the table, pausing a few feet from me. He clasps the book in both hands in front of himself, a slightly apprehensive look on his face. “I might have written in it, myself.”
Both my eyebrows shoot up so fast, there is no way I can hide my shock. “You wrote in my notebook?”
“I did,” he confirms sheepishly. “I…I don’t know. I guess I wanted to share about myself with you as well. You don’t have to read it. You can rip it out if you like. I just”—he lets out a sigh—“after reading about you, I wanted to write about me to share with you. It was stupid, I’m sorry.”
He holds out the notebook, eye contact nonexistent.
There is a tingling sensation all over my body, like all my blood is draining away. Or maybe like I’m floating outside of my body, as though my soul has left. At the very least, passing out is definitely an option right now.
What is even going on?
Where is the man who gave me an orgasm in a fitting room? Who tortured me in a restaurant? Who turned me into a fuck toy for his friends to play with? Who made me come in Derek’s math class?
I don’t understand what is happening right now. I want my confident Viper back. I don’t like this version of Hudson—unsure, sad.
Reaching out for the book, I tug it from his fingers. “Thank you.”
Hudson nods, still looking anywhere but at me as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “You’re welcome.”
I stand there, waiting for something more, anything at all, but nothing comes. With a sick, twisting sensation building strength in my stomach, I blindly reach for the door behind me and pull it open. “Um, I guess I’ll just get going now?”
