“What did you do?” Her voice is low and tense, and I momentarily regret saying anything. Not because I’m not willing to share but because I’m worried about stressing her out.
But it’s out now. I don’t have to say everything, but I have to say something. “I lied to her.”
“And she found out?” She doesn’t ask the details of my deceit, which I appreciate.
“Yes. She found out. But there’s more I haven’t told her, more I need to say.” I’m surprised that I’m spilling my soul so easily. And it feels good. All the build-up, I think I’ve been desperate to talk to someone. Since I’d never initiate a conversation, I’m suddenly grateful that Mirabelle did.
“Okay.” She takes a breath that’s deep enough I can hear it through the line. “So you need to tell her, but you haven’t?”
“No.”
“Because you’re afraid of…what?”
“Losing her.” Just saying the words makes my throat tight.
“But you won’t know that unless you tell her. Will you?”
Isn’t that the question of the decade. The question of my lifetime, actually. It’s been four days since I declared we needed time. Four nights that I haven’t buried myself inside her, haven’t felt her clench around me, haven’t fallen asleep to the sound of her rhythmic breathing. Four days and nights—it feels like forever. And still I don’t know what I should do.
I realize that time is not going to give me any answers. It won’t be away from Alayna that I’ll find the strength to make this choice.
I’m quiet too long. Mirabelle says, “Your silence leads me to believe you aren’t going to.” Her disappointment is heavy in her tone.
“Not true. My silence is only a product of not having a response.”
“Well, then.” She pauses, and I can sense her wanting to say more. Finally, she says, “Do you want my advice?”
“If I say no, will you refrain from giving it anyway?”
“Probably not.” She considers. “Definitely not.”
“Then by all means, go ahead.” I shoot a glance toward my liquor cabinet, wondering if it’s too early to spike my coffee.
“I’m not going to ask what you’re keeping from her.” She’s pacing; I’m sure of it. She likes to walk as she lectures. “If it’s something you don’t want to tell her, I’m sure it’s not something you want to tell me. But, I know that you could tell me anything, and I would still love you. And not just because I’m your sister. And though it’s hard to admit this, I kinda get the sense that Laynie loves you even more than I do. She chose you. Out of everyone out there who she could love or who could love her, she chose you, Hudson. I have to believe she sees that thing about you too. That thing you think doesn’t exist. That thing that makes all your bull worth it. And if she sees that, if she loves that as much as I think she does? Then I don’t think there’s anything you can say that will make you lose her. Even if it’s the ugliest secret of all time.”
“Even if it’s the worst betrayal you can imagine?” Her sentiment is pretty. But it’s naïve.
She pauses, and I know she’s preparing for more of her happy-ever-after spiel. For once, Mirabelle surprises me. “Did I ever tell you that I cheated on Adam?”
“Uh, no.” I’m hoping she doesn’t tell me now.
“A long time ago. Before we were even engaged. I slept with another guy.”
I’m shocked. Mirabelle has always been the picture of loyalty and commitment. “I don’t know if I want to hear this.”
She plows ahead anyway. “I was stupid. But it was really shitty. I mean, he knew the guy. They were roommates in their undergrad program. And we were serious at the time—Adam and I. I just…I don’t know. It was stupid. I did something stupid. And for stupid reasons too. I wanted to get Adam’s attention. Can you believe that? Well, it sure got his attention. Also, almost lost me the love of my life.”
“Mirabelle…” I’m not sure what to say.
“No, no, it’s fine now. The point is that fidelity is important in any relationship, but even more so for Adam because his previous girlfriend cheated, and, well, that’s a whole other story. Anyway.” She huffs into the receiver. “Cheating is the ultimate betrayal for him. And we worked things out. It wasn’t easy, but here we are. So, yeah, I believe forgiveness happens. Even in the Pierce family.”
I’m still stunned. I’m also not convinced my situation with Alayna is anything like Mirabelle’s. For one thing, anyone who doesn’t recognize my sister is the catch of a lifetime is crazy, no matter what her sins. But I’m moved by her confession. “Thank you for telling me that. It does give some perspective.”
“Hudson, don’t just smile and nod and then dismiss everything I’m saying.” God, she knows me too well. “Because here’s the other thing. Lies like those? They grow. They grow between you like big black holes. Pretty soon you can’t see each other through the darkness. And that part of you that Laynie loves? She won’t be able to find it anymore through the cloud. In other words, you can tell her the truth and give her the chance to prove she loves you anyway. Or you can let the lie grow until she leaves you because she doesn’t know who you are anymore. It may be just me, but I think you have a better shot with the truth.”
Twenty minutes after I’ve hung up with Mirabelle, her words are still rooted in my head, clinging to my conscience like mold on spoiled fruit. I can’t concentrate on anything else. I’ve read the same email from Stuart Reed three times now and still haven’t gotten anything from it. When I notice he’s copied Norma, I give up on it. If it’s important, she’ll fill me in on our flight.
Thinking of my flight…I should tell Alayna that I’m leaving town. I pick up my cell phone and begin a text. Then I delete it. I can’t even seem to say something as simple as By the way, I’ll be in L.A. through the weekend. She’ll want to know more—she deserves to know more—and once again, I can’t give it.
Instead, I text Jordan. Checking in, how’s Alayna today?
He responds quickly. What do you mean? Isn’t she with you?
I’m alarmed enough by this response to call him directly. “Why would she be with me?”
Jordan sounds genuinely confused. “I dropped her off about twenty minutes ago. She said she was going to surprise you.”
It would have been a nice surprise. “Well, she’s not here.”
“She’s somewhere in the building,” Jordan insists. “I’ve been sitting out front this whole time.”
There are other exits out of Pierce Industries, but they’d be difficult for her to get to. It’s possible that she gave Jordan the slip, but for some reason, I don’t think that’s her plan. “Stay on the line while I check the loft.”
Maybe she did plan to surprise me. Naked in my bed upstairs. I can hope, anyway.
While I take the private elevator up to my quarters, I question Jordan further. “You’re supposed to report whenever she goes anywhere. Why didn’t you tell me when you got here?”
“She asked me to give her a few minutes. After that, I figured you would have already worked it out.” Jordan sounds as anxious as I feel. “Do you want me to come up?”
“No. Stay out there. Watch the doors.” I’m in the loft now. Even without checking the bedroom and the bath, I know she’s not here. The room feels too ordinary. I’d sense her if she were here.
God, I’m beginning to sound like Mirabelle.
“She’s not here,” I tell Jordan. And now I’m fully concerned. “I’m checking the live camera feeds. Contact security and have them review the last half hour’s tapes. See if we can trace her.”
I end the call and head back down the elevator. After checking to make sure my secretary hasn’t seen her, I return to my office. The closet in the far corner houses a private media cabinet. Here, I have a system set up to duplicate all the camera feeds from the main security desk. These don’t record anything except for the cameras around my office. A quick scan through all the feeds of the main hallways and elevators turns up no sight of her. Not expecting to find anything on the recordings—she’d be here if she came to my floor, after all—I rewind frame by frame anyway.