Inferno Anthology (175 page)

I could run. With Jordan driving me around so much, a bit of aerobic activity would be good for me. I changed into shorts and a tank top, put on my running shoes and started out.

The run helped clear my head, the endorphins flowing through my body making me feel better and more confident. And invincible. Which was why when I found my route had led me to the Pierce Industries building, I convinced myself it didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t a big deal to be there. Especially since I only went inside to use the bathroom in the lobby before resuming my run.

I felt so good from the exercise that I decided to skip therapy all together and keep on with my run for a while longer, continuing to the Lincoln tunnel before turning around. I passed the Pierce Industries building again on my way back. And since I knew there was a drinking fountain inside, I went in again, this time lingering a bit in the lobby, scoping out the elevators looking for some sign of Hudson in the building. I managed to make myself leave before I slipped into a car and pushed the button for the top floor.

The next day I didn’t possess as much strength.

Not only did I return to the building three times, but each time I rode the elevator. I told myself it couldn’t be called stalking exactly, because Hudson was out of town—though I had yet to accept that as truth—and because I never actually pushed the button for Hudson’s floor. Instead, I let fate take me wherever, journeying with whoever stepped on to whatever floor they were going to, then forcing myself to return back to the lobby. It felt like elevator roulette—if the car took me to the top floor, then I was meant to stop by Hudson’s office. But each time, I missed the bullet, the other passengers never choosing his floor.

Until Wednesday.

Even though my shift the night before had gotten me home at almost six in the morning, I was awake and back at the Pierce building before one that afternoon. My first ride took me only to the fifth floor. When the passenger stepped out and the doors closed, I leaned against the back of the car and sighed, knowing the car would return to the lobby if I didn’t push a button.

But instead of going down, the car went up. Someone must have summoned it from a floor above. I held my breath as I watched the needle rise higher and higher. Then it stopped on the top floor. Not the secret top floor that required a code and would take me to the loft, but to the floor that Hudson’s office was located on. I braced myself for what I’d see when the doors opened, hoping I’d learn something by peeking around whoever stepped into the car with me.

But I wasn’t prepared for the sight that met me. Three men in suits were laughing and joking as the doors parted. And with them was Hudson.

“Alayna.” His voice was even as always, with only a hint of surprise in his tone.

I froze, my body unable to move, my mouth unable to speak. A wave of jumbled emotions ran through me: I was happy to see him, yet petrified. Enraged to find he was in town after all and somewhat satisfied that my suspicions had been right.

Hudson held a hand out to me. Automatically my arm moved to take it, and he pulled me out to stand next to him. He turned to the men with him. “Gentlemen, my girlfriend has decided to surprise me with a visit to my office.”

I managed to smile before pinning my stare to my gray running shoes.

“That can never be good,” one of the other men said and they all laughed. “Well, we’ll leave you to her then. Thank you again for meeting with us.”

I barely heard the goodbyes the men exchanged with Hudson before they took my place in the car, and how I made it the short distance to his office was beyond me. I was numb, my mind consumed with the fact that I was someplace that I shouldn’t be.

The office doors clicked closed behind us. Hudson must have held my hand the whole way there, but I didn’t notice until he dropped it and walked away from me. “What are you doing here, Alayna?”

I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, but the absence of anger in his tone brought me out of my haze. I could get myself through this. I’d been good at talking my way through things in my obsessive days. I’d explain and he’d believe me and all would be fine.

But I didn’t want to be that girl anymore.

It was right then that I’d realized the severity of what I’d been doing: I’d been stalking. For the first time in years. I’d fallen off the wagon with probably the worst person I could fall off the wagon with. If I’d thought restraining orders and lawsuits had been a nightmare when they were filed by Ian, my last object of obsession, imagine what it would be like with a powerful man like Hudson.

But even more than that—recovering from my addiction to Ian had been hard, but possible. Hudson, though…I couldn’t even bear to think about not being around him in some way or another, no matter what the context.

Hudson was waiting for my answer. I could feel him studying me. I hugged my arms around myself and took a deep breath. “I, uh, I wanted to see if you were back.”

I nearly sobbed with the honesty of my statement, but if Hudson noticed, he didn’t let on. “I got back late last night. You could have called. Or texted.”

My mind reached for the steps of talking through unhealthy behaviors. I’d learned them many times in therapy.
Communicate your fears openly and honestly
. Closing my eyes to stymie my tears, I said, “You don’t answer my texts.”

“I didn’t answer one text.”

I opened my eyes and found him staring at me intently as he leaned against his desk. I brushed away the one tear that had escaped down my cheek and met his gaze. “It was my only text.”

I heard how it sounded. Ridiculous. An overreaction. We weren’t together. Why should he answer my texts? He had to be regretting his choice for a pretend girlfriend now. Now that he saw the extent of my crazy.

Our eyes remained locked, but I could read nothing in his expression. It seemed like forever before his face softened and he said, “I didn’t realize it was important to you. I’ll make a better effort to respond in the future.”

My mouth fell open.

He straightened to a standing position. “But you can’t just come here like this. How do you think it looks to have my girlfriend wandering around the lobby, riding the elevators when I’m not even in town?”

“How did you…?”

“I pay people to know things, Alayna.”

He knew. Of course, he knew. I’d decided to communicate honestly, but had hoped I didn’t have to be that honest. That he knew I’d been by his office several times, that I’d roamed the building…I was humiliated.

More tears fell. “I…I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Please, don’t do it again.” He was stern, but did I detect a note of compassion?

His reaction was all wrong. He should have been more pissed, more freaked out. “Why are you being like this?”

His brow wrinkled. “Like what?”

“I’ve fucked things up, Hudson! You should be calling your security to escort me out. I’m a mess and you’re taking it all in stride.” The tears fell fast now. There was no stopping them.

His face eased and he stepped toward me. “No,” he said softly, his tone embracing me even though his arms didn’t. “That’s what I meant about being around someone who understood. I know about compulsion. I know about having to do things you know you shouldn’t.”

He wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb, his hand resting there longer than necessary. “When you feel you can’t help yourself, talk to me first.”

The anxious knot I’d felt for days dissolved under his words. Had he been right? Could we help each other through our pains? Could we fix each other?

I looked into his eyes and wanted again to believe as he did, this time much closer to saying that I did.

But before I could say anything, his secretary’s voice boomed through the office. “Mr. Pierce, your one-thirty is here.”

Hudson sighed, dropping his hand from my face. “I apologize for cutting this short, Alayna, but I have another meeting now. And I’m leaving again this evening.”

My spirits sank. I didn’t know if I believed him, but I did know I didn’t want distance between us. That was what had spurred my obsessive episode this week. Well, he’d asked for me to share… “I hate that you’re leaving. It makes me feel a little distraught.” A lot distraught, actually.

His eyes lit up. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” He took my hand and squeezed. “Join me tomorrow night for the symphony.”

My heart flip-flopped. “Yes.”

“I’ll pick you up at six. Wear the dress.”

***

I made it to group that afternoon before meeting with David. I’d made a mistake, but Hudson was willing to look past it. More than willing. And that made it so much easier to believe that I wasn’t doomed to be totally freaky with him. I had to make an effort to stay well.

Not comfortable telling my situation to everyone, not when people might know about my connection with Hudson, I was vague on my turn to share. “I’m…I’ve slipped a bit.”

It was an accurate enough statement. My behavior hadn’t been as bad as it could have been. But every journey starts with a single step—even the journeys we shouldn’t be taking, and at the rate I’d been going that week, I’d be well on my way down the obsession road before I had a grip.

Lauren nodded sympathetically. “When you get home, I’d like you to write out a list of your recent negative behaviors, including behaviors you only thought about engaging in. Then come up with a list of healthy behaviors you can substitute whenever you feel compelled to engage in an unhealthy one. Do you need any help?”

“No.” I’d done this before. More than once. I still had all the substitute behaviors memorized from the last time I’d gone off the wagon:
Run, do yoga, take an extra shift at work, concentrate on school, visit Brian.
Obviously my list needed updating.

“Good. You know your patterns. Are you still journaling?”

“I haven’t in a while.” A long while.

Lauren smiled. “I recommend you start again.” She was always good for a swift kick in the butt.

“Okay.” And I would. But something told me that of all the suggestions I’d received that day, the best one had been from Hudson himself:
When you can’t help yourself, talk to me.

I was quiet the rest of the session, replaying an old favorite quote over and over in my head, committing myself to modifying my actions.
If there is no struggle, there is no progress. If there is no struggle, there is no progress.

I felt better after group, stronger and my head clear. As Jordan drove me to work later, I added to my substitute behaviors list, including making it a goal to watch every title on the AFI’s 100 Greatest Movies list and continue reading the top one hundred books on GreatestBooks.org.

My good mood and healthy attitude gave me courage to send a text to Hudson before I walked into my meeting with David that evening.
“Do you really have to leave town again?”

This time I got a response instantly.
“I’m afraid so.”

He’d listened—had adjusted his behavior knowing how it affected me to not get a response. Before I could decide how to answer, he sent another.
“But I’m glad to know you’re thinking of me.”

A tingle spread through my body.
“Always,”
I told him before I could stop myself. What was I doing? What were
we
doing? We weren’t lovers anymore—were we becoming something else? Something more like friends? Friends who flirted by text?

Whatever we were doing, it felt good. So good that I followed my last text with another more dangerous message.
“Are you thinking of me?”

David opened his office door, interrupting my feel-good moment before Hudson had a chance to reply. “Laynie, come in.” David was stiff and his voice tight.

His serious demeanor made me stuff my phone in my bra. “Is everything okay?” I thought back to his message from Monday. “What came up the other day?” I asked as I took a seat in front of his desk.

“This.” David threw a folded newspaper down on the desk before sitting in his chair across from me.

Puzzled, I picked up the newspaper and scanned for what might have put him in such a foul mood. And there it was, in full color on the top of Monday’s society section, the picture of Hudson and me kissing.

“Oh. That.” David had been the one person I’d been scared of telling. I feared he’d jump to conclusions. The wrong conclusions.

And he did. “You want to explain this, Laynie?” He stood and began pacing, not pausing long enough for me to answer. “‘Cause I’ll tell you what it looks like. It looks like you were so eager to get your precious promotion that, when you couldn’t get it by playing me, you chose to go after the next guy who could get you what you wanted.”

I put a hand out in front of me as if to stop him from saying what he was saying. “It’s not like that, David. It was never like that.” How could he think that I’d liked him for a promotion? That I’d been insincere when I’d been with him?

“It wasn’t?” He stopped pacing and leaned toward me, his palms on his desk. “Then tell me what it was like, Laynie.”

“It’s…I can’t…” My floundering was exacerbated by the buzz of my phone against my breast. I knew it was a reply from Hudson, and I longed to read it. But there was no way I could right then. Not with David raging in front of me.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He straightened, a look of utter disgust joining the scowl on his face. “Now I’m forced to move you up, implement your ideas, never mind that I was going to anyway, or fear for my own job.” He laughed dryly. “I’m probably grooming you to take my place.”

“David, no.” This was worse than I had imagined. I didn’t want him to think I ever wanted to take his job from him. I had imagined us running The Sky Launch together. Though the romantic part of that duo was no longer appealing to me, I still very much wanted the business duo.

“Does Pierce have any idea about me?”

“David, don’t.”

His eyes narrowed. “Does he know that you’re The Sky Launch slut?”

That was the turning point. Instead of feeling bad, I got pissed. And when I got pissed, I used all the weapons in my arsenal. “If you really believe what you’re saying, David, that I have some power over Hudson, then maybe you should be a little more careful how you talk to me.”