Forever with You

Even though I’d responded to none of them so far, each was written as if I would. I rolled my eyes at one sent earlier that day.

I ordered a futon for me as well. Maybe sleeping on it will make me feel closer to you.

And then later, after eleven p.m., he sent several in a row:

God, this sucks shit. I wasn’t sleeping before but at least I was comfortable.

I’ll continue to endeavor, though. If this is how you’re sleeping, I shall as well.

You know, we could both be together in the bed at the penthouse. If I remember correctly, the lack of sleep we got had nothing to do with the comfort of the mattress. ;)

Before I could stop myself, I shot a text back:

Hudson Pierce using an emoticon…will wonders never cease?

It was two in the morning and he responded immediately. He really wasn’t sleeping.

I’m hoping they don’t cease. If I ever have you in my arms again, that will certainly be a wonder. Goodnight, precious.

That night I slept with the phone next to me. Though I didn’t often reply, I read the texts he sent from then on. Each and every one.

The gifts continued through the week with jewelry, tickets to the symphony, and a new laptop. On the days I worked at the club, the packages would be waiting there. Obviously Hudson was still monitoring my schedule, which was both irritating and sort of a turn-on.

Thursday, though, there was nothing on my desk when I arrived. I told myself it was silly to be disappointed. He didn’t have to give me something every day to prove he was thinking about me. And I didn’t want him thinking about me all the time anyway, did I?

I was still mulling around the question, still thinking about him, when the club opened for the evening. Since one of the bartenders had called in sick, I stepped in to help at the upstairs bar. We were hopping before the clock even hit eleven, so I was somewhat distracted when Liesl bent near me. “Did you see the suit at the end of the bar?”

“No,” I said with a scowl. If she thought I would be interested in ogling man candy, she was wrong.

She winked. “Well, check him out then.”

I finished topping the beer mug in my hand and, against my better judgment, shot a glance to the end of the counter.

He was sitting in the same seat that he’d been in the first time I saw him, wearing the same suit, if I wasn’t mistaken.

And the way he stared at me? His eyes held the same heat as they had that night before my graduation. That burn that was more than lust, more than desire, it was possession.

Was it wrong that I smiled?

When I could finally tear myself away from Hudson’s magnetic stare, I made a Scotch, neat, and delivered it to him.

“The service here is excellent,” he said when I handed him his glass. As he took it from me, he brushed his fingers against mine.

Or had that been me that had done that?

Either way, the contact sent goose bumps ru

And my heart played some sort of Switzerland in the whole transaction, deciding not to make its desires clear.

With the war going on inside, I didn’t know what to do or say. I stood frozen, my gaze locked on his. It felt so good—so right—to do nothing but get lost in his grays. Couldn’t I find a way to do this every day of my life?

“Order!” a waitress called from down the counter.

I blinked, recovering from the trance Hudson had me in. “I have to go.” Silly to explain. I didn’t owe him anything. “Um, will you be wanting another when you’ve finished?”

“No, just the one. But I might sit here for a while, if you don’t mind.” His eyes moved down my body. “The view is stu

I turned before he could see my blush.

When he left, over an hour later, he settled his bill with Liesl. I only noticed he was leaving when she handed me an envelope. “This is from the suit.”

I opened it and found a hundred dollar bill and a certificate to his spa in Poughkeepsie—the same gifts he’d given me that night in May.

“Liesl, I’ll, um, I’ll be right back.” Maybe it was because I was disappointed to see him go, but I came up with an excuse to run after him.

“Hudson!” I yelled when I found him outside headed toward the parking garage.

He stopped and waited for me to catch up.

I held the envelope out toward him. “I can’t accept this. I’m in charge here. I can’t leave for a week to go to a spa.”

It suddenly occurred to me that we hadn’t talked about my job since our break-up. “Unless you’d rather I wasn’t working here.”

“Don’t ever think that.” His tone was harsh, final. “If you think you can’t work with me as your owner, I’ll give you the club.” He would too, knowing him.

And that was definitely not a gift I could accept. “I just want to keep my job, thank you.”

He softened. “It’s yours as long as you want it.” He pushed my hand that still held the envelope back toward me. “And the certificate—keep it. You can use it anytime you want. There’s no expiration.” His fingers lingered on mine.

Was this what we’d been reduced to? Stealing touches at any opportunity possible? Making up reasons to talk?

I pulled my hand—and the envelope—away from his. “Fine. Whatever.”

A chill ran through me, though the night was warm. Frantically, I searched for something else to say. “There’s another thing.” I took a deep breath. There really was something I’d been avoiding. “I need to get my stuff from the penthouse.”

His mouth tightened. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

I ignored him. It was the easiest way to deal with statements like that. Especially when I so liked the way they sounded on his lips. “I want to come get the rest of my things Monday.”

“I can have it packed and moved for you, if you’d like.”

“I’d rather pack it myself.” If he packed, I’d end up with all sorts of things that didn’t belong to me—things he wanted me to have. As sweet as it might be, I didn’t want his gifts. I also didn’t have any room for them in the apartment with Liesl. Even if we got a two-bedroom place together as we’d been talking about doing, we couldn’t afford anything that big.

“At least let me arrange a truck.” His tone was insistent, but his eyes were pleading. It was hard to resist.

So I didn’t. “Okay. You can do that.” Only because it was going to be a pain to do it myself. And he did owe me.

“It’s done.” His lip curled up at the edge. “This doesn’t mean I’m done trying to win you back.”

“I didn’t think for a second that it did.” Though I bit back a smile, my pleasure at his declaration showed in my voice.

Hudson tilted his head to study me. “You say that as if you almost enjoy my groveling.”

I rolled my eyes and turned toward the club with a wave. But I couldn’t resist calling back over my shoulder, “I couldn’t say, H. I haven’t really seen you grovel yet.”

Friday and Saturday saw more gifts delivered—a coffee table book of pictures from the Poconos and concert tickets to Phillip Phillips.

“He’s, like, recalling your entire relationship with this stuff, isn’t he?” Liesl said on Sunday as I opened the box that had arrived that morning. “I hate to say it, but he’s kinda good.”

I wadded up the brown packaging paper from the box and tossed it at her. “Shut up.”

“What’s this one?”

“I don’t know yet.” I pulled out the John Legend CD I found inside and read the song list on back. I knew of the artist but had never listened to any of his music. The case wasn’t sealed so I opened it easily and found Hudson’s note.

This is the song that makes me think of you. Track 6. - H