“Thoughts?” She’s not testing me for an emotional reaction. There are no secrets between us anymore. Particularly not about my old partner in crime.
“Regarding Celia? Good for her.” It’s as much attention as I will give to the woman on the birthday of my first child. It doesn’t mean I don’t wonder about her on occasion, or that I didn’t pause when I heard her news. Part of me hopes her romance is genuine. Wouldn’t that be ironic?
But it’s entirely possible the engagement is simply a scam or her parents’ arrangement. She’s likely still cold and unfeeling. Maybe even unhappy and miserable.
I won’t lie. There’s a small part of me that wishes for the latter. Okay, a big part of me.
“Yeah, good for her.” Alayna’s tone seems indifferent, and I sense the bitterness she once carried for Celia has been replaced with other things. Things that matter. The prestige of running New York’s Hippest Club of the year, according to the Village Voice. Two anniversaries celebrated with a husband who loves her more than could ever be expressed. A newborn baby who coos and clicks in her sleep.
Alayna stares down again at her pink-hatted bundle. I think she could look at her baby forever. I could look at her looking at her baby forever. Jesus, I’m getting mushy in my old age.
I turn back to the tablet and click for advanced search. I enter a meaning, curious if any names will pop up. A list of over fifty does. I scan through them, my breath catching on one. I click the name to read the definition further.
“Alayna,” I say, still not believing my eyes, “did you know your name means precious?”
She’s taken aback. “Seriously?”
“Precious; sun ray. See?” I show her the tablet where the definition is clear as day.
She blinks at the screen. “Did you know that?”
“I had no idea.” I’m not sure if she realizes how often I’ve referred to her as the light in my darkness. Her name is completely fitting for her. For the woman that would be mine.
“It was fated,” Alayna says with the sweetest grin. “I was meant to be yours. You knew what I was about before I did.”
I can’t stand it. She’s too beautiful. Too perfect. I look back at the tablet. “You’re giving me too much credit.”
“No, I’m not.”
And, I think, maybe she’s right. Maybe we were fated or destined to find each other. Maybe everything that happened to me and Celia and Alayna was all meant to happen, each painful part playing out in order to lead us to our personal happy ending.
Or maybe it’s just coincidence. And does it really matter? It’s a happy ending either way.
Our baby stirs again, this time with more determination. “She’s waking up.” I watch her tilt her head toward Alayna, her little mouth open and searching.
“Hey, she’s rooting,” Alayna exclaims.
“It looks to me like she’s trying to suck your breast.” I tickle my baby’s cheek with my finger. “I get it, little girl. I like sucking her breasts too.”
Alayna laughs. “That’s called rooting, you dork.”
“It’s not called rooting when I do it.”
“No, that’s called awesome,” she says, looking up at me with that devilish grin of hers, the one that can make me instantly hard if I’m not careful.
Again, I have to look away. “Stop it. You’re going to make me horny, and the nurse said six days.”
“Six weeks.”
I sigh. “I suppose I heard wrong.”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
I return my focus to the screen in front of me and scan further down the list. “What do you think about the name Mina?”
“Mina? Mina Louise.” She repeats it, testing it out. “I like it. What does it mean?”
“Precious. In Sanskrit.” I gaze down at my daughter—my daughter!—and watch her fight to open her eyes, her little lids squeezing tight and relaxing before they pop open. “Look at her. What do you think? Does it fit?”
“She’s certainly precious.”
“Like her mother.”
I toss the iPad to the end of the bed and wrap my arms around my wife and child. For someone who once felt very little, I am now overwhelmed with emotions. My heart is full to the brim, overflowing with love. So much love.
Sometimes it’s hard to even remember that I ever was another man. That I ever was anything but this one—a man who will fill a camera with newborn baby pictures and tear up as his precious daughter opens her eyes. A man who found sunshine in his dark existence when he deserved it least.
Alayna Withers changed everything for me. I can easily divide my life into two parts—before her and after. The person I was in that time long ago and the person I became when my eyes first found hers.
Though that isn’t entirely accurate. Before her, I never really lived. So there is only after.
I begin and end with her. It’s as simple and as profound as that. Our worlds have entwined and wrapped around each other’s completely. They’ve shaped into something new and fixed and whole. There is no longer her story or mine, but now and always, only ours.
Did you love Hudson? Read it again in paperback or audiobook.
A note to Readers - Where do we go from here?
Dear Reader,
I hope you’ve enjoyed Hudson and Alayna’s story so far. It concludes in the book Fixed Forever which follows after this.
Before you dive into their final installment, I want to mention that there are a couple of other stories that take place in the Fixed Universe, and if you want the best reading experience possible, you may want to read them before reading Fixed Forever.
Free Me - Gwen’s story
Find Me - the conclusion of Gwen’s story
Chandler - Hudson’s little brother has grown-up
Falling Under You - a spinoff novella/Norma and Boyd’s story
Dirty Filthy Fix - a spinoff novella about Trish, Hudson’s secretary
While reading these additional books is not necessary to enjoy Alayna and Hudson’s conclusion, these characters all show up and are referenced in the final book. If you plan on reading them at all, I’d read them first!
Whichever you decide, thank you for going on this journey with these characters thus far. It’s been a true pleasure and highlight of my life to get to bring Alayna and Hudson and their friends to you.
xoxo
Laurelin
Fixed Forever
The final book in the New York Times and internationally bestselling series…
Hudson Pierce-
You act so high and mighty, you and your perfect pregnant wife Alayna. With your perfect child and your perfect home.
You weren't always perfect. Your past is filled with misdeeds.
Does your wife know all your secrets?
Would she stand behind you if she did?
You think because she’s on bedrest you can protect her? How sweet.
Sleep tight, you two.
-An Old Friend.
...HIS PAST WAS SUPPOSED TO BE BEHIND THEM.
Prologue
Hudson Pierce:
You act so high and mighty, you and your perfect pregnant wife, Alayna. With your perfect child and your perfect home.
You weren't always perfect. Your past is filled with misdeeds.
Does your wife know all your secrets?
Would she stand behind you if she did?
You think because she’s on bedrest you can protect her? How sweet.
Sleep tight, you two.
-An Old Friend.
1
Alayna
The thing about being a person with a history of acting crazy was that I couldn’t tell myself if my thoughts and actions were sane.
When I was on the other side of it, completely “normal,” whatever that meant, I could see the unreasonableness from before. Just not when I was in it. It almost felt like a different Alayna who had spent days and weeks obsessing over the tiniest things. Someone familiar, but not me.
But it was all me. Every Alayna was a part of me.
I stared at myself in the mirror, at the light circles under my eyes—signs of motherhood. I was starting to develop wrinkles when I smiled, but otherwise my face still looked young and cared for, thanks to the best beauty products. My hair was a tangled mess from bed, but it had been recently cut and styled. My pupils weren't dilated. My body wasn't fidgeting. On the outside I looked healthy, in control, normal. Tired and worn out, maybe, but that was to be expected.
I looked exactly like the woman I was—Alayna Reese Withers Pierce.
The trouble was, both Alayna’s wore this face.
"There you are," Hudson's voice was gravelly with sleep. I met his gaze in the mirror as he came up behind me and placed a kiss on the top of my head. "Rough night?"
I shook my head. "One of them woke up at five. Took the bottle and was right back out." I reached for my eye cream, to have something to do. I wondered how long I’d been staring at myself before he walked in.
Thankfully, Hudson didn't really seem to be awake enough to notice that I’d just been standing there, wondering if I was okay, if my swirling thoughts were normal or symptomatic. He padded into the bathroom and shut the door, but called out, "Which one was it?”
"Whichever one slept in the green and yellow frog pajamas." Was I a bad mother for not being awake enough to realize which twin I had fed in the dark? He didn’t think so, at least.
Hudson had dressed them for bed the night before. He liked being part of the evening routine. It made him feel involved with parenting even when he worked all day at the office. And I enjoyed the break. I never knew what a luxury sitting down with a glass of iced tea was until the babies arrived.
"That was Brett," he said coming back from the bathroom. He headed over to his sink and washed his hands. "Should've guessed."
I dabbed the eye cream under one eye as I glanced at my husband. "Are you saying our little girl has an appetite?"
"I'm saying our little girl will do anything to get more time with her mama."
Seven years together, and he was still a charmer. I couldn't help returning his grin.
"You should get back to bed. Get some more sleep before they wake up for good."
I could probably get in another two or three hours before Mina, our four-year-old, woke up. It was anyone's guess with the twins.
But my head was spinning. I couldn’t sleep now.
"I'll get there. Eventually." I turned my focus back to the mirror so Hudson wouldn't see the anxiety in my gaze.
Unfortunately, he knew me well enough. He didn't have to see my face to recognize it was there. "You're still thinking about yesterday's news, aren't you?"
I blew out a strangled sigh. Of course I was still thinking about it. The question was, why wasn't he?
The answer could very well be that my crazy was seeping back in.
So I didn't ask. I let my huff be my complete declaration. Whether I was crazy or not, I still had a right to my displeasure.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him leaning against the counter, his boxers hanging low on his toned hips. "Alayna," he said in that warning tone of his. "You need to talk to me."
I huffed again, dropping the cream jar on the counter before turning to face him. "She's going to be a member of our family, Hudson. Don’t you see why I’m concerned?"
"It's not exactly close family. And, really, she's been family all my life." He was using his patient tone with me. The one that was calm and steady and even. The one that made my volume increase and my temper flare.
"Your mother was best friends with her mother. That's not the same as your brother marrying her step-daughter. Now there will be legal ties. There will be Thanksgivings with her, and Christmases and summer vacations and baby showers." I shuddered at the thought of Celia Werner around my babies.
Correction, Celia Fasbender.
"It's not like she's ever going to be alone with our children," Hudson said reasonably. "I think you will be surprised how infrequently we really do interact with her. She lives in England, after all. She’ll go back there eventually." He pushed off the counter and headed over to the shower, turning the water on and sticking his hand in to check the temperature. "You were the one who told me not to overreact when they started dating, as I recall."
That had been true. When Chandler had begun dating Genevieve, Hudson had realized her father was married to our arch nemesis and he’d tried to put his foot down. Told his brother no way. It had been me who saw how much Chandler felt for his girlfriend, and I’d convinced Hudson it was not our place to interfere.
But I hadn't expected him to propose to the girl.
"It was supposed to be a fling!” I said, exasperated all over again. “Chandler was supposed to lose interest when he realized this wasn't a Montague-Capulet situation. This wasn't supposed to be permanent!"
“And now things have changed.” Hudson turned to face me, then dropped his boxers to the floor. "She's different now. We don't have anything to be concerned about." He walked into the shower, and even if he didn’t mean for it to be, it felt like he intended it to be an end to the conversation.
"But you don't know that she's different now," I shouted after him. "You’re just guessing. She didn’t do anything to show you that she’s different."
"She fell in love," he called through the steam. “That changes people. You know that.”
"Or she's playing like she fell in love." Which felt a lot more likely to me. Women like Celia didn’t fall in love. They played long games. And this was her longest one yet. I was certain.
Hudson stuck his head out of the shower. "Come here."
I folded my arms across my chest and leaned back against the counter stubbornly. "Why?"
"Just do it."
I never could deny him when he talked to me in that commanding way. With a reluctant frown, I trudged toward him, weighted down by my fears.
When I was close enough, he pulled me into the walk-in shower with him.
“Hudson! I’m in my nightgown!” I shrieked, as the water from the rainfall showerhead poured over me.
“It’s covered with spit up.”
As if that was the reason he’d brought me in here. To wash my baby-stained clothing.
I glowered at him while he wrestled the nightdress over my head and tossed it to the shower floor behind us. That was better. With the physical weight of the wet clothing gone, it somehow felt like part of the weight of my anxiety had disappeared too.
The hot water beating down on my tense muscles probably helped.
And the way Hudson was rubbing the knot at the base of my neck.
I tilted my head to give him better access, even though I knew full well what he was doing. “You’re trying to distract me. You think I’m acting crazy. That I’m obsessing over this whole Chandler and Genevieve getting married thing and worrying too much about Celia.”
“Are you?”
I thought about it longer than I needed to. It was what I’d been thinking about when he’d walked in on me. What I’d been thinking about all night long. “I don’t know. I can’t tell.”
He circled around behind me and moved his massage to both shoulders. “I’m not worried about it.”
I couldn’t see his eyes now to see if he was lying. Not that he would lie to me—he didn’t do that anymore. The only reason I wondered about his response was because, in my opinion, he should be lying. He should be worried. I would have been worried if I were him. After what I’d put him through the last six months.
But also, I was grateful that he wasn’t concerned. Because until I’d heard the news yesterday about Celia becoming a family member, I was pretty sure myself that I’d gotten better.
And it was pretty fucking amazeballs that my husband still believed in me.
I leaned back into his hands. “If you aren’t trying to distract me,” I asked, my eyes closed, “then why did you drag me in here?”
“Because I do think you need to give
yourself a break. Stop being so hard on yourself. Make time for the things you enjoy—your books, your movies. Your husband.” He pressed the full length of his body against mine, and if I hadn’t caught his meaning from his words, I certainly didn’t miss the familiar ridge of his erection against the base of my spine.
“It’s been five days,” I laughed, amused at how his tone suggested it had been five months.
“That’s even longer than I’d thought.” He pulled my hair to one side and nibbled at my ear.
Honestly, he was right—I hadn’t made enough time for me. For him. It was hard with three kids under four, but I was on an extended maternity leave from The Sky Launch, and I had nannies. There was no excuse for not being with him more often when we both wanted it. When we met, the idea of going five hours without his hands on me was unthinkable, let alone five days.
Besides, I did tend to obsess less when I was distracted. Especially when I was distracted by him.
The point was further made when his arms curled around me, one snaking down past my once flat stomach to sweep his fingers over the round bud of my clit.
I sighed into his body, instantly becoming aroused. He could do that to me. I was Pavlov. I knew the reward that followed the ding of the bell.
“That’s it,” he murmured at my ear.
I responded in kind, rubbing my ass along his stiff cock. “I miss you.”
“Tell me I’m right,” he coaxed. “Tell me you want it. Tell me you deserve it.” He stooped behind me so that his crown nudged between my legs. “Tell me you aren’t going to forget about taking care of yourself again.”
“You’re right I want it I deserve it I’ll take care of myself now hurry please Hudson please.” It came out as one long run-on sentence, my orgasm already beginning to peak just from his nimble fingers.
I didn’t have to ask again. Without letting up on his manipulation of my clit, he angled himself and shoved in, filling me completely with one stroke. He’d been inside me so many times now, he could find the way easily, and still, his first thrust always felt like an exquisite invasion. No matter how well I thought I remembered what the pulse of his cock would feel like against my walls, it never failed to be a million times better.
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