“I could burn the diary and pretend I never saw it.”

“And then what? Never tell the guy his kid might not be his? I know you, Stella. That would eat a hole in your stomach.”

I looked into Fisher’s eyes. “She’s the light of his life. I think I’d rather it eat a hole in my stomach than break Hudson’s heart.”

“But you can’t even function. You haven’t had a real conversation with him since you figured all this out. You can’t keep it in unless you’re leaving his life entirely.” Fisher frowned. “Christ, if it’s true… Think of how many lives that one diary has ruined. You might never have found out what Aiden was doing had you not been reading it. And now this. It’s really crazy.” He paused, shaking his head. “But you need to tell him, honey. He has a right to know.”

It felt like there was a golf ball stuck in my throat. I swallowed. “I know.”

After our talk, Fisher and I proceeded to polish off both bottles of wine. I was trying to drown my brain, hoping maybe it would allow me to stop thinking about what I needed to do for just a few minutes. But all the alcohol seemed to do was make me feel sadder.

I felt tears threatening. “I don’t want to lose him, Fisher. I miss him like crazy, and it’s been less than a week since I saw him.”

Fisher stroked my hair. “I saw the way Hudson looked at you. That man is crazy about you, too. You’re not going to lose him, but you do need to talk to him. It can’t be avoided anymore.”

I sighed. “I know. I’ve just felt so paralyzed these last few days.”

I walked Fisher to the door about ten. “I’ll bring us breakfast in the morning when you’re sober so we can talk about how you’re going to tell him,” he said.

I sighed. “Okay. Thank you.”

He tilted my chin up. “You going to be okay?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

After I shut the door, I cleaned up the wine glasses and tossed the empty bottles in the garbage. When I went to flip the kitchen light switch off, I saw Fisher had left his key to my apartment on the counter. I assumed he’d figure it out in the morning when he came with breakfast, so I flicked off the kitchen light and decided I couldn’t put off a shower any longer.

In the bathroom, I got undressed while I let the water steam up the room. Just as I put one foot into the shower, my buzzer sounded.

I sighed. Fisher realized he doesn’t have his key.

Wrapping a towel around me, I grabbed the key on my way to the front door. Maybe the alcohol had me acting carelessly, but it never even occurred to me that it might be someone other than Fisher. So without checking the peephole, I swung the door open.

“I know, I know. You forgot your ke—” I froze, finding a man who was definitely not Fisher on the other side of the door.

Hudson’s brows pulled to a troubled V. “Expecting someone else?”

***

“I, uh, Fisher forgot his key, so I assumed it was him.”

Hudson and I stood there looking at each other. I felt so rattled after we’d just spoken about him for hours that I didn’t know what to say or do. Hell, I hadn’t known what to say or do for a week now.

Eventually, he sighed. “Is it alright if I come in?”

“Oh…yeah, sure. Sorry.”

I closed the door behind him and tried to regain my wits, but I was so nervous that I couldn’t figure out how to function. Again we stared at each other awkwardly.

Hudson had to break our silence. “Sorry I didn’t call first.”

I tightened the corner of my towel. “It’s okay.”

“Is it? I didn’t call because I figured you would say no if I did, and right about now it feels like it’s not okay for me to be here.”

I hated that I was making him feel unwelcome. “I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting you. Fisher was over and we drank wine, and I was about to take a quick shower and jump into bed.”

He frowned. “I can go…”

“No, no…” I shook my head. “You don’t have to go.”

Hudson caught my eye. “I was hoping we could talk.”

I nodded and thumbed toward my bedroom door. “Sure, yeah. Let me just go turn off the water and get dressed.”

“Why don’t you take your shower? I’ll wait.”

I did need a few minutes to gather my thoughts. I’d planned to deliberate for at least a few days on how to tell him what I knew. Now I had only the time it took to take a shower. “If you don’t mind, that would be great. Thank you.” I motioned toward the couch. “Make yourself at home.”

In the shower, my head was a jumbled mess, and I felt a little lightheaded. But I didn’t have time for a complete meltdown, so I stood under the water, closed my eyes, and took a few deep breaths until it felt like the world had stopped spinning so fast.

There was no easy way to begin the conversation I needed to have, and I could no longer hide behind any doubts I’d fabricated about the information. Everything lined up. Even Fisher was convinced. So I guessed I’d just have to start from the beginning. Hudson already knew I read diaries, and I was pretty sure I’d told him about the one where the woman got married at the New York Public Library. So I suppose something like, I read this diary a while ago… is how I would start. But then what? Did I say, Hey, by the way, did you ever suspect your wife was having an affair? That made me hyperventilate.

What if I’m wrong?

What if I’m right?

What if telling him takes the most sacred thing in his life away?

Am I ruining a little girl’s life?

Would I want to know if my dad wasn’t really my dad?

Oh, God. That thought made my head spin even more. The way my parents slept around, it was entirely possible that my father wasn’t my father.

Oh, Lord. Who cares about my family? I wished it were me this was happening to, not Hudson and his beautiful little girl.

For the rest of my shower, random thoughts popped into my head, and I alternated between trying to keep up with them and trying to calm myself down with slow breathing. Would I die if I climbed out my bedroom window to escape? When my hands started to get pruney, I knew I had to pull my shit together.

So I turned off the water, dried off, brushed out my hair, and pulled on sweats and a T-shirt before wiping the steam from the mirror and giving myself a little internal pep talk.

Everything’s going to be fine. No matter what the outcome, eventually things will fall into place the way they’re supposed to be. It may be a bumpy road, but if a diary about a man I’m crazy about made its way into my hands before I met him—there’s a reason for it. Somehow God put this in my hands, and, in the end, everything will be right.

I took one last deep breath and whispered to myself, “It’s all in fate’s hands now.” Then I opened the bedroom door.

Only to find it wasn’t in fate’s hands.

It was in Hudson’s.

Because I’d left the diary on the coffee table, and he was currently reading it.

He looked up. “Why the hell do you have my ex-wife’s diary?”

CHAPTER 31