Goddammit.

She’d been a drinker most of my life, so I was used to all her modes of intoxication. Usually, she kept her shit together in public. Whatever made her go overboard tonight, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. But someone had to rescue her, or at least keep her from embarrassing herself or the family.

My father was already helping her down when I arrived at the scene. He smiled, like it was all in fun. “Sophia, now how many times have I told you that isn’t the way you play twenty-one?”

The handful of spectators laughed. Jack Pierce, shithead that he was, always did have a way with a crowd.

My mother blinked a couple of times, as if trying to clear her vision. “There you are. I was climbing up there to get a better view of the room so I could figure out where you’d wandered off to.”

She could still speak without slurring her words. So she wasn’t as intoxicated as I’d imagined.

My mother pinned her stare on the blonde standing next to my father. “Is this the latest? I should have known. When you disappear, it’s usually with a tram—”

I stepped in before she could finish her sentence. “Mother, walk with me, will you?”

“And leave him alone with his bi—”

My father cut her off this time. “It’s okay, Hudson. Of course you won’t be leaving me, sweetheart. I’m going with you.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and began escorting her toward the exit.

While my mother has been known for false accusations, the glance he threw back at the blonde gave him away. Not to my mother—she already knew. But now I knew too that the woman at his side was not just an acquaintance. The look he gave her said he’d be back later for her. In other words, he was just putting my mother in a car before returning.

No wonder Sophia Pierce felt the need to get a little too drunk at her husband’s company party. Fucking ass**le.

I rubbed my hand across my jaw and considered whether I wanted to stay any longer myself. Though there was plenty of room for me at the penthouse where my parents lived, I’d been staying at the Plaza, so if I left, I wouldn’t have to deal with my mother. But maybe I should go to the penthouse anyway. It wasn’t the newest nanny’s job to take care of a drunken employer. And Sophia might get to keep a shred of dignity if I were the one to attend to her.

I was already at the coatroom when I’d made my decision to leave. The clerk had just handed me my coat when I found a reason to stay. Celia Werner had just walked in, hands thrust in her jacket pockets, her attire nowhere near formal.

She walked toward me. My surprise at seeing her kept me glued to my spot, my mouth slack as I looked her over. Though she wasn’t dressed for the event, she didn’t like the mess that Christina had suggested. Either Celia had cleaned up in the last couple of months or the rumors about her had been exaggerated.

I couldn’t decide if that made me happy or disappointed.

“Do you want to check your coat?” the clerk asked when Celia reached us.

She shook her head and fixed her gaze on me.

I’d had enough time now to gather my wits. “You’re too late, Celia. My father just left. But if you want to wait, I think he’s coming back. He already has a leggy blonde picked out for the evening, though. Do you mind threesomes?”

“I’m not here for Jack, ass**le.”

I tensed at the familiar use of my father’s name. “That’s too bad. No one else is going to look at you dressed like that.”

“You want to stand around and throw insults at me all night? Or can you zip it a minute so I can talk to you?”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Awesome. Then you can shut the f**k up and listen while I talk.”

I hesitated, wondering what her angle was. Then I decided I didn’t care enough to find out. “While that sounds like a whole hell of a lot of fun, Celia, I think I’ll pass.” I tipped the clerk and started out.

“Hudson.” Her tone was more commanding than was typical for her. Still, I kept walking. “Fine,” she said, running to catch up to me. “I’ll find your father then.”

That stopped me. Though they’d already been together, I detested the idea of a repeat performance. I’d rather imagine my father f**king anyone else—the blonde waiting for him in the event room, even. Just not Celia.

I’d never let on how much it bothered me, but I would try to prevent it any way I could. “What is it you want, Celia?”

Her eyes darted toward the clerk. “Not here. We need to be in private.”

“I’m not—” A noise at the door down the hall stole my attention. It was my father returning from “taking care” of my mother. He hadn’t seen us yet, so I grabbed Celia’s arm and tugged her toward the men’s room. At the door, I said, “Stay.” I went in and checked to make sure the room was empty then I pulled Celia inside.

As I locked the door behind us, there was a brief moment where I considered how different our lives could have been if it hadn’t been for my experiment that summer. How I could have been sneaking away with Celia for a bang in a stall instead of hiding her from my slut of a father. Or maybe not that. I hadn’t ever wanted that, had I?

Something different, though. Not this.

But as Thoreau said, “Never look back unless you’re planning to go that way.” And I was not going that way. Come to think of it, Celia was the one who’d told me that.

I turned back to face her. “You have three minutes. Then I’m taking you out to the curb and putting you in a cab. I’ll even give you some cash, if that’s how you’re used to getting paid.”

Her eyes blazed with the heat of my insult. “Did I mention f**k you, Hudson?”

“I don’t get off on my father’s sloppy seconds. Sorry.” I looked at my watch for effect. “And now you’re at two minutes forty-five.”

She crossed her arms and leaned back against the counter, her eyes narrow with challenge. “I’m willing to bet that I’ll have your attention for longer than that.”

Again, a glance at my watch. “Two minutes forty.”

“I knew I should have talked to Jack instead.”

She’d realized that mentioning my father was her power card. She’d laid it down several times now. Each time it worked.

But I was losing patience. This was the last time I’d ask and my tone let her know that. “What the f**k is it, Celia?”