Page 36 of The Games We Play

“Hudson.” Ember’s voice pulls me back into the moment.

Running into Seamus here was even better than I imagined. Even though his stoic face is mostly unreadable, I can tell I’ve hit a nerve. Or maybe it’s the fact that the guy who helped him move in is walking up right behind him.

Seamus is clearly frustrated, which again is a shock considering reading him is like reading a brick wall. I’m trying to figure out if it’s by my presence, the other guy, or if that’s really just Seamus nowadays.

The Seamus I knew was not nearly as grumpy or obscure, and I find that raising my curiosity more than my own concern about him being here.

Since my date with Jeremy that night—when Seamus showed up again out of the blue and I found out he bought the house next door—I’ve had more than enough time to think. Plus, a couple of last minute sessions with my therapist has helped me see this as an opportunity to heal.

I didn’t go through a decade of therapy, years of practicing spiritual discipline—both on and off my mat—to allow the pain and suffering of what happened to consume me.

And he didn’t come back into my life by chance. I don’t believe in that.

Somehow, we found each other again and he made a point to make his presence not only known, but a permanent fixture.

I wasn’t done loving you yet, and I’m here to prove it.

Do I believe that? I’m not sure. I’ve had too many years of telling myself otherwise to accept it that easily, but after the last few days of pondering everything, I am willing to listen.

At least I’m going to try.

Ember, and the man who I can only assume is her husband, pull out of an embrace. Well, Ember does. Hudson has his arms wrapped around her, holding her body to his like he’ll never have the chance to do it again.

Her face is flushed while she sneaks a glance in our direction. She looks shy and embarrassed, which is a far stretch from the woman that just interviewed me about her sex club while we talked about naked yoga and tantric massage.

She told me all about how Afterburn was birthed into reality. A small idea from the X-Connect website that led the CEO of Ford Enterprises assigning her the great task of making this club a reality.

Her ambition was easy to see, and she holds a passion that I could relate to the moment we met. Although she holds a high end corporate position at Ford Enterprises, and oversees more things than I can even imagine, she remains to be a huge part of the decision making processes and day-to-day workings of the club. And, shelovesthis club. You can tell by the way she speaks about it and how much she supports the exploration of all things in sexuality.

So, naturally, she loved the proposal I had about bringing yoga into the mix. We both love the sensuality of the human body and the openness of that display. This is just another way to bring that to the masses.

“Hudson, this is Naomi. Naomi, this is my husband, Hudson,” Ember introduces us.

Hudson forces his gaze away from his wife and his mile-wide smile drops when he sees my face. His eyes bounce between Seamus and I while his faded smile fights to return.

If reading Seamus is like reading hieroglyphics, reading Hudson is like crayon on construction paper.

Hudson’s suspicions are on full display, and he’s more than holding back giving Seamus shit about it.

“Great to see you again,” I reply with a smile.

“You too.” You can hear the knowing smirk in his tone.

“Wait, you know each other, too?” Ember’s tone is laced with confusion.

“I met Hudson the day Seamus moved in next door to me.” I stare at Seamus, his face completely unamused, unlike mine.

“Wow. What a small world,” Ember says with surprise. “I think you might already know everyone in my circle of friends.”

“No, she does not.” Another voice rings out from behind me. I turn to see a leaner, and slightly tanner, Clark Kent look alike wearing a suit and black rimmed glasses with pure perfection.

“Cruz, you’re late,” Ember sings songs playfully.

“Better to be late than arrive ugly.” He fiddles with his glasses before he holds his hand out to me. “I’m Cruz.”

“Naomi.” I slide my hand into his with a giggle.

Hudson pats Seamus on the back in some internal bro-code. I can’t tell if he’s giving him shit or trying to console him silently. Either way, I’m completely amused and Seamus is obviously suffering from crowd anxiety.

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