“I’ll kick him out.”
“My father says the same thing.”
“Then Eddie and I will do it together. It would give me great satisfaction. Rana, I don’t want you living with a fucking nutjob anymore. I feel even more protective of you since we’ve spent this time together. It’s ten times stronger now. And it makes me feel helpless that I’m going to be so far away from you.”
“I’ll figure something out, okay? Maybe I’ll start looking for another place. I need to do it carefully.”
“You’re crazy, girl.”
Reaching across the table for his hand, I winked. “You love my crazy.”
“I do.” He took my hand to his mouth and kissed it. “I really do, Rana.”
His protective nature was a huge turn-on—among other things. It was hard to believe that I’d likely be going back to Michigan without knowing what it was like to make love to this man. I appreciated how careful he was being, but I was seriously dying for more with him. I was afraid of what his answer would have been if I begged him outright to fuck me tonight. Too terrified of the rejection, and pretty sure he would be vehemently against us taking that step given my leaving tomorrow, I decided to keep my feelings on that to myself.
We ended up having a really laid-back dinner. We reminisced and also started thinking about where he’d take me during my next trip out west. Insisting I indulge one last time during this vacation, Landon ordered me the chocolate pistachio torte for dessert. The meal was perfect. Everything was perfect. That had to mean something bad was going to happen.
Sure enough, the mood was about to change dramatically.
At one point during dinner, we were interrupted when a woman approached our table.
“Landon. I haven’t seen you in ages.”
The muscles in my body tightened as an uncharacteristic look of fear flashed across his face.
He looked extremely uncomfortable and simply said, “I know.”
The blonde woman was tall, about five foot nine and looked to be in her late thirties. With high cheekbones and a symmetrical face, she was attractive enough to make me uneasy—especially with the way she was looking at him, as if he were a piece of meat she wanted to sink her teeth into.
Catching a whiff of her perfume, I was pretty sure it was Quelques Fleurs, the same brand my mother used to steal from the mall. That made me despise this person even more.
With an icy stare, she looked at me. “Hello, I’m Carys.”
Her name sounded like Paris with a C. I didn’t answer her, because it didn’t seem like Landon would’ve wanted me to. I felt like a cat ready to hiss.
Something was off.
Turning to him, she grinned. “I’ve tried to get in touch with you over the years, but your number is out of service.”
His body went rigid. He wasn’t looking at her when he said, “That’s right.” If looks could kill, she would have been dead.
Carys wasn’t getting the hint. “Are you still around?”
He raised his voice. “No.”
“Can I convince you to reconsider? I’ll leave you with my new numb—”
“Please, leave,” he insisted. “This is disrespectful.”
I’d never seen Landon looking so angry yet vulnerable.
What the hell is going on?
“Oh, well.” Addressing me, she shrugged. “Enjoy him while you can, I guess. Before he changes his number on you.”
Then, she just walked away, leaving the lingering scent of Quelques Fleurs in her wake. Her small ass wiggled against the fabric of her white capris. Feeling like my insides had been twisted, I kept watching her until she disappeared.
He placed his fingers on his temples. His shoulders were rising and falling with each breath, and he wouldn’t even look at me. He looked utterly gutted.
“Landon, please, talk to me. What was that all about? Who is that woman?”
When he lifted his face to meet mine, the fear was written all over it. “I can’t lie to you.” He shook his head. “I’ll never lie to you.”
“Please. What’s going on?”
He threw his cloth napkin down on the table. “Let’s go home, okay?”
The wait for the server to bring our bill and process his credit card was excruciating. Landon was bouncing his knees up and down while he continued to breathe in and out heavily.
Finally in the car, I watched him fumble with his keys before starting the engine. Unaware of what was really happening, I sort of froze, at a loss for words. Feeling cold, I rubbed my arms as he sped away.
Neither of us said a single word during the entire ride back to his place. Night Swimming by R.E.M. was playing low on the radio, and I somehow knew that song would forever have a negative connotation in my mind.
Landon rolled down the window and reached for his cigarettes in the center compartment. He quickly lit one up, sucking the smoke in deeply and blowing it out. He never smoked in the car; he only ever did it outside and away from me. I didn’t even question why he was smoking in that moment because my instinct told me he needed it more than anything.
His utter silence left me with a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach, because even though he wasn’t saying anything, I could feel that he was gearing up for something big. I could somehow recognize that he was in the middle of an internal conversation. A million thoughts were going through my mind as well.
When he finally parked in front of his place, he turned the car off and took my hand, caressing it with his thumb before lifting it to his mouth for a kiss. Letting out a deep breath, he finally exited the car.
My heart was pounding as I followed him into the house.
He stopped in the middle of his living room with his back facing me. I came up behind him and looped my arms through his, resting my cheek on his back. Placing one of my hands on his heart, I could feel his nerves beating through it.
We stayed like that for a while until he suddenly turned around and took me by the hand to join him on the couch.
He just started talking.
“I was really messed up for the first few years after I moved out here. I managed to rent a bedroom in this place off Sunset and started waiting tables, but I was basically living aimlessly for several months. It took me a while to build up the courage to start really looking for Beverly. And you already know how that story ended.”
“Yeah…”
“Anyway, when I finally met her sister—my aunt, Miranda—she gave me a lot of information about my mother. She told me there was this movie director named Bud Holliday. Apparently, before he became successful, he and my mother dated, and he was the one who got her hooked on heroin. He ditched her when she started to really lose her way. He’d been sort of acting like her manager before that. He really did nothing for her, except ruin her life. Anyway, years later, he ended up actually directing some films and became a pretty big deal.”
“What does this have to do with that woman in the restaurant?”
He closed his eyes momentarily. “I need to tell this story from the beginning, okay? Bear with me.”
“Alright.”
“Around the time I turned twenty-two, I had gotten a job working as a waiter for a company that catered to the rich and famous. One of my assignments was to work a private party in Beverly Hills. It was at Bud Holliday’s house.”
I gasped. “Oh, my God.”
Landon suddenly got up and headed toward the kitchen.
“Where are you going?”
“Getting you a drink. You’re gonna need it. Getting myself one, too.”
He returned with two cold bottles of Miller Lite and handed me one.
“Thank you.” I chugged some of it down, coughing from the rush of cold liquid barreling down my throat.
Landon took a long sip and placed the bottle on the coffee table before continuing his story. “So, obviously, as you can imagine, I was kind of freaking out that I was going to be in the house of the man who I basically considered the catalyst for my birth mother’s drug problem. I was filled with anger. I didn’t know whether I wanted to physically harm him, give him food poisoning, or what. I just knew that I couldn’t waste the opportunity to fuck him up in some way. It felt like fate brought me to that house.”