Chapter 19
TURNED TO MUSH BY A SMILE
“Mom, Lane, I have a few big things to tell you.”
Lane takes a bite of her cereal, not bothering to look at the phone when she guesses, “You got knocked up by the bull rider dude you’re filming.”
“Bull rider?” Landry mouths.
“He’s a bronc rider, Lane,” I correct, and now she looks up, glaring at me through the phone.
“You said bull rider. Mom, she said bull rider, right?" My sister is always trying to make me look just a little bad because that’s what little—and big—sisters are about. I flop down on Landry’s bed, tipping my head against the headboard, and sigh.
“Listen,” I say, adjusting the grip on the phone so that I don’t accidentally lock the screen.
“I was wrong about that. I didn’t read the email clearly and…
I didn’t know there was more than just bull riding at a rodeo. ”
Landry clears his throat so loudly that the walls rattle, and I cut him a sympathetic glance, mouthing the words “I’m sorry” as he glares.
“Anyway, he’s a bronc rider and—”
Mom appears in the frame. “Who’d you just mouth I’m sorry to?”
It occurs to me as Landry shoves his way onto the bed, poking his head into the frame, that calling her on video would have been better in any other room than this one. “Is that— Oh, it is,” Mom says, her voice softening as Landry lifts a massive hand to say hello.
“Mom, this is the star of The Comeback Rider, Landry Vaughn.” I introduce Landry to her, then turn and face him. “Landry, this is my mom, Diane Farley, and my sister, Lane Farley.” I look at the screen, where my mom’s face hogs most of the camera. “Mom, sit back so Landry can see Lane.”
“Oh, my goodness, excuse me,” she says, sitting back, her mug of coffee between her hands.
Lane looks up and does a double take, her eyes sticking to Landry on the second pass. “Holy shit.”
Mom nudges her with an angry elbow only moms can throw and not look mean doing. “Lane,” she scolds.
“Hi,” Lane says. “I’m Lane.”
“Hi there, Lane,” Landry greets, his deep voice and Southern drawl setting off the usual flare of desire in my groin. Lane’s cheeks get pink, and she smiles. “And hello, Ms. Farley. It’s very nice to meet you both.”
I’m really ready to hard launch the whole situation, skip the preamble and small talk, but Landry does something I never expected.
He starts chatting with my mom. He asks her what she does for a living, what her hobbies are, how long she’s lived in San Francisco, if she enjoys traveling, and what her favorite animal is.
She laughs at that, and he laughs in response, saying, “When you own a ranch and live in Texas, asking someone what their favorite animal is, I think, probably a lot like asking people over where you are what their favorite fancy coffee is.”
Mom agrees, and I can tell that in a matter of minutes Landry has them charmed.
Only, he isn’t trying to charm them or win them over, he’s just conversing, the way he does with me after a long day working and training when we’re alone on the porch.
This is the personal, intimate side of him, and it makes me emotional to see him so freely give that part of himself to my family.
Because they’re important to me, and therefore important to him.
After some of their chatter comes to a slow, I take the opportunity to break the news. “Mom, there’s something I need to tell you.” I turn to Landry. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable at all, so—”
He stops me by shaking his head. “I’m okay. You tell ‘em everything.” The truth, that’s what he means. I nod, and focus on my mom and sister.
Off camera, he slides his hand into mine and squeezes. My heart swells behind my ribs, and then, with his free hand, he takes the phone, holding it out on my behalf. If holding the phone during a video call isn’t modern-day hot, I don’t know what is.
“Remember what I told you about Landry? From the email? He’s a former pro coming back to reclaim his title after six years out of the circuit.”
Mom claps. “Yes, that’s so exciting.”
Landry just smiles, and I continue.
My neck heats, and I hate talking about this in this way, but Mom’s got a full life and I hardly expect her to remember something I said in passing weeks back. “Remember, Landry lost his wife some six years back, and ever since then, her folks have been trying to get custody of his daughter Sadie.”
Mom shakes her head, completely ignoring the mug of hot coffee between her hands. Lane even shakes her head. “That’s messed up. She’s your daughter,” Lane adds.
“They believe that because you’re single you can’t raise a little girl? Well, that’s just ridiculous, Landry. There are single fathers everywhere. That’s just asinine, truly. I’m so sorry you’re dealing with that.”
I swallow. “They delivered him papers. They’re moving for custody unless he can prove to a judge that he’s a fit father. And the rodeo and the film is to help his case. Prove to the judge that he’s living and can provide a wonderful life for his girl.”
Landry’s head drops on camera, and I turn in real life to face him, using my hand not holding his to tenderly touch his cheek and lift his face back up. I hate the way he physically reacts to the painful situation bestowed upon him, and I hate that the Montgomerys are doing this.
I don’t realize at the moment that what I’m doing isn’t something a filmmaker does to her subject, and when my eyes make it back to the screen, Mom and Lane are watching me with their mouths open.
“One of the things he needed to prove that he’s fit to keep Sadie is…
a partner. More familial stability, we think.
” I swallow again, finding thick discomfort wedged in my throat, keeping the rest of the news separate.
But I have to come clean. I hate that they don’t know, as much as I hate that I did it without them.
“I agreed that I would marry Landry for a short period of time and pretend to be his wife while I make this film, show a judge how well he’s getting on with life, and once the suit is dropped, we’d annul and move on. ”
I think of the arrangement I made with Landry a couple weeks ago, what I’d get out of this—his cock—and find myself nervously adding, “And of course, in exchange for temporarily marrying him, I get more access. The sessions he hadn’t planned for me to film, some moments at the house— the stuff that takes a documentary from good to incredible. ”
“You got married?” Mom cuts Lane a glance and she gets up, wincing to the camera before disappearing. “Quinn, and no offense to you, Landry, sweetheart, but, Quinn, you got married? Did you even look into if this marriage can be annulled? Some states don’t—”
“I looked it up. I did my research before I agreed.”
Mom is quiet, and Landry rests the phone against the foot of the bed, takes his hat off, and clears his throat.
“Ma’am, I just want to tell you that your daughter is the kindest, most generous, sweet woman, and I know it sounds scary, marriage and all, but I promise, as soon as that judge tells me I don’t have to worry ’bout losing my girl, I’ll set yours free. ”
He squeezes my hand, and my heart hurts at hearing him verbalize the plan I was already fully aware of, but I smile at the screen, at my mom.
“You raised one helluva woman, Diane, and she’s really saving me in a way no one else could.
My daughter means the world to me, and I’ll be in debt to yours because of this… forever.”
Mom likes this answer, and she likes it because it’s so real, just like Landry.
Not laced with bullshit, not telling her what she wants to hear, but the truth, even if it’s a little ugly.
Mom asks details about Sadie, and we talk about her for the next fifteen minutes before Lane needs a ride and they have to go.
When we end the call, I wrap my arms around Landry’s neck, and thank him. “You made it okay. I was so worried, I was so stressed, but you made everything okay.” I press my lips to his, and kiss him, no tongue, no heavy breathing, just a simple kiss to show my gratitude. “Thank you.”
He just smiles.
When Sadie gets home, she follows me all day.
Doing interviews with the younger bronc riders at the arena in town, she sits next to me silently while Landry and Tate practice chute procedures with Landry fully dressed in all his gear.
She sits in my lap at dinner when I make the green salad, and she begs for me to put her to bed, which I do.
I want more than anything to go to Landry’s room tonight, because it feels like that’s where I’m meant to be.
But his words echo in my mind, the truthful, planned words he spoke to my mom. They shouldn’t hurt me, but somehow, those words rest heavily on my heart when I walk past his room to mine and open the door.
“As soon as that judge tells me I don’t have to worry ’bout losing my girl, I’ll set yours free.”
I replay those words in my head as I shower and put pajamas on.
I replay them as I lotion my shoulders, red from the aggressive Texas sun.
I replay those words when I spot the bouquet of wildflowers he picked and left for me in my room.
And I replay those words when I read the note attached to them.
Thank you for everything you’ve done and are doing for me and Sadie. I appreciate you. —Landry
I twist the lock on my door, turn out the light, and at half past eight, I go to sleep in the guest room, because I am merely a guest.
It would serve me to remember that.