Chapter Nineteen
Landon and Dave were two pints in when Conor’s name flickered across the screen of Landon’s phone.
“Leave it,” Dave said. It was possible Dave was more than two pints in—Landon hadn’t so much met him as found him at the bar, pupils already wide and eyes glazed. “I want you to teach me how to play five card hold’em.”
“It’ll be Texas hold’em or five card draw,” Landon muttered. “Watch my beer?”
“I’ll watch your beer,” Dave yelled, clearly meaning to threaten Landon but pacifying him instead.
Landon took one last sip of the beer he’d dubbed the “drown your sorrows stout” and retreated from the crowded hostel bar into the night.
“Conor?” he asked, as though he had no idea why on earth his friend might be calling.
“Did I catch you at a good time?” His tone had a bite that made Landon feel awkward, like he’d been caught with one hand in the cookie jar.
“I mean, I was just hanging out with my new friend Dave—”
“Why on earth are you making friends over there?”
There was the snark Landon had been expecting. “So you’re, what, calling to talk me out of it? Is that what this is?”
Conor sighed. “I know better than to try to talk you out of anything. Honestly, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” The sun had set hours ago, and it was cold enough outside that Landon regretted not grabbing his jacket.
“Landon.” He said his name like a plea. “I’m trying very hard not to make this about me, but honestly, I’m the one who’s had a front row seat to your self-destruction this last year. You could at least cut the bullshit and admit you understand why I’m worried about you.”
Landon kicked the already scuffed front of his sneaker up against the curb hard enough that his toe jingled with pain. “I admit I understand why you’re worried about me,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Thank you. Now, can we please be serious? When are you coming home?”
“I can legally stay in the country for six months, but after that, I was thinking I would probably go somewhere in Europe while I wait for my next visa to be approved. It feels a little extravagant to fly so far only to come right back.”
“You’re joking.”
“I’m not,” Landon said. “I love her.”
“You loved her,” Conor said.
“What do you—”
“You loved Rose,” he continued, with such force that Landon took a step back. “She was the love of your goddamned life. That woman might share her name, but she is not Rose. Rose is gone, Landon. Rose is dead.”
“Don’t say that,” Landon said, rocking back on his heels. “Stop saying that.”
“I don’t know how else to get through to you,” he said. “Should I throw a funeral? I mean, for God’s sake, Landon, this has got to stop. You have to move on.”
Landon considered hanging up the phone then and there. It was well within his rights, he knew that. But Conor had seen him through so much. “A funeral won’t be necessary.”
“I shouldn’t have said that,” Conor said, frustration now laced with concern. “I’m sorry. Please, let me buy you a plane ticket home; let me—”
“You’re a good friend. I mean that. But I’m not leaving.”
“Landon, please—”
“I have to go,” Landon cut him off. “It’s poker night at the hostel, and Dave’s waiting.”
“Can you just—”
“We’ll talk soon, okay?” He ended the call, and he might have thought seriously about what Conor had said to him—or at the very least wallowed for a few lonely minutes in self-pity—but another name danced across the screen before he had a chance.
Rose.
“Hey,” Landon said. “How are you?” He felt vindicated, somehow. If Conor knew how he and Rose had already connected, he wouldn’t have said any of that. He would have left Landon alone, or called to wish him well. He certainly wouldn’t have said such hurtful, vitriolic things.
“Hey!” Rose said in return, her otherworldly cheer making the situation feel all the more surreal. Had his Rose ever shared her joy so quickly, in such an unbridled way? “I’m good! Much better.”
“You had me worried there for a second.”
“Me too, but it’s fine. I’m fine. The bleeding stopped around Princes Street Gardens, so Graham and I had a nice afternoon, actually.
The sun came out in full force, which has happened so few times since I moved here I can count it on one hand.
And I swear I saw a rainbow over the castle, but Graham didn’t, so I can’t really be sure. ”
Landon was not happy for her, but he knew Jamie would be. “I’m so glad the day wasn’t a wash. I haven’t been to the gardens, yet.”
“You haven’t been anywhere,” Rose said. “That’s why I’m calling. What are your plans tomorrow?”
Tomorrow. She once again made Landon feel as if his heart was a drum and she was holding the drumsticks. Cool, calm, breezy, he reminded himself. “I thought I might audit another class, but I haven’t made any firm decisions.”
“Great,” she said. “Meet me at the World’s End on High Street at six.”
Landon had a lot of questions. “Is this another early-morning adventure?”
“Six at night,” she clarified.
“And how do I find the end of the world?”
Rose laughed. “The World’s End. It’s a pub, and a pretty famous one. You can’t miss it.”
If Landon hadn’t known Graham was waiting in the wings, probably lounging behind her on the couch while she made the phone call, he would have entertained the notion that she was calling to ask him on a date. It thrilled him nonetheless. “I’ll be there.”
“Can’t wait,” she said, and she sounded like she meant it. “And, Jamie?”
On the heels of his phone call with Conor, it took him a beat too long to remember that he needed to respond to the name. “Yes?”
“I had a really good time with you today. When you read Moby-Dick, I mean, I’ve never felt anything like that before.”
You have, Landon wanted to tell her. But he didn’t. “We’ll have to do it again sometime, then.”
“I would like that.” He heard the smile in her voice and it smoothed a single jagged piece of him.
“Six o’clock, then,” he said.
“See you then.”
Landon thought about calling Conor back and debriefing their entire exchange, but even in his lovesick state, he knew it would not get him the results he desired.
Instead, he swung open the double doors of the hostel and walked straight back to the bar.
“Another round,” he said to the bartender, circling his empty pint glass and what looked like a half-full whisky in front of Dave. “And get your cards out.”
“I don’t have any cards,” Dave slurred.
“I’ve got you, mate,” the bartender said, tossing him a deck.
“Thank you.” Landon opened the worn pack and shuffled, elbowing Dave in the shoulder. “I’m going to teach you Texas hold’em.”
“Five crad hold’it,” Dave said, choking on the words like they were caught in his throat.
“Call it whatever you want,” Landon said. “I’m feeling lucky.”
It was the first truly dreary day Landon had experienced since he arrived.
The rain had started the night before while he’d tried and failed to teach Dave how to play even the most remedial of poker games and, as far as Landon could tell, hadn’t let up for even a moment since then.
At five o’clock, he’d decided to play it safe and grabbed the last umbrella at the pharmacy, though the cashier had warned him it was only still available for purchase because one of the ribs was bent.
She didn’t offer him a discount and Landon was too embarrassed to ask, so now all six feet three inches of him stood underneath an umbrella that only made good on three-quarters of its promise to keep him dry.
Out of an abundance of caution, he’d arrived at World’s End with twenty minutes to spare, and he was loath to go inside for fear of missing Rose’s arrival.
He glanced down at his watch, which he hadn’t changed to account for the time difference.
It was twelve fifty-five p.m. in Boston, which meant five minutes to six in Edinburgh.
Five more minutes for the clothes on the right side of his body to dampen.
Five more minutes for him to wonder whether it had all been a dream.
Seconds later, gloved hands tapped on his shoulder. “Feels kind of like the end of the world, huh?” Rose called over the wind, which had just begun to gust violently.
The beginning, Landon thought. “At least it was easy to find!” Tucked among the many shops on High Street, the pub’s exterior was bright blue, the vivid paint somehow immune to Scotland’s fierce weather.
“You hungry?”
He hadn’t had the most robust of appetites since the moment he’d been forced to sit in silence and observe her naked body, stewing in the knowledge that she was no longer his. “I’m starving.”
“Good,” she said. “I’d kill for a burger.”
The thought made him smile. His Rose had gone vegetarian years ago.
It was her way of asserting some semblance of control over an uncontrollable climate, to cut back on her personal carbon emissions.
Landon had thought better than to question her, even as he wholeheartedly believed they were all too far gone for one woman to make a difference.
It made him feel better to know that the pill had taken so much, but it had at least given her license to enjoy more freely.
He followed her out of the cold and into the cozy, low-ceilinged pub, the warmth beaming all the way down to his shoes.
A few people just in from the cold huddled together in the entrance, while twosomes and singles sat along a compact mahogany bar lined with rows of whisky.
“Table for two?” the hostess chimed.
“Something near the back?” Rose asked. “It’s quieter near the back,” she said, for Landon’s benefit.
“This way.” The hostess picked up two menus and led them out of the bustle. Landon clocked the other patrons who’d sought the same atmosphere: a couple, drinks untouched, sitting in what appeared to be barely restrained tension, and a man in a wool coat on a date with a Moleskine notebook.
“Perfect,” Rose said. “Thank you.” The hostess left them, and Rose leaned over the candle flickering between them on the wooden table. “I feel like I can slip in and out of time here,” she said. “It’s part of the allure.”