Chapter 35 #2
I gave her a lazy smile, leaned in, and kissed her chin. “Don’t worry, Mima. This heart of mine is still beating.”
Just not solely for the attention of men.
After dinner, I arrived at my apartment building with a desperate need for a bottle of wine and a bubble bath soak. After leaving the battlefield of love at Mima’s, I always ended up needing to decompress. It began raining after I left, and of course there was no umbrella to be found in my car.
As I hopped out of my car, I grabbed my purse and keys, then held my coat over my head as the rain hammered down on me.
I hopped from puddle to puddle, getting soaked as my body became chilled from the deluge.
As I rounded the corner of the building toward the front steps, I paused for a moment when I saw a poor man sitting there, getting soaked from head to toe with his head bent down as he tried to shield himself from the rain with his hands.
A terrible attempt at a shield, if I did say so myself.
His blond hair lay plastered to his forehead as he shivered in the cold.
He looked . . . pathetic.
Pathetically rich, that is.
I looked to his feet and saw designer Gucci shoes. Holding his pants in place was a sparkle of gold from his matching Gucci belt.
“Did you get locked out?” I asked, feeling bad for the well-dressed schmuck who was probably seconds away from catching pneumonia. “Or do you need me to knock on someone’s apartment door once I get inside? Our buzzing machine has been on the fritz all week long and—”
My words died away as the strange, soaking-wet man lifted his head to look at me. The world became dizzying as those eyes locked with mine.
Those eyes.
Those devilishly delicious blue eyes.
My heartbeats came to a crashing halt as I stared into the eyes of the first and only man I’d ever loved.
Landon.
What is he doing here? Why is he here? How does he even know where here is?
Every inch of me began to shake—not from the harsh rainfall but from his presence. My lips parted, but no words fell from my tongue.
Why did I feel sick? Why did I want to run? Why couldn’t I stop my heart from losing its mind? After all the years that had passed, after all the work I’d done to break free of that man existing in my mind, he still somehow controlled my heartbeats.
What’s happening right now?
He stood to his feet and stuffed his hands into his obviously tailored pants, which were sticking to his thighs like stockings.
His lips parted and his voice shook as only two words fell from his lips: “Hey, Chick.”
Hey, Chick.
That was me—at least the me I used to be whenever he was near. I was his Chick, he was my Satan, and we used to be so hopelessly in love with one another.
Him saying those words felt like a light switch being turned on.
Just like that, I was sent back in time.
I was seventeen again and completely confused about every facet of my life.
I remembered the first time we kissed. I remembered the first time we’d made love.
I remembered the way our bodies entwined.
I remembered it all, and it came rushing back to me, knocking the air from my lungs.
I spoke the only word I could muster as I wiped the raindrops from my face: “No.”
* * *
No.
No, no, no, no.
That was the only word I managed to say to Landon as he stood there on the outside steps of the entryway. I walked right past him and into my apartment.
My heart sat in my throat after the very short-lived interaction.
My mind was still spinning from the idea that he’d been sitting on those steps in the pouring rain.
How long had he sat there waiting before I arrived, and why did I feel like my sweet, sweet friend Raine had something to do with him learning where I lived?
Me: You are officially on my shit list.
Raine: I was waiting for this text message to come through, but you can’t blame it on me. I’m hormonal and eight months pregnant. When Landon asked about you, I couldn’t control my tongue.
Not shocking. Raine had never been able to control her tongue. Ever since we were kids, she’d been sticking her nose in other people’s business. One of her most-used phrases was “I don’t want to get involved, but—”
I knew her and Hank had kept in touch with Landon throughout the years, but Raine hardly ever brought him up because she knew how hard it was for me. I supposed she didn’t think it would be a big deal to, oh, I don’t know, give him my address so he could stalk me a little bit on a rainy Sunday.
Raine: Forgive me, please.
Me: No
Raine: If it makes it any better, you should know that I peed myself in line at the grocery store today after I bent over to pick up a Snickers bar. That’s right. I pissed myself in the checkout line, and then I broke down into tears, causing even more of a scene. Have pity on your awful friend.
I smiled at the text message. Oddly enough, that did make me feel a little better.
Raine: Let me make it up to you—brunch next Sunday, on me. Endless mimosas for you, and I’ll just have to sit and watch you drink my favorite drink in the world. I’ll allow you to get shit-faced as I try not to wet myself in another public place.
Me: Deal.
I hurried into my bedroom and began running a bath, one I was planning on staying in until the water ran cold and my fingers turned into prunes.
My phone dinged once more.
Raine: But he looked good, right? I thought he looked so good. Healthy. Happy.
Me: I’m deleting your number until Sunday, and I fully expect you to name your child after me after this incident.
Raine: But I’m having a boy.
Me: Make him suffer the way you’ve made me suffer.
I climbed into the steaming-hot pool of water with a bottle of red wine, because when your celebrity ex-boyfriend showed up to your door after a decade of silence, one had no need for a wineglass. Straight from the bottle it was.
After a few very large chugs from the bottle, I set it down on the tiled bathroom floor. I leaned back in the tub and tried my best to shake the thought of Landon away, but it seemed almost impossible to do so.
Because Raine wasn’t wrong—Landon did look good. Too good. Sure, in the moment he hadn’t looked like the happiest guy in the world, sitting in the rain, but he had looked healthy. Sigh. And handsome. He looked so painfully handsome standing there, dripping wet, with me on his mind.
What I hated most about him was how he aged so well, like the finest of wines.
I’d wished he had gone from a swan to an ugly duckling over time, but alas, Landon was beautiful.
I hadn’t known men could be beautiful until I watched him grow up from a young preteen with acne to the striking adult he’d become.
He became so damn handsome it was nauseating.
Once when Eleanor and I were watching Hallmark Christmas movies in July, we looked up the most expensive bottles of wine in the world, and dammit if Landon wasn’t a 2010 Barolo Monfortino Riserva Conterno.
I was truly hoping he’d become a $2.99 gas station bottle of Moscato.
It wasn’t one characteristic that made him beautiful, either. It was every single thing. He had so many well-defined facial features, from his bright blue eyes to the carved-out dimples in his cheeks, his chiseled jawline, and his lips.
Oh, those full, kissable lips.
Landon’s skin glowed, too, even when it was dripping from the rain. When we were kids, the sun used to attack him and turn him into a ripe tomato, but nowadays, Landon seemed more sun-kissed than burned. He had a coppery tone to him that probably made millions of women go mad.
I still wasn’t sure what he had been looking for when he came to my door that night. A reunion? A flash of emotion pouring out of one another? Me telling him I’d never stopped loving him after all this time?
I didn’t give him any of what he’d wanted—not my time or my attention. I gave him nothing because nothing was what he deserved. I was no longer the girl who waited around for guys to make time for me to fit into their lives.
I was too old for games, and I refused to allow Landon Harrison to play me again.
* * *
The next few nights, I became a recluse, working on my manuscripts.
When I felt extra stressed, I went into artist mode and stayed in my writing cave.
Truth was, the writing cave was an excuse for me to skip out on reality for a short period of time.
Reality felt heavy as of late. I was in my thirties and still working at the same coffee shop where I’d been for years now, seeing no growth in my career.
All I seemed to receive were rejection letters time and time again.
I was beginning to feel as if my dreams were simply that—make-believe.
It was hard not to feel like a failure with every passing year.
On top of that, Landon kept crossing my mind like a bad habit. I felt intoxicated by the memory of him standing in the pouring rain on those steps. I couldn’t shake it away no matter how hard I tried, and I really, really tried.
As I reached my car to leave for yet another morning shift at the good ole coffee shop, my phone dinged with a message from Eleanor.
Eleanor: Just a heads-up, I think Landon is bringing a woman tonight. Maybe reconsider having mystery man on your arm?
Oh, grand. Casper the Friendly Ghost and I were already planning our outfits for the party.