Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The month after Peter left was harder than Landry had ever imagined.
She had known she would miss him. Had braced herself for the quiet ache that would settle in her chest. But she hadn’t expected this constant, inescapable sense of his absence.
Everything around her felt like an echo of what had been. His pillow on her bed still held the faint scent of his shampoo, and though she’d washed the rest of the sheets, she’d left that pillowcase untouched. A foolish, heart-clutching attempt to hold on to a piece of him.
At work, every time the bell over the door jingled, her head would snap up, her pulse giving a traitorous leap—only for reality to crash down when it wasn’t him.
She ran into Sophie at yoga, and when Sophie casually brought up the ballgame they’d gone to, the memories hit like a punch to the ribs.
She could still picture Peter standing beside her, laughing, shouting at the umpire’s bad call.
His arm warm against hers. The way he had looked at her when he’d thought she wasn’t watching.
Landry had barely held it together long enough to finish the class.
She needed a distraction—something, anything to pull her out of the sadness that had wrapped itself around her like a second skin.
Dinner with her parents was a start. It had to be.
After work, she changed into a pretty summer dress, forcing herself to care about the details—a swipe of blush, a touch of gloss, a spritz of perfume at her wrists. It wasn’t just about looking nice. It was about convincing them—convincing herself—that she was okay.
Because they had noticed. Of course they had.
Her mother’s worried glances. The unspoken questions in her father’s eyes.
They wanted her to be happy. She wanted that, too.
So tonight, she would smile, she would talk, she would pretend—if only for a little while—that she wasn’t missing Peter so badly it hurt to breathe.
“Landry, sweetie.” Her mother’s hug when she stepped through the front door comforted and soothed her. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
“Thanks for asking.”
Her mother held her out at arm’s length and nodded approval. “You look so pretty this evening.”
“I was in the mood to dress up a bit.”
“I know it was hard for you to let Peter go, but things will improve. In time, you’ll see that it was for the best.”
“For the best?” Landry froze in midstep, watching as her mother continued toward the kitchen. Her tone had been casual—too casual—like she hadn’t just dropped a bomb in passing.
Her mother barely spared her a glance. “He isn’t the man for you, is he? I mean, flying all over the world, never settling in one place for long.”
A sharp pang shot through Landry’s chest.
“He’s flying all over the world doing research,” she corrected, her voice cool.
Her mother shrugged, opening a cabinet to retrieve serving plates. “Yes, but he’s not like us.”
Not like us. Landry’s nails bit into her palms. What was that supposed to mean?
“I thought you liked him.”
Her mother sighed, setting the plates down with a soft clatter.
“I’m not saying anything against him, honey.
He seems like a very nice man.” A pause then, her gaze soft but probing.
“But he’s gone now, and you need to move on.
You made the right choice in not going with him.
Trust me, your…infatuation will be a distant memory in a few weeks. ”
Infatuation.
The word landed like a slap.
“Infatuation?” It burst from Landry’s lips, her tone incredulous, her pulse hammering in her ears. “Is that what you think it is?”
Her mother gave her a knowing look. “Well, he did leave without you. Without any promise of returning.”
“Mom.” Landry scrubbed a hand over her face, frustration clawing at her ribs. “You don’t—”
“Oh, honey, you’ll mess up your makeup if you rub your face like that.”
“What does it matter?”
Her mother hesitated, a flicker of guilt passing over her face. And that’s when Landry knew.
Her stomach clenched. Something was off.
“Well, we have a guest.” Her mother’s voice was too light, her hands fluttering like trapped birds. “Your dad, ah… He invited Chad to join us.”
Landry’s breath stalled.
“He thought seeing an old friend might cheer you up.”
The moment her mother pushed open the back door to the patio, Landry’s stomach dropped.
There he was.
Chad.
Chatting easily with her father next to the grill, looking perfectly at home, like he belonged here.
Landry barely registered the bouquet of flowers he held as he turned toward her, his blue eyes bright with confidence.
“Hello, Landry. I hope it’s okay that I came for dinner.”
She swallowed against the sharp anger rising in her throat, forcing her expression into something neutral.
“Hello, Chad.” Her voice was calm. Measured. “My parents have the right to invite whoever they choose to dinner, so in that respect, of course it’s okay that you came.”
His broad smile widened as he extended the flowers.
“I assume those are for my mom?”
Her mother let out a nervous laugh as if Landry had made a joke. “No, silly, they’re for you.”
A cold weight settled in her chest.
“Well, then, that’s not okay.”
The tension in the air thickened.
“I don’t want flowers from you, Chad.” Landry’s voice was unapologetic, firm. “I’ve told you repeatedly that we are over. I’m sorry if my parents are misleading you, making you believe you’ve still got a chance, but you don’t.”
Silence.
A muscle in Chad’s jaw ticked.
“Landry…” Her father’s voice was sharp. “You’re being rude.”
She turned to him slowly, pulse thudding, fury burning low in her stomach.
“No,” she said evenly. “You and Mom are being rude.”
Her father’s expression hardened.
“It’s rude to toy with Chad’s feelings the way you are when I’ve made my decision clear. It’s rude to ignore my feelings and try to force me into a relationship you know I don’t want. You are my parents, but I am not a child.”
A charged silence fell over the patio.
“Don’t be disrespectful to your parents,” Chad interjected, his voice taking on a familiar, condescending edge. “They—”
Landry turned on him, her voice cutting like steel. “No. I will not be disrespected.”
Chad’s mouth snapped shut.
“My relationship with my parents has nothing to do with you.” Her tone was measured but steely. “Have I ever admonished you for not patching things up with your own family? No. But you never offered me the same respect.”
Her gaze shifted back to her father. “And, Dad, you talk about respect, but what you really mean is ‘obedience.’ You say you care about me, but you only care as long as I do what you say.”
Her mother flinched.
“I’m not going to be controlled. Not by you. Not by Mom. Not by Chad.” She exhaled, the weight finally lifting from her chest. “This is my life, and I will do what is right for me.”
Then, with one last look at the stunned faces before her, Landry turned and walked out.
She didn’t look back.
Once she got home, Landry drifted her fingers over the unopened envelope on her kitchen counter, the latest letter from Peter. It had arrived like clockwork, like a tether still holding them together across the miles.
Yesterday, she hadn’t been ready to read it.
But now, after tonight, after standing up for herself in a way she never had before, she needed to read his words.
Taking a slow breath, she picked up the letter, her pulse quickening as she broke the seal.My dearest Landry,
I’ve been thinking about you constantly, imagining how much you’d love it here.
This region has a beauty and charm that begs to be shared.
If you were here, we could spend our days hiking through rolling hills, cycling down winding paths and exploring ancient castles and art-filled museums. Evenings would be for savoring local specialties like moules-frites, and you could try Picon Bière, a beer cocktail with orange bitters I had last night.
It was unexpectedly delightful—like so many things here that I wish I could share with you.
Lately, I’ve found myself thinking about Caroline and George. Their story, their loss and all the hopes and dreams left unfulfilled weigh heavily on my mind. It’s made me realize how fragile and precious time is—and how important it is to hold on tightly to the things that truly matter.
I’ve come to realize that Caroline’s legacy wasn’t just in the buildings she designed or the places where she left her mark—it was in the way she lived unapologetically, embracing every city, every moment, as if it were home.
She didn’t wait for life to happen; she stepped into it fully, bringing her whole self wherever she went.
That kind of authenticity—the courage to be exactly who you are, no matter where you are—is something I admire deeply. And it makes me think of you. You have that same fire, that same refusal to be anyone but yourself.
Tears stung the backs of Landry’s eyes, blurring the familiar handwriting before her.
Peter’s words wrapped around her like a steady, undeniable force—pulling, urging, whispering of possibilities too strong to ignore.
Caroline had lived boldly, authentically, without hesitation.
And Landry realized, with startling clarity, that she wanted the same for herself.
No more waiting. No more hesitating.
A breath shuddered from her chest as she reached for the stationery box on her nightstand. Pulling out a crisp sheet of pink paper, she smoothed it against the desk with trembling fingers. This letter would change everything.
She picked up her pen and, with a heart thrumming in anticipation, began to write.