Epilogue #4
His expression softened immediately.
“Yeah.”
Then he picked up the hardcover he had brought me.
“You still want me to read?”
“Out loud.”
“Aight, love.”
His voice filled Scoops & Stories as he began the first page.
No phone between us.
No highway beneath either one of us.
No need to call because we were already in the same room.
Halfway down the page, I smiled.
Landon stopped reading.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You smiling.”
“I like this.”
“Me reading?”
“This.”
I gestured between us.
He closed the book around one finger.
“You gon’ have to narrow that down.”
I considered it.
“My books are on your nightstand.”
“Three stacks.”
“Your coffee is in my kitchen.”
“’Cause yours tastes like dessert.”
“You have a drawer at my house.”
“You got two at mine.”
“You leave a charger in my bedroom.”
“You stole mine first.”
“You have a key.”
“So do you.”
I looked at him.
“Exactly.”
His thumb moved lazily along the ankle resting across his thigh.
For months, I had assumed the answer to distance would eventually require one of our lives becoming more convenient for the other. Crème & Chill Self Springs brought me here more often, but the store had not solved anything between us.
We had never needed solving.
“I think I finally figured something out.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“Behave.”
“I’m listening.”
I looked around the shop before returning my attention to him.
“I used to think belonging to you would eventually mean choosing where my real life was. Self Ridge or Self Springs. Now I think we just got good at belonging in both.”
Something warm moved through his expression.
“That sound right.”
“I have your coffee at my house.”
“You mentioned that.”
“You have my books.”
“Several.”
“You know my grocery store.”
“And the cashier with the attitude.”
“Ms. Ruby likes you.”
“Ms. Ruby interrogated me about my intentions while scanning avocados.”
“She likes you.”
“And you know which cabinet Mama keeps the good glasses in.”
“Because Mama Brooks told me you and Lennox aren’t allowed to touch them.”
“That woman stay disrespectful.”
I laughed.
Landon set the book beside him.
“So your place or mine tonight?”
“Yours.”
“Why?”
“You changed the sheets.”
His eyes narrowed. “How you know?”
“Because you told me this morning. Also, because you are predictably consistent.”
“Consistent.”
“Predictably consistent.”
“I can live with that.”
“And tomorrow?”
“Mine.”
“Breakfast?”
“At yours.”
“Dinner?”
“At mine.”
His grin widened. “Hershey, that sound suspiciously like a schedule.”
“It’s logistics.”
“Relationship logistics.”
“I regret telling you anything.”
“Nah. You like having somewhere to expect me.”
The truth no longer scared me.
“I do. And I like having somewhere you expect me too.”
Landon’s thumb stopped against my ankle.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He reached across the space between our chairs, took my hand, and kissed my knuckles.
“That might be my favorite thing you said all day.”
“I told you I loved you twice.”
“Different category.”
“You are impossible.”
“And yet.”
“And yet.”
He picked up the book again.
“Continue, Big Lando.”
“That nickname got entirely too comfortable.”
“So did you.”
“Good.”
One word.
Simple.
Certain.
He resumed reading.
I shifted a little closer in my chair until my shoulder rested against his, my legs still stretched across his lap while his voice carried through the first chapter.
Every few minutes, he stopped to make commentary nobody requested.
I corrected his interpretation of a character.
He accused me of defending fictional misconduct.
I stole another bite of his ice cream while he was distracted.
He caught me the second time.
“That’s theft.”
“Community property.”
“Still my pint.”
“Our freezer.”
“Your corruption has layers.”
I laughed and settled against his shoulder again.
My phone vibrated on the small table between our chairs.
Nyla.
Of course.
I opened the message.
Nyla:
Sooooooo...
I smiled.
Another appeared.
Nyla:
Malcolm says I’m mean.
Me:
You are.
Three dots appeared immediately.
Nyla:
Traitor.
Then another.
Nyla:
Also he texted me before I even made it out the parking lot.
I laughed.
Landon looked over from the book. “Coco?”
“Nyla.”
“Same woman.”
“Do not let her hear you agreeing with that nickname.”
“I enjoy living.”
My phone vibrated again.
This time her message was shorter.
Nyla:
So... worth the trip?
I looked at Landon.
He had already returned to the book, one hand holding it open while the other rested over my shin.
My legs remained comfortably across his thighs.
His keys sat on the table beside mine. My new book waited inside its leather sleeve.
His private pint rested between our chairs with two spoons inside it.
The man who had taken one wrong turn at the festival in Willow Run.
The man who kept taking the right ones afterward.
Crème & Chill Self Springs stood around us, beautiful and full and real, but it wasn’t the answer.
Neither city was.
The road had never needed to disappear for our lives to meet on both sides of it.
I typed back.
The best one I ever took.
THE END.