Landon opened his mouth to ream him, but Aiden wasn’t serious. His brother offered a crooked smile and sipped his beer. Content to bust Landon’s balls, evidently.
“Do you want her back?” Aiden asked after another permeating silence.
Landon’s face pulled into a grimace. He rubbed a hand over his jawline, the hint of growth scratching his palm. Had he been this miserable in his entire life? He didn’t think so.
“Thing is…” He didn’t know how much more he should say. He scrubbed his jaw again while he thought. A woman’s voice coming from behind him read his mind.
“You love her.” Aiden’s smart-as-a-whip-crack wife came around to sit on Aiden’s lap. His brother pulled Sadie close and buried his nose in her long, fair hair. She wrapped her arms around his neck, but her attention was focused squarely on Landon. “You love her or you wouldn’t be out here drowning your feelings in scotch.”
Landon thrust out his bottom lip and regarded his glass silently.
“Should I yell for Angel, or are you going to talk to me?” she demanded. For a petite thing, she was a pistol. Shane had warned him. Aiden shot Landon a smile, one that said he’d be glad to watch Landon go a round or two with his other half.
Landon flicked a look from her to Aiden and attempted to look wounded by her words. “Sadie, et tu?”
She only smiled. Aiden squeezed one of her thighs just below a short pair of shorts, making Landon feel like a third wheel. An incredibly inebriated third wheel, but still.
Sensing her husband’s growing impatience, or maybe Landon’s growing discomfort, she slipped from Aiden’s lap and settled onto the empty chair between him and Landon instead.
But Sadie didn’t know who she was dealing with. He was the Tin Man. Impervious to emotion. She stared him down. He stared back. Or tried to. His vision blurred in and out. Maybe she’d forget what she said if he remained silent for long enough. Landon took turns grousing at her and his half-empty glass before realizing the standoff could last until the End of Days.
“Fine,” he growled. “I love her.”
Aiden sat up in his chair, a confused-slash-concerned look on his face. Was it so unbelievable that Landon could be in love? Then he thought of how often his family had seen him with a woman. How distant he and Lissa had been when she had been around his family. He hadn’t brought another woman around before or since.
On a surrendering sigh, Landon went for broke. “I don’t want to be a part-time dad,” he said. “I want to be a father full-time. I want to be with Kimber full-time. I want…” He lifted a hand, dropped it into his lap. “I want all of her, you know?”
He tried to focus on Sadie, but she kept going out of focus. At one point there were three of her. That wasn’t good. He shoved his glass aside. He wasn’t quite pass-out-in-the-yard drunk, but he was close.
“You should tell her that, Landon.” She rested her hand over his and, for the second time tonight, tears dammed his throat.
Lovely. The drunk cry. He’d experienced that once before—the night he found out Rachel had the abortion. Ah, shit, here came the feelings from back then, too. Great.
Pile it on, Life.
“Aiden, we should go in. Let Landon have a few minutes,” Sadie said. Then to Landon, “We’ll check on you later, but you take all the time you need, okay?”
He clenched his jaw and nodded. A tear tumbled out of one eye as Aiden and Sadie turned to go inside. He heard Sadie mumble something and Angel mumble something in return. Landon sniffed, sucked it up. Sitting here and blubbering like a baby wasn’t going to solve anything. Truth was, he’d fucked up and he needed to fix it. He’d tried being compliant and look where it’d gotten him. He’d agreed his way into a corner.
He pulled the phone out of his pocket. On the third try, he successfully dialed Kimber’s number. He’d have to apologize to Kenneth Winger and Kim Schantz when he got back to the office for the drunk-dials at two a.m. Ohio time.
Predictably, Kimber’s voice mail picked up. He thought about hanging up. There was at least one sober brain cell shouting about how this wasn’t the best time to leave a message, but he ignored it.
“Kimber,” he started, his tongue tripping over her name. “Hi. It’s Landon.” He let out a mirthless laugh. Yeah. This was going well already. “I called because… well, I shouldn’t be calling. I know that. But I’ve been drinking and scotch makes me brave. Or stupid. Or a combination of brave and stupid. Anyway.” He scrubbed his eyes under his glasses. “I don’t want an arrang… a harrang… a contract with you. I want a life with you. And yes, I’ve had too much to drink, but the reason I drank is because of you. Not that it’s your fault, but I love you. That probably is your fault. You’re lovable.” He stumbled over that word, too. He licked his dry mouth and drank down another mouthful of scotch.