“Goodbye Rachel.” When he turns back to look at me, the shutters are down, his eyes impersonal and so remote, I could be a stranger.
I leave him and walk into the building, going up to my apartment, where Joe has set my luggage on the floor by the door.
I give him a small smile. “Thank you, Joe. I can manage from here.”
He nods, and leaves me standing there. I let myself into the apartment, and Laurie flies into the living room as soon as I enter, running across the room to envelope me in a warm hug.
“I missed you!” she cries enthusiastically, before pulling back to look at my face. “Are you crying?” she asks with a frown.
“No, of course not,” I force a laugh. “I’m not that happy to see you.”
She sighs. “It’s him, isn’t it? What
happened?”
My voice is shaking with unshed tears, and suddenly I can’t hold them back anymore. “I don’t know. It went exactly as I planned. I have no idea why I’m so fucking sad.”
“Oh sweetie.” Laurie envelopes me in another hug. “Stop crying. Tell you what? Why don’t I get your bags inside, then I’ll make you something hot to drink, and then you can tell me all about it.”
YOU have feelings for him.
Those were Laurie’s words yesterday, after I told her everything.
I do have feelings for Landon. I’m hung up on him, strung out because of him. It wasn’t part of the plan, but somewhere along the way, the strong physical attraction I felt towards him turned to something else. Something that makes me think of little things about him and smile, even as the thought that I’ll probably never see him again leaves me close to tears.
I meet with Mark Willis in the morning, with a few other people from the features team, as well as the photography and copy people. We do a final walk-through of the article, then afterward I start the research for my next assignment, trying my best not to think about Landon.
Not that it helps. Every few moments, he creeps into my thoughts, leaving me wondering what he’s doing now, and if just maybe, he’s thinking about me too.
Probably not. More likely he’s busy acquiring another hotel and forgetting that he ever met me.
A few hours into the day, I use the office messenger service to send a package to Landon’s office at the Swanson Court Tower. It’s the jewelry he gave me in San Francisco. I’d forgotten to give them back to him before we left, and the staff had packed them with my luggage. I send them with regret, not because of their monetary value, but because he gave them to me.
I spent the rest of the morning working. At Lunchtime, Chelsea and Sonali invite me to join them so I can give them the dish about Landon Court. The office grapevine has been busy, especially since the pictures from the charity gala appeared online. They both plead and cajole, but I politely refuse, giving an excuse about having to finish up some work.
When my desk phone rings a few minutes after they leave, I answer it, and it’s the ground floor reception calling to tell me that I have a package being sent up to my office. Almost as soon as I put down the phone, the delivery guy arrives.
The package he gives me contains the box I just sent to Landon’s office. It also includes a note on Swanson Court stationery, written in Landon’s firm slanted handwriting.
Keep Them.
Just that. I stare at the words, disappointment flooding me. What had I been expecting, some heartfelt communication to show me that I still meant something to him?
Well, I’m not going to keep a gift from a guy who can’t be bothered to expend more than two words on me.
My phone rings just as I’m about to call the office messenger service again. I don’t care that I might have to come up with an explanation as to why I’m using office facilities for personal stuff. I just want to let Landon know that I don’t need his diamonds, and I won’t take orders from him.
Keep them indeed.
Too caught up in my thoughts, I slide my phone to answer without looking at the screen.
“Hello,” I say impatiently.
“Don’t even think of returning them. I’ll just send them back, and I can do this all year.”
Landon.
My heart almost stops. Somehow I had convinced myself that I would never hear his voice again, that the delicious blend of perfect timbre and raspy smoothness was lost to me forever. I luxuriate in the sound, wanting to store it somewhere so I can listen to it whenever I want.