Back in the bedroom, Landon is on the phone. He has unbuttoned his shirt and loosened his cuffs, and there’s something potently sexy about seeing him half-dressed. It’s such a far cry from the impeccably clad man everyone else usually sees. I linger at the door just to gape at him for a few precious moments.
He catches me looking and reaches for the jug he’s brought with him on a tray. He pours water into a glass and comes over to hand it to me.
“Goodnight,” I hear him say to whoever’s on the phone, before he turns his blue gaze to me. “That was Aidan,” he explains. “He managed to get home without falling down drunk somewhere.”
He’s smiling, almost indulgently, and I sigh inwardly. How could I not love him? So young and yet, so caring. He’d been a father to his little brother, and he still was sometimes, without any kind of resentment or selfishness, because that’s the kind of man he is.
“Aidan’s lucky to have you,” I tell him, meaning every word.
His lips curve. “And I’m lucky to have you here.” He takes the empty glass from me and sets it down. “Nice t-shirt by the way. Looks very sexy on you.” He trails his fingers down my arm, making me tremble. “Can you guess what will look better?”
I frown. “What?”
“The owner,” he says, with a serious face.
I burst into laughter and he joins me. There’s something so intimate in that moment. If I weren't so sure about his aversion to commitment, I would almost be convinced that he felt something more than just the overpowering physical need that defined our relationship.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he says, shrugging out of his shirt. “Don’t fall asleep.”
“I won’t,” I assure him, watching him walk away, shirtless, the muscles of his back firm and rippling. I sigh, then go over to the nightstand to retrieve my phone from my purse. There’s a text from Laurie in my notifications.
“There was no fooling your mom, sorry. She guessed you left with Landon.
PS are you sure you know what you’re doing?
XXXX
I debate whether to reply. I’m not sure of anything except that right now, I need to be with Landon. I wonder what my mother thinks, what she would think if I told her everything. I can’t imagine her ever being as conflicted over a man as I’ve been over Landon. Men have always been easy for her. She still has my dad wrapped around her little finger after a quarter lifetime together.
I have no idea what I’m doing, I type in reply to Laurie’s message. One day, if this ends badly, she’ll probably have to nurse me through it. The thought makes me sad, and I place the phone on the bedside table and get under the covers just as Landon returns. He’s wearing only dark-blue silk pajama bottoms, his hair damp and tousled, the muscles of his chest making me want to reacquaint my fingers with every firm contour.
“Your workouts must be intense,” I quip appreciatively, unable to tear my eyes away.
Landon sees the direction of my gaze and shrugs. “I lift a few weights and do some martial arts training. When I have the time.”
“Yeah, me too.” I tease, rolling my eyes. “Totally when I have the time.” He laughs and I continue. “Brett tried to get me and Laurie interested in working out when he started the gym…” I say, giggling. “I’m just destined to be fat and unhealthy.”
“How are they?” Landon’s expression turns to concern.
I sigh. “It’s very complicated right now.”
“Emotions always get complicated.” He frowns, a faraway look creeping into his eyes. “Some people make it work, but sometimes it just ends badly.”
I wonder if he’s thinking of his parents. His mother’s love had turned to jealousy, then ended with her death. She left the man she loved wounded and unable to carry on even with being a father to his sons.
Or maybe he was trying to tell me that love was not in the cards for us.
Maybe because he can read the uncertainty in my face, he joins me under the covers, pulling me towards him so that my head is resting on his chest. I close my eyes, resolutely forgetting about everything else, and luxuriating in his warmth and closeness, the feel of his skin against mine, and the sound of his heart beating beneath my ear. I want it to always be like this.
But it won’t, that hateful inner voice makes sure to remind me.
I push the thought out of my mind. I’m going to be satisfied with taking as much happiness as I can get from being with him, for now.
I feel his hand stroke my hair. “You know I’ll give you anything you want?” he whispers in my ear. “You know that, right?”
Why does that statement make me happy and sad at the same time? “You don’t have everything,” I reply.
His chest moves. “Don’t walk away, again,” he murmurs. “Don’t.”