“Fine,” I say, raising my hands. “I’m not qualified to analyze you, but I think you should see someone else. I know you’ve had therapy, but remember what you told me in Newport, about how you thought, how you felt it was your fault… You said you’d never told anyone about that. Maybe…”
“Nothing…” Landon interrupts. “Maybe nothing.” His voice is suddenly hard and impatient. “This is me,” he mutters. “There is no guarantee that anything will ever be different. I try to be in control, but sometimes, especially when I’m with you, I get comfortable, and I forget to manage the memories I’ve carried around for more than half my life. But this is me, Rachel. My memories will probably haunt my dreams forever, and if that’s the reason why…” he stops.
“Why I haven’t said I’ll move in with you?” I shake my head. “You know it’s not.”
“Why don’t you go back to sleep,” he says gently. “I’m going to try to get some work done.”
I watch him leave. Not sure what to think. On one hand, I understand that he’d had to build his own defenses against the horror of watching his mother die, and that unraveling those defenses now would go against the steely control he has grown used to. But I can’t continue to watch him come apart every night and not feel that we should at least look for a solution.
I sigh and lie back on the pillow, not bothering to try to go back to sleep. I’m still awake when Landon returns and starts to prepare for work, and I join him, both of us quiet, not talking about what happened. We have breakfast together, still silent, and it lasts all through the short ride to my office. Outside the Gilt building, when I reach for the door handle to get out of the car, Landon reaches for my hand.
“I’ll see you in the evening,” he says, his eyes searching my face. We’re supposed to leave for his mystery weekend destination later in the day, and now, seeing the uncertainty in his eyes, it’s almost as if he’s afraid that last night would make me do something like change my mind, or walk away again.
But there’s nothing that could ever make me leave him, not again, not ever. “Of course,” I say with a small smile. “Have a great day.”
“I don’t know why you’re drawing it out,” Laurie is saying. “You know you’re going to move in with him.”
We’re in the dressing room of a bridal boutique, whose owner is a former model like Aunt Jacie. My lunch hour is already gone, but I’m relieved that Laurie has already chosen her gown, a flowy, off-shoulder dream that’s perfect for a beach wedding.
“I don’t know anything, and neither do you,” I frown again at the selection of bridesmaid dresses on the rack in front of me. Sissy Fletcher, the owner of the boutique, had selected them especially for me to view, or so she said. They were all beautiful, sweet pastel colors and girlish styles, the perfect accompaniment to Laurie’s dress. I’ve tried them on, and they were all flattering.
‘What are your misgivings exactly?” Laurie frowns. “Wanna share?”
I shrug, my hand hovering over one of the dresses, then moving to another one. I don’t know how to put all my worries into words. There were so many things that happened in a relationship - so many feelings, and tiny little actions that were impossible to explain to outsiders. “I just don’t want to rush.”
“So you keep saying.” She looks at the dresses. “Want my opinion?”
“On the dresses, yes. On moving in with Landon, no.”
She laughs. “Sometimes it doesn’t take four years, you know.”
I give her a warning look.
“What!” she exclaims. “You knew I was going to give you my opinion anyway.” She picks a dress, then another, then puts them back on the rack. “They’re all lovely. I can’t tell you which one to take.”
I sigh. “Of course.” Looking over the rack again, I select one, a lilac off-shoulder dress with a sweetheart neckline and a hemline that dances around my knees. “We’re still doing bare feet?”
“Of course.” Laurie grins at my choice. “This was always my fav!” she exclaims. “See? I instinctively know what you want. Which is why I know you want to move in with Landon.”
“I’m beginning to think he’s co-opted you into convincing me,” I say, glowering at her. Inside, I’m thinking about Landon’s face from this morning, our mutual silence, last night….
“Ha ha.” Laurie rolls her eyes, oblivious to my thoughts. “I always have your best interests at heart.” She thinks for a moment, then wrinkles her nose. “I’ve become one of those people in relationships who try to push everyone else into the same level of commitment, haven’t I?”
“You have,” I agree.
“Just think about it,” she says, laughing. “Do what you want to do,” She emphasizes the ‘you.’ “And no matter what, don’t forget that you have a tribe, and we always have your back.”
I won’t, I say silently. I can always count on my family, and not just them. I think of Landon, and suddenly I know for sure that I’m going to say yes. Because I know, deep down, I can count on him too.
AFTER work, Joe is waiting to take me to the airport. During our drives together, he has told me about his family. He has a teenage daughter, who lives with her mother in Connecticut, and he sees her about once a month. I ask him about her now, and he tells me he’s going to see her over the weekend.
“Enjoy yourself,” I tell him, catching the animation in his eyes through the rearview mirror. My own feelings are less straightforward. My mind keeps going back to last night, and I don’t know whether to accept that as far as Landon is concerned, I can’t help him with his nightmares and that I shouldn’t bother.
I could live with them. I would gladly lie beside him and give him the little comfort I can for the rest of my life. What I can’t do is watch him su
ffer alone, refuse to let me in, and refuse any other kind of help as well.
Inside the plane, Landon is in the bedroom, a tastefully decorated cabin with muted dark wood accents. He’s having a conversation on the phone and I catch a few words while I stand at the door admiring him. He looks gorgeous - beautiful and golden. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing muscular forearms. His collar is open too, his shirt still tucked into his pants, but slightly pulled out and rough around the waistband. It pulls at my heart, how helpless I am about this attraction. I could look at him all day, and I’d consider my day well spent.