He doesn’t mention her, or last night either. I abandon all attempts to eat. “So what’s going to happen with Evans?” I ask, breaking the silence.
There is a small grimace, like he’d rather not talk about Evans or last night.” “Don’t worry about it,” he murmurs.
I stare at him, exasperated. “Of course I’m worried. I was there yesterday. If you hadn’t moved out of the way so quickly…” I stop talking, the possibilities still fresh and fearful in my mind.
He sighs. “He’s unstable and struggling with substance abuse problems. He’s blaming everyone but himself for everything that’s wrong with his life, but forget about him. He won’t be causing any trouble anymore.”
“Is Ava going to get him into rehab?” I ask, my voice low.
Landon looks at me, his eyebrows raised in surprise.
“I was looking for you in the morning,” I tell him with a shrug. “I heard part of your conversation with her.”
He is silent, so I continue.
“The thing is, no matter how easily you brush last night away… I was afraid, Landon. I still am.”
“Rachel…”
“No, let me finish.” I hold his gaze. “It’s not just the physical danger to you. It’s more than that. I don’t like feeling that you let Evans off because of what his sister still means to you.”
Landon sighs. “Rachel, I won’t deny that I tried to be considerate of Ava. Not because of what she means to me, but because I would have done the same for anyone else, especially someone I’ve had both a business and a personal relationship with.”
Not because of what she means to me. He didn't deny that she still meant something to him. A vehement ‘she means nothing to me’ would have sounded like music to my ears. I stay quiet and let him continue.
“Evans is obviously battling personal issues,” he says. “And I’m familiar enough with those to have some compassion for him.”
“You can’t seriously compare what he’s going through to what you went through?” I say incredulously. “You witnessed an accident and blamed yourself when you shouldn’t have. Evans is a spoiled playboy who is acting out his dissatisfaction in a dangerous way.”
Landon inhales sharply then looks away. “Well, he will go to rehab, or go to jail.” His voice takes on a chilling hardness. “Those are the options I’m going to give him. Either way, he won’t be bothering us again.”
I remember the screech of the tires, the cold hand of fear that had clutched at my chest when, for that one moment, I’d been sure that Landon was going to be hurt. I look down at my hands and notice the slight shaking, as if I’m still right there, in the car, watching the glare of the headlamps on his face. I close my eyes. “Okay,” I whisper. “If you’re sure.”
LANDON spends most of the morning working in his study. I return to the bedroom to shower before going out to the balcony to catch up on my reading. It’s a beautiful day, so it’s easy, after a while, to forget my anxiety and enjoy my book and the soft breeze teasing my cheeks.
When Landon comes out to find me hours later, I’m so engrossed in my reading that when I finally look up and see him standing in the doorway, I’m sure he’s been standing there for a while.
He’s still wearing his gray sweater from this morning, and there is such a tender look in his eyes that I feel my eyes start to sting.
I love you to the point of tears. The quote enters my mind from nowhere, and I can’t even remember where I read it.
Yes, I love him to the point of tears, because of how my feelings sometimes overwhelm me. I also love him to the point of joy, and laughter, and ecstasy.
And he loves me too, whatever Ava Sinclair tries to tell herself.
As if he can read my thoughts, he mouths the words. “I love you.”
I breathe, my heart tightening as my lips lift in a tender smile. “I love you too.”
He walks toward me, lowering his body onto one of the other chairs. “How’s your book?”
I shrug. “Very good.” I start to tell him about it. It’s the book by Michael Davis, the author I’m going to interview in Barbados, and Landon listens attentively as I regale him with the details of the intricate plot.
“Are you really enjoying this?” I ask after a while.
“I love listening to you, especially when you’re so animated.” He smiles at me. “I ordered lunch. They’ll bring it up here any minute, so please tell me more.”
I’m so thrilled with the compliment that I almost forget where I am in the story. I continue narrating to him until a hotel staff brings in our lunch and sets it out under Esmeralda’s watchful eyes.