As much as I didn’t want to believe it, that kind of love never disappeared. Not really. For years, it sat simmering beneath the surface, like a pot about to boil over.
I guzzled the water and refocused on my tasks. Over the last few weeks, I had been nervous every time I saw Landon, afraid of getting hurt or doing something that betrayed my former self.
But now, that feeling, that liquid giddiness that texting him always gave me, stuck. Through the chilly nights and boring spreadsheet-filled days, it fizzed and bubbled. I felt greedy for more of that feeling. For more of him.
When the knock on the door came, I smoothed my hair down and answered it. Landon stood, cool and collected as usual, holding a tray of to-go cups in his hands. His dark curls were slightly tousled like he’d just run his fingers through them,and he dressed like he was going to an expensive gym, with gray sweatpants and the coziest-looking sweatshirt.
“I brought caffeine,” he announced proudly.
“Thank you.” I accepted the cup, making space for him to come inside. “Sorry it’s a bit of a mess in here.”
Landon slowly looked across the apartment—the tarp-covered living room decked in painting gear, the tiny dining room with fresh flowers, and the kitchen that featured garlands of tiny pumpkins—like he tried to digest every piece of it. Attempting to memorize every detail.
“It’s perfect,” he said after a second. “Is Macey here too? She’s your roommate, right?”
“She is my roommate, but she’s not here. Off doing her travel blogger duties somewhere across the city.”
“Damn.” He set down an extra cup, which had escaped me earlier. “I was hoping free coffee might smooth things over.”
“Ah. She told me about her interaction with you at the gas station.”
On the way home from a summer-long road trip with Noah, Macey ran into Landon at a gas station close to Chicago. She described the scene as “tenser than you guys playing drunk Jenga.” Macey had been the first to find out Landon was moving back to Chicago, and I was thankful the universe gave me the warning. Not that this was an event I could have prepared for.
“Oh, right.” Landon scratched his head. “I was actually referring to the voicemail.”
I took a sip from the cup.Chai.He didn’t forget. “Voicemail?”
He quirked a brow. “The day after I left Chicago, she left a five-minute-long voicemail cussing me out and threatening to chop off my balls if I ever came back.” He paused. “Fortunately, she never came to collect on that promise.”
A wave of affection for Macey swarmed me. She never told me that.
I shivered, and the motion caught Landon’s eye. He looked me up and down. Then did it again. It made me feel examined and flushed. Because it wasn’t a subtle or respectful perusal, and the heat of his gaze reminded me of hot moments. He’d looked at me exactly like this before we made love for the first time. Before he stripped me out of my clothes and took me to bed.
Remembering that night made my nipples tighten, and I crossed my arms over my chest to hide that.I should’ve worn a bra.
“That’s my shirt,” he said.
“What?”
“The shirt you’re wearing is mine.”
Horrified, I glanced down at the navy blue Chicago Bears T-shirt. While faded, it was long enough to cover my butt. My go-to painting shirt. Something comfortable that I wasn’t afraid to get covered in paint.
“So?” I covered up my embarrassment with defensiveness.
Was that pink covering Landon’s cheeks? “It just took me by surprise. I didn’t realize you kept it.”
You and me both.
“It’s a shirt I don’t mind getting paint on,” I breathed. “Don’t think too much of it.”
He nodded, a flash of disappointment on his face. “Noted.”
It was like I could hear my mother chastising me in my head and reminding me to stay polite. “I appreciate the tea.”
“Of course. I thought it might help us with getting your first piece for the application done.”
“Well, I need all the help I can get.”
