“The story,” he says, like it’s obvious. “You better tell it before those frown lines freeze like that.”
I shoot him a look, trying not to be offended, before slumping back against the couch with a sigh. “Trust me, you don’t want to hear it.”
“Who says I don’t? What better things do I have to do?”
I eye him skeptically, but he seems sincere enough, and so I tell him. I tell him the whole sordid tale, everything from Mel’s departure, to the bomb she dropped, to Landon’s explanation and admission of their screwed-up relationship.
“So, what you’re saying,” says Randall when I’m finished, “is that the only thing keeping you two apart is the financial future of this company of his.”
“That’s not what I said at all,” I say with a disbelieving laugh. “How isthatthe conclusion you drew from everything I just told you?”
“Because it’s the only thing that matters,” he says. “If Pretty Boy was able to kick his dad out of the company, he’d divorce your sister and you two could ride off together into the sunset.”
I shake my head at him in disbelief. “It’s not that simple, Randall.”
His eyebrows raise. “Why not?”
“Well, for one thing, there’s my sister.”
He waves off my concern. “Oh, screw her.”
“Randall!” I cry.
“Read the room, Violet,” he says, wagging his finger at me. “She doesn’t want you in her life, and I know it hurts to hear, but sometimes you gotta listen to what people are telling you instead of the little voice in your head telling you to fix everything. It’s noble you want to make things right with her, but at some point, you have to cut your losses and move on.”
I blink at him, not expecting such a perceptive speech from the man who calls LandonPretty Boy. I let his words sink in. He’s not wrong, per se, but hearing the reality of the situation aloud sounds so…harsh.
“Okay, fine,” I agree, for argument’s sake. “Let’s say we take my sister out of the equation altogether. Write her off. There’s still the glaring fact that Landon’s been lying to me this whole time.”
“So, he lied,” Randall says, rolling his eyes. “Doesn’t really seem like that lie was about you, though.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “How was it not about me?”
“Look. These are different times than when I was your age, but if I were in a relationship likethat, I doubt I’d admit it to anyone. Seems to me like he was too ashamed to tell you the truth.”
“But he could have,” I urge. “He should have.”
“But he apologized, didn’t he?” Randall points out.
“Well, yes…”
“You’re saying you don’t forgive him then?”
I shake my head, nibbling on the cookie in my hand for something to do other than stare into Randall’s surprisingly perceptive eyes. “Idoforgive him.”
“So, you’re saying you don’t love him?”
I nearly choke on my caramel bourbon nut cookie because who knew Randall Bishop was such a nosy gossip. I quickly chew the rest, swallowing hard. “Wait a second. I never saidanythingabout love.”
“You didn’t have to, cupcake,” he says with a snicker. “It’s written all over your face, clear as the damn day.”
“You said thestorywas written all over my face.”
“Yeah. It’s a love story, isn’t it?”
I groan, trying to figure out how to explain what I’m feeling to a retired rock star. “I…careabout him. Yes. But he’smarriedto mysister, Randall. It’s so…messy.”
“So, clean up the mess,” he says, like it’s just that easy. “If he weren’t married, you two would be together. The only way he’s getting a divorce is if he no longer has to rely on his father’s financial contribution to the company. And you know what that means?”
