“I’m listening.”
We’re in the kitchen. We picked up Thai food on the way home and I’m pulling out plates and silverware while he sets out the food. He pauses what he’s doing to put his arms around me.
“You’re not. You want to listen but at the end of the day you think I need to be protected from myself. Different from what my dad thinks but it boils down to a lot of the same.”
“Not true. Yes, I want to protect you under the current circumstances, but I’m not interested in controlling you. Or telling you whether or not you can go out with your friends. Or anything like that.”
He’s behind me, hands resting on my stomach, and I put mine over his.
“You know why I’m scared?” he asks after a moment.
“Why?”
“Because if something goes wrong, there won’t be any way for me to find you. They’ll put you on a boat or a plane or a damn hot air balloon and get you out of the country. You’ll disappear, Allora. It’s not like they’re looking for ransom. They want you. Specifically. And whoever is behind this has deep pockets. If I lose you, baby, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
Dammit.
Everything he said makes sense.
It terrifies me but so does the thought of hiding forever. Spending the rest of my life with a bodyguard. Looking over my shoulder. Worried that the boogey man lurks around every corner.
And I don’t know what to do about it.
“I don’t want that either,” I whisper. “But both options for me suck. Being in hiding feels like prison. As much as I love being with you, at some point these four walls are going to start closing in. I miss my friends. The beach. My work. We’ve talked about me going back but I postponed two shoots this week while we try to sort through the possibilities. When does it end, Landon?”
“I don’t know.” He rests his chin on my head. “All I ask is that you trust me until this is over. Once we take them down, I swear to you, I will never tell you what to do or where to go or stop you from living your life. I swear it on my nephew’s life.”
Oh, hell.
How do I argue with that?
He’s sincere. I know he means what he says.
And it would be stubborn and ridiculous of me to argue with him about it.
“Can you be patient just a little longer?”
“Yes. Not forever, but I can put up with this for a little longer. Please note I’m emphasizinga littlelonger.”
He chuckles. “Understood. Now let’s eat.”
We sit at the small counter that separates that kitchen from the living room and dig into chicken and broccoli and crab Rangoon.
“I was thinking about where you want to live when this is over,” Landon says as we’re eating.
I cock my head. “We’re moving right into the living together portion of the relationship?”
He shrugs. “We’re living together now. What sense does it make to live apart once the threat is over? You know damn well one of us is going to be sleeping over at the other’s place every night.”
He has a point.
“It would make sense to move into my place,” I say after a moment. “It’s paid for. On the beach. And we’d have a lot moreroom than at your place since it’s got two bedrooms and two bathrooms.”
He nods. “That’s what I was thinking, but I didn’t want to be presumptuous. Frankly, I wasn’t sure you’d want to go back there.”
“There’s a part of me that’s frustrated about it, but like I said, it’s paid for. I like not having a mortgage, even though I pay maintenance and taxes.”
“We also need to discuss money.”
