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He looks at me, and I think about the way my words might sound.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I say, struggling to clean up the spilled words.
Landon’s lips turn into a half smile, and the timer on the oven goes off. I don’t know why I still bake as much as I do; no one eats it anymore. I don’t live with Maggy and Dakota, I’m not at Landon’s apartment every night, and Jennifer only eats gluten-free cupcakes. The cupcakes just sit there on the granite counter, decorated and delicious, waiting to be eaten, and three days later, when the icing starts to harden, I toss them out.
“I’ll accept your apology if I can have one of whatever that timer was for.”
That smile that makes my entire soul ache.
I nod, agreeing, and choose not to mention that I got the recipe for the maple squares I’m baking from his mom. She promised me that she won’t tell her son how often we talk. I cherish my friendship with her, and there was a point in my life recently that I allowed myself the fantasy of her being a permanent fixture in my life. Who am I kidding? Sometimes in my darkest of times, I allow myself to imagine a better, happier life I might have.
I told Karen about Amir before Landon could. I wasn’t entirely sure if he would even tell her, but I didn’t want any more secrets between any of us. Karen has been good to me. Ken even helped me find a lawyer to help me deal with the pressure from Amir’s family. I don’t want a dime of his money, I just don’t want to be harassed anymore. I’ll gladly move out of this house and back into a shared apartment, and I’ll even pick up extra shifts at Lookout if need be.
I don’t trust the family’s intentions; even my lovely sister has more allegiance to the other side. I’m all alone over here, with only crabby Jennifer on my side, and I’m not 100 percent positive that money wouldn’t sway her to work against me. I’d like to think that I would be House Stark and that Amir’s family would be the Lannisters, but once the fighting starts, who really knows.
“Deal?” he prods after I’m silent a little too long.
I nod. “Of course. How are you?”
“I’m busy, too.”
I look around the room and back at Landon’s boots. I don’t know if either of us have it in us to keep up this small talk. I decide to take one for the team. “How did you find me?”
He takes a breath and brings his hands to his mouth. I miss touching him. “You’re not the only one who’s good at stalking.”
We both laugh at the same time, and it’s refreshing and nostalgic.
“Can I ask you something?” Landon says.
I probably shouldn’t tell him that he can ask me anything he wants. I simply want to hear his voice.
“Anything.” I run my fingers over my messy braid. If I would have known he was coming, I would have dressed a little differently. My leggings smell like cabbage and syrup, and my shirt has a small red wine stain on the collar. Will he notice? He’s staring at me now, taking me in. His gaze seems to stop in places where I’m bare: my shoulders, my face.
“How often were you coming here when you lived in the city?”
My throat tightens up.
“Almost every night. Sometimes I would have a driver and sometimes Cliff would drive me.”
“Cliff?” he repeats.
The name is familiar to Landon. Of course it is. Cliff, Amir’s closest friend, acted like an idiot and tried to spy on me at Landon’s place. When I confronted him, he told me he was looking out for me. He heard I was hanging out with a college guy from that damn Mitch, who was bartending that messy night when I had Landon meet me out.
Me, Landon, Dakota—all in the same room. It was a mess, and the moment I saw Mitch behind the bar, I knew word would get back to Cliff. He still had no right being a creep and checking in on me, and he deserved the fractured hand from Hardin’s boot. The thought of Hardin makes my blood boil. I was rooting for him, and he fucked up again with Tessa.
