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She looks grateful. “That seriously sounds great.”
WE stay up late, considering and dismissing clothes from our wardrobes, and for a while I manage to forget the numbness inside. We end up going to bed around midnight, after finally deciding on which dresses, shoes and jewelry to wear, and in the morning, we both have to rush to make it out early.
By the time I’m done with the morning meetings with the other members of the writing team, and an intense editing session with Mark, I start to think that maybe it’s time to congratulate myself. I’ve actually managed to go through the whole morning without tormenting myself about Landon. Maybe it’s because I’ve been really busy, but it gives me hope that I can get over him, that maybe with time, I’ll stop thinking about him at all.
I’m still having those thoughts when the package arrives late in the afternoon. It’s a delivery from the Swanson Court International, and the sender is Tony Gillies, Landon’s assistant. Inside is a gilt-edged envelope containing a full access invitation to the grand reopening of the Gold Dust Hotel.
I stare at the back of the invite, at the image of the hotel embossed in gold leaf on the smooth velvety stationery. I close my eyes, suddenly weak with yearning. All of a sudden, my mind is flooded with the memories that week in San Francisco, when it was just me and Landon, and I’d slowly and completely fallen in love with him.
I’m not going to walk away from this.
But I am, and I have. Why was it so hard for him to understand and accept that I want to move on? Why couldn’t he just leave me alone?
Why does everything have to be about what he wants? What about me? I want a chance to get over him, to move on with my life.
I pick up my phone without thinking and dial his number. I wait as the phone rings, my anger slowly plateauing when he doesn’t pick up.
Almost relieved, I place my phone on my desk. I’m probably overreacting, I decide. Maybe the invitation isn’t a big deal. It made sense for me to be at the opening, I’d written an article about the hotel, after all.
I start as the sound of my ringtone breaks into my thoughts. Landon’s name is flashing on the screen. I hesitate for a moment, not sure anymore that I want to talk to him, but finally I pick up the phone and accept the call.
“Hello.”
“Rachel.”
There’s something about the way he says my name. It makes me weak and emotional. I swallow, suddenly at a loss for what to say. Now I can’t remember exactly what I was angry about.
“Rachel,” Landon says again. His voice is cool and controlled, a far contrast to the turmoil I’m feeling. How can he be like that, when I feel like I’m being torn apart?
“I received a delivery of an invitation to the opening of the Gold Dust,” I say, keeping my voice as aloof as I can manage. “I’m assuming it’s a mistake.”
His deep chuckle is followed by a short silence. I shouldn’t have called, I realize suddenly. I could have ignored the package, but I’d wanted any excuse to talk to him, and to hear his voice. I sigh inwardly. He probably knows.
“Why would you assume that?” he asks finally.
I swallow. “Because there’s no reason for me to be there?”
“I want you there,” he says, “with me.”
There’s no doubt in his voice, and the confidence, the certainty… it does things to my insides. “Why?” I ask, my voice low.
“Do I have to tell you?” I hear him sigh. “I want you by my side, and not just at the opening. In fact, forget the invite, Rachel. Just tell me what I have to do, let me know what you want from me.”
I try not to imagine being at his side while he opens his beautiful new hotel. I try not to fall in love with the image of us together. I try not to want it desperately.
“I don’t want anything from you,” I say softly.
“You’re lying,” he says. “I can hear it in your voice.”
“No. I’m not.” I steel myself. “It’s over Landon. It should have been over the moment I left your apartment that first night.” I sigh. “You should never have tried to find me, and I should never have accepted your ridiculous proposal. That’s the truth. What did you think? That you’d ask me to fly across the country with you and suddenly I’d forget…” I trail off.
“Forget what?”
I’m quiet. That I can’t be with you. That I can’t keep on being in love with you. “That I’ve moved on. Because I have moved on, Landon. And you should too.”
He doesn’t reply. “I have a meeting,” he says after a long pause. “We’ll finish this conversation later.”
He’s gone before I can respond.
