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“Why did you stop seeing each other?”
“We didn’t want the same things.”
Landon chuckles, but he doesn’t sound or look amused. “You’re being deliberately vague.”
“I told him I was in love with him,” I turn back to the window, escaping the force and beauty of the eyes trained on me. “He didn’t feel the same way.”
There is another silence from Landon. Is he wondering why I remained friends with Jack after that? Why two years later I was still so into him that I cared that he was getting engaged to someone else. Does it make him think less of me? Not that I should care what he thinks, after all, I’m supposed to be getting over him.
“You told me you were completely over Weyland,” Landon says, his voice low. “Were you being honest?”
If he only knew. I close my eyes, pushing away the pain threatening to engulf me. “There’s really no point in talking about Jack.”
He is silent. I listen to his fingers beat a low, erratic rhythm on the tops of his thighs. “Are you still in love with him?” I hear him say, his voice grave.
I consider saying yes. The idea cycles through my head, and I contemplate what would follow. Landon would walk away. There’s no way he’d keep pursuing me if he thought that I was in love with someone else. He’d let me go, and no matter how miserable that would make me, at least I’d have the space I need to get over him.
But I can’t bring myself to lie to him. There’s something in his eyes. Some emotion that reaches deep inside me and makes me want to remove every single doubt in my mind, to break down every single wall I’ve labored to put up between us. I pull in a shaky breath. “No,” I whisper softly. “I was never in love with him. For a while, I thought I was, but I was mistaken.”
Landon releases a long breath, then he leans towards me, a puzzled frown on his face. “Then why?”
His face is so close to mine that it’s difficult to think. My eyes slip to his lips, and I have a sudden memory of those lips on my skin, tasting, teasing... I swallow. “Why what?”
He covers my hand with his, the touch firm but gentle. I start to tremble, knowing that he only has to keep touching me and I’ll fall to pieces. I try to pull my hand away, but he holds on, bringing his other hand to keep mine between both of his. His next words are tender and probing “Why do you keep pushing me away?”
I try to remember all the reasons, but everything is clouded by my desire to give in, to forget my doubts, to surrender myself to him, for the pleasure…
…and the inevitable pain.
“Because I don’t want this,” I whisper. “I don’t want to be with you.” Not like this, I add silently. Not unless you love me too.
His eyes close, and his jaw flexes. I don’t wait for him to say anything before I continue, digging my heels in before I surrender to the temptation to tell him how I really feel, what I really want. “I meant it when I said you can’t give me what I want.”
Something flashes in his eyes, like pain, but I can’t be too sure. I watch his throat work as he swallows, then he releases my hand, letting it fall back on my thigh. The thought that I’ve hurt him is almost unbearable. I want to take it back, but I know he’ll get over it. He’ll find some other woman who would be happy without the promise of commitment, or at least pretend to be.
My eyes are stinging with tears, and I blink them away, looking straight ahead to keep Landon from noticing. If only I didn’t love him so much, if only I didn’t want him so much.
I’m relieved when I see the Gilt building a few yards ahead. We’re both silent as the car inches forward in the traffic. It seems to take forever till Joe slides into the curb at the entrance and stops.
I risk a glance at Landon. He doesn’t look at me, and his face is as remote and distant as if it was hewn from stone. “I… Thanks for the ride.”
His response is a small, bitter chuckle. “I should thank you,” he says, “for making it clear to me, without any doubt, that I can’t always get what I want.”
I flinch at his tone, and at the realization that he thinks I’ve been trying to teach him a lesson. Taking one last, long look at his beautiful profile, I decide that there would be no point in arguing.
My heart is heavy as I leave the car. With my whole body trembling, I take the steps up towards the glass doors. I hear the low purr of the engines as the car starts to move away, but I don’t look back.
I’m doing the right thing, I tell myself for the thousandth time.
It only makes me feel worse.
“IT has taken a lot of work to restore the hotel’s faded charms. An acclaimed refurbishment team, for one, all of whom do not hesitate to give the real credit to one man, the new owner. From the Italian marble in the lobby, the exquisite mosaic in the indoor swimming pool; the extensive art collection, to the crested stationary, and even the cutlery, everything you find at the Gold Dust, the newest addition to the Swanson Court Hotels, has been carefully chosen by Landon Court himself. The man behind the contemporary success of the Swanson Court Brand isn’t just an hotelier, he knows what he wants, and never hesitates to go after it.”
Chelsea looks up from her tablet, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she raises an eyebrow in my direction. Like me, she’s a features associate at Gilt Travel. She’s also disarmingly pretty, and genuinely friendly. Today, she’s wearing all blue, her corn-silk hair in a loose ponytail. “Could it be any more obvious that you’re in love with this man?” she teases.
I busy myself with powering on my computer. Landon’s voice still sounding in my ears.
Why do you keep pushing me away?
