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But then it hits me, as hot and angry and certain as a fire ant: Guys who are actually into their girlfriends don't break up with them - and certainly not like that.
"Sorry," he says quickly, before I can say anything more. "You still into Kate Morton?"
"She keeps writing books, so of course. I'm surprised you remembered."
"Yeah, I had this whole meet and greet mapped out..."
"Stop it," I say quietly. "Just stop. This doesn't make any sense."
"Because of what I did?"
"Because of what you did. You keep saying these things that don't match up with what you did. So stop pretending that things ended any different way than they actually did."
Just then, the waiter comes with our menus.
"I think we're about ready to order," Landon tells the bald, big-nosed man.
"Oh?"
"She'd like the flank steak with roasted potatoes and green beans, and I'd like the same, please," he tells the waiter.
Um, what now?
He grins at me as the waiter leaves. "How'd I do?"
I almost want to call the waiter back and change my order just to wipe that self-satisfied smirk off his face, but I really do want the flank steak.
"Listen, I know I was a dick back in college," he says. "But I meant what I said before. I really am sorry."
"You weren't just a dick." I have to force myself not to raise my voice. I've been waiting over nine years for this long-overdue apology. Let's just say emotions are running high. "You broke up with me in the middle of a party, in front of everyone - Pamela, your brothers, all our friends, random people we hardly knew. Then, you just left. No explanation. Nothing. Just yelling 'I don't want to be with you anymore, get it!' and rushing out. Then you disappeared. No calls. No texts. Nothing. Three years down the drain."
Landon rakes his hand through his light brown hair. "It was a douchebag move."
"And you never told me why," I continue, getting angrier and angrier the more I speak. I know I should stop, that the time to stop was minutes ago, but I can't. Fuck Landon. And fuck me, for even agreeing to come here with this jerk, no matter what he said. "One day things seemed perfect, the next I was single with an ex who didn't even have the decency to tell me why."
Landon can't meet my eyes, is scowling. "I was just a stupid kid, and I..."
His jaw tightens. "Forget it."
"You're not going to tell me why," I say dully.
"It doesn't matter," he says. "OK? I... I don't want to talk about it. Point is that you didn't deserve that, at all. I'm sorry. I don't blame you for hating me."
"OK," is all I can say.
"Kyra - " he begins.
"Listen," I say. "You lost the right to be with me years ago. But if you stop being an ass, we can maybe be... not enemies. OK?"
He nods, exhales. "OK. I can live with that."
"Good. Because there are some things you don't get second chances for. Marrying your sister's ex-husband. War crimes. Breaking up with your girlfriend in front of all your friends without a damn reason why."
Landon chuckles. "That's on the same level as war crimes?"
I find myself chuckling too. "Well. You know what I mean."
"I do." He shrugs. "No argument here. I deserve it."
And, just like that, a tension that was hovering over the table lifts. Our conversation gets easy, simple, like with any old friend, but better. Our steak gets delivered, and our red wine too. We eat and drink and talk.
When I'm not thinking about what a dick Landon can be, he can actually be pretty fun. He's jokey, irreverent, and a great conversationalist. We talk about his travels to Prague and the rest of Europe, how he's still working away at reading the whole Robert B. Parker series, how weird it is for him to be President of Storm Media when he always thought that would be Greyson's job.
"It still feels like some weird nightmare-dream," he confesses. "I mean the office - it's Dad's old office - I try to stay away from it. It's... too much. Doesn't feel like mine. Every time I try to even slightly move or shift anything, it feels wrong. Nah, I spend most of my time in my old office, which has all my stuff in it. But God, Kyra, you should see the place - all of Storm Media's offices now. Dad did some renovations a few years back, and it's all windows and sleek modern furniture. He even added some foosball tables and a jungles' worth of tropical plants in the break room. Almost makes me feel like I'm working for Google."
"You're not giving any tours, are you?" I joke.
"Actually..." A dangerous smile comes over Landon's face as his blue eyes ensnare mine. "There's a tour going on tonight."
