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As I stride out, Landon calls after me, "Hey, wait!"
"Sorry," I say. "Not in the mood for another yesterday."
"Guess I'll keep your case binder, then," he says easily.
I pause. Sure enough, the jerk has my binder in his hands, is holding it out for me.
I take it, then continue walking off.
"Would a 'thanks' kill you?" he asks.
Don't stop - don't stop - don't -
I turn around to glare at him. "You're right, I should be falling all over myself for you showing basic human decency. After all, it probably is a stretch for you."
A smile plays on his face. "You're really determined to hate me, aren't you?"
I shoot him a sweet smile. "Doesn't take much determination."
He cocks his head to one side, smiles that stupid one-sided smile. "Oh yeah?"
I turn around again. "Yeah. Now, if you'll excuse me - "
"I'm sorry, you know."
I pause. My back stiffens. Here it is. What I'd been aching to hear for years - years - now, too many years too late.
"Kyra, did you hear me?"
I exhale. "Are you being serious right now?"
Despite my better instincts not to waste another second here, not to give the tool so much as a second look, I glance his way.
"What?" he says.
Stay cool. Just let him say whatever it is he needs to say, then leave. "What are you sorry for?"
"For yesterday, for what happened back in college. I'm sorry, Kyra."
I nod. "OK."
He adjusts his stance. "OK..."
My glare cuts to him. "What - am I supposed to be jumping up and down ecstatically?"
"No. I just... thought I should get that out of the way."
I nod. "Well. Right. OK. Now that you've gotten that out of the way, can I leave?"
He stands there, gaping at me. As if he expected a fricking Nobel Peace Prize or something.
"Am I supposed to be impressed that you're apologizing now of all times? Years too late? After you proved that you're exactly the same jerk as before?"
"No," he says. "I mean... I didn't even say it to intend anything. It just came out."
I stare into his eyes. Yes, Landon, I know you when you see something you want - you'll do anything, absolutely anything, to get it. And I won't be won over by a cheap apology made way too late. No way.
"Can we just start over?" he's asking now.
"No," I say. "We can't. Now, I have to go. I would wish you luck, except I like to win and I'm going to beat you. And best of all, I'm going to enjoy it."
As I turn on my heel and walk away, I can't help a self-satisfied smile taking over my face.
"I wouldn't count on it," he growls after me. "Just remember, Kyra: I always get what I want."
I'm glad I'm practically out of the room, so he can't see the shiver that goes through me.
**
The rest of the day goes as usual: I pick up Madison from school, we cook something fun together (tonight it's feta-filled ravioli with homemade basil pasta sauce), I tuck her into bed and read The Travels of Babar to her. Then it's lights-out and I have some much-needed me time. Sinking onto the couch, I've just put on some New Girl season four when my phone rings.
"Hello?" I say.
I don't normally pick up for unknown numbers, but with this case going on, new information could come from any and everywhere.
"Hey," a horribly familiar voice says.
Shit.
I'd know that voice anywhere. And just like that, I'm very, very mad.
"Seriously?" I snap. "Who gave you this number?"
"Maybe I'm prepared to make a deal."
"Don't bullshit me. Now, I'm hanging up."
"Don't - just wait, Kyky."
"Don't call me that."
My finger's poised, about to hang up. But I can't quite make myself. Not yet.
"I want to make it up to you. Call a truce."
"I don't want that."
"Unfortunate," he says.
"Yeah, for you. Now, I just started a show - "
"You realize I'm not going to stop, don't you?"
"So you're stalking me now? Cute. Lucky for me, there's this thing called a restraining order that works nicely for cases like yours."
"Just let me take you out. One dinner."
"Why?"
"To make it up to you?"
"To schmooze your way into a better case outcome, you mean."
And maybe even into my pants, I add inwardly.
"To settle it. If after the dinner you want me to leave you alone for good, I will."
"And let me guess. If I don't agree, you'll keep bothering me."
I can hear the smile in his voice. "Something like that. Yeah."
"So, blackmail?"
"You get a free meal out of it, so what's the problem?"
"The problem is the company."
"Ky - "
"No," I say suddenly. "I don't care what you do. I won't."
I hang up before he can answer.
I sink into the couch, breathing deep. That was close. Too close.
In a fast, furious autopilot, I snap off the TV, take off my makeup, brush my teeth. Floss. Put on my night cream, then throw myself into bed.
