“… come back?” Lissa was saying. “Maybe we could try one more time.”
He snapped back to present, her comment as sobering as a slap to the face. “You want me back.” So that’s what this phone call was about. Lissa was lonely.
“Please, Landon. I never stopped caring about you. I never stopped wanting you.” That wasn’t hope in her voice. It was desperation.
“Yes, you did,” he stated. “When you left. You stopped wanting me on a dime, Lissa.”
Her sobbing stopped abruptly. “You’re the same as you always were, do you know that?”
But he wasn’t. “How would you know?”
She didn’t answer him, only continued her self-indulgent speech. “You’re the same pompous jackhole you’ve always been. You shut down your feelings when things get hard. Did you ever think if you’d actually shown me how you feel you could’ve held on to me? If you’d let me see who you really were, maybe I wouldn’t have left your stuffy ass for Carson Robbins.”
Her tirade didn’t upset him. If he’d have told her how he “actually” felt, she would’ve left him sooner. “If that’s true, then why do you want me back? Why would you want to be with a man who shut you out and pushed you away? Wouldn’t you rather have a man who told you, no matter the cost, how much he loves you?”
Like you should have done with Kimber. Idiot.
Lissa was railing, volume escalating, her vocabulary becoming less refined and beginning to smack of the trailer park she’d prided herself on escaping. She ended the call with name-calling, which she knew he hated. Then she hung up on him. Which he also hated.
Shaking his head, he threw his car into drive and peeled into his father’s driveway. Scotch was calling his name.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Red and blue balloons tied with silver ribbons were strung throughout Aiden’s house. Aiden stood on a chair tying another pair of balloons to the curtain rod.
“We’re here,” their father, Mike, announced as he and Landon walked through the open front door.
“Hey, Pop. Landon, you made it. Nice!” Aiden climbed down and met them at the door. Mike hugged him, then wandered into the kitchen and struck up a conversation with Sadie.
Landon took his first look around at Sadie and Aiden’s house. “Good-looking place, bro.”
“Yeah.” Aiden hugged him, then stepped back to admire their home. “It’s modest, but we manage.”
“Nothing wrong with modest.” Nothing wrong with modest or vintage or simple. Or women who wear your work shirt and play dress-up with your nephew.
Aiden’s eyes went to his empty entryway. “Where’s Kimber? Lyon said he invited her. Hasn’t shut up about her, Evan says.”
Great. So Landon had ruined more than his own heart by letting Kimber go. He thought back to what he’d told Lissa last night. Wished that he was the kind of man who could say what he thought, what he felt. Wished he could convince Kimber to come back to him. But she’d made her decision, and he would abide by it.
“She’s in Chicago.”
Aiden grunted. Landon waited for him to reprimand him, but instead Aiden handed over a roll of tape. “Help me with the rest of these streamers.”
He obliged, happy to have something to do with his hands. Evan and Lyon arrived soon after, and Angel an hour after them. She’d left Richie at home, blaming a work assignment and teasingly accusing Landon for forcing weekend labor. Three more kids and their parents filed into the house, friends Lyon played with when he was in town, Landon guessed. Sadie and Angel corralled them into the yard, where tables covered in confetti and games waited.
Landon was about to head out to help with the piñata when Crickitt walked in, her bright blue eyes shadowed by dark circles, her curls in disarray. Shane walked in behind her… carrying the reason for her dishevelment.
“There’s my cheeseburger!” Aiden rushed to the carrier before Shane could put it down and extracted the baby girl from the cushioning. She was gorgeous. Dark hair, dark eyes, chubby cheeks. Landon pushed away every thought in his head revolving around Kimber and his child—which was basically all of them.
“Cheeseburger?” Landon tickled the baby under the chin. Wide blue eyes found his and held. The edge of her lips pushed pudgy cheeks aside in an attempt at a smile, nearly breaking him in two. Landon’s head flooded with thoughts of Kimber, of their baby, despite doing his best to avoid them.
He took hold of the baby’s hand, her fingers clutching his. His eyes started to burn. This was what he’d walked away from. Like Shane’s and Crickitt’s child was half of each of them, Kimber carried a baby in her womb one part her, one part Landon. He imagined their son or daughter with flame-red hair and bright emerald eyes. Or dark blond hair and hazel eyes like his own. The thought had pain crushing his chest with two thousand pounds of pressure.
“Yeah, Blair Kathleen. BK, as in Burger King.” Aiden’s voice plucked him out of his morose thoughts. His brother sent Crickitt an approving nod as she shook her head at the silly nickname. Shane and Crickitt had named their daughter after Shane’s mother and Landon’s mother. Blair August. Kathleen Downey. It was an endearing tribute.
Crickitt shrugged. “My mom didn’t want her granddaughter named after her, anyway. She said one Chandra was plenty.”
“No kidding,” Shane grumbled, and she gave him a playful slap. He grabbed her up and kissed her. Landon’s heart gave another envious squeeze.
Aiden handed over their precious bundle, and the family of three wandered into the kitchen.
Over dinner—pizza for the kids and, since Sadie had admittedly ruined Mom’s recipe for lasagna, pizza for the adults, too—Landon stayed close to Shane and talked business.
Lifting a bottle of water to his lips, he chugged down half its contents, wetting his parched throat after the salt-laden dinner. The local pizza place was no Giordano’s, but pretty good. “So, Aid,” he said to his brother who sipped a bottle of beer, “how’s the Axle’s thing coming along?”
Aiden had made plans to buy five motorcycle shops last year from Axle Zoller, the former owner.
“Right on schedule,” Aiden said, keeping his eyes on the kids’ table. Sadie looked up from the cake, sparing a smile for her husband, and Landon could have sworn he saw Aiden blush. “ ’Scuse me,” he said, zooming over to his wife as if he’d been called.
“That went well,” Landon muttered to himself.
Shane lifted his own beer bottle and chuckled.
“What’s the best way to slip him some cash?” he asked his billionaire cousin.
Shane shook his head. “If there’d been a way to do that, I’d have done it already. You know that.”
He did. Aiden and Shane were close, and there was nothing his cousin wouldn’t do for any of them. “What about Sadie?”
“Not a prayer, man.” He pointed at the couple with his bottle. “Those two are a unit. And you don’t want a piece of that feisty blonde.” He’d meant it as a compliment, Landon could tell. Aiden, far from the henpecked husband, strolled over to where they were standing, Sadie wrapped around his waist.
“Sorry for the pizza.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’ll get Mrs. Downey’s lasagna recipe right one of these years.”
Aiden mouthed the words No she won’t. Sadie caught him and tagged him in the arm. “It’s okay, beautiful,” he said, pulling her close and kissing her forehead. “I didn’t marry you for your culinary abilities.”
“Yeah, he married me for my rad tree house skills.” She winked at Crickitt, who joined them, BK cradled against her chest asleep.
Aiden flushed—actually flushed—and smashed a kiss onto Sadie’s mouth, preventing her from saying more. Landon raised a brow. Shane looked equally confused, while Crickitt looked suspiciously in the know. Landon was pretty sure he didn’t want to know.
Lyon’s friends left and Dad took Evan and Lyon back home where they were staying the night. Landon had planned on sleeping here tonight. Angel, too, who was now helping Sadie clean up
the remnants of the party.
Landon pulled down the last of the balloons and shoved them into a trash bag. “Want to get plowed?”
Aiden sent him a sideways glance. “Hell, yes. But I don’t have any scotch.”
“Brought my own.” Sadly, Landon had planned on getting tanked tonight. After the stress of losing Kimber and worrying about the baby—and the irritating call from Lissa—he had made a beeline for the liquor store. Macallan Limited Release was costly, and usually reserved for celebration, but what the hell?
He was celebrating being a dumbass. So there.
Shane wandered back into the living room, keys in hand, little BK in her car seat, snoozing away. “What are you guys doing tonight?”
“Getting hammered,” Aiden said with a smile.
“Nice.” Shane raised an approving brow. “Any reason why?”
“Other than Landon getting his girlfriend pregnant? Nope.” Landon coiled his hand into a fist, but Aiden’s smile only widened. “They had to find out sooner or later, man.” He slapped Landon’s shoulder.
“Who’s your girlfriend?” Crickitt asked, brightening for the first time tonight.
“Kimber,” Sadie chimed in, stepping into the living room from the kitchen. “Angel’s friend who spent a summer with their family when they were kids. She had a crush on Landon.”
Crickitt melted. “Aww.”
Angel came into the living room, drying her hands on a dish towel. “I heard my name.”
“We were talking about Kimber,” Aiden filled in. “And how she and Landon have been knockin’ boots.”
Landon shot his brother a look. Really?
“I knew it!” Angel said, waving the dish towel at Landon. “I guess that drink went well.”
“And she’s pregnant, in case you didn’t overhear that part.” Aiden took a step away from Landon. Smart move. Landon was already coiled to throw a sucker punch in his direction.
Angel’s eyes grew wide. “Kimber is pregnant?”
“Yes.” Landon’s eyes sank close. Defeated. “Kimber is pregnant.”
“Well, where is she?” Angel looked left, then right, as if Kimber had been hiding in a nearby closet the entire party.
Landon tried to say something to the effect of, In Chicago. Avoiding me, but the words wouldn’t come. He shook his head instead.
“Oh,” Crickitt muttered after no one spoke. “Oh no.” She put a palm against Landon’s chest and gazed up at him with earnest concern. The warmth of her hand over his heart caused his cheeks to heat. The confusing emotions simmering under the surface this evening suddenly clawing to get out.
Crickitt, the human tuning fork, picked up on it. Sympathy filled her eyes. “Things will work out for the best,” she murmured, patting him. “Look at Aiden and Sadie. Look at Shane and me.” Tears shimmered in her eyes. “Keep the faith.”
She pulled her hand away and turned to Shane. “Do you want to stay here and have too many drinks with your cousins?”
Lucky bastard.
“I can drive him home,” Sadie offered. “I’m not drinking since we’re trying to get into the same situation you’ve gotten Kimber into,” she told Landon.
Aiden wasn’t doing half-bad in the wife department, either.
“No, I’m going to go home.” Shane tugged his wife against him. “Try and let Crickitt get some sleep for a change.”
Landon didn’t know if that was a baby joke or a sex joke—or if couples had sex after having babies, but Crickitt smiled up at her husband, pleased with his answer. Shane probably thought that by leaving, he’d be dodging the relationship-talk bullet, but he’d be wrong. Landon wasn’t going to talk about Kimber. The plan was to drink so he didn’t have to talk about—or think about—Kimber.
No way was he bringing her up.
* * *
“She doesn’t want a relationship. She wants an arrangement.”
Except instead of “arrangement” Landon had muttered a garbled version of “harranguement,” which most assuredly was not a word.
Aiden regarded him with a raised brow.
“This is why people butcher the English language,” Landon said, doing a decent job of butchering it now. He lifted his glass again. “It’s fun.” He took another drink. Relinquishing the glass, he sat back and focused on the dark outline of the fruit trees at the back of the moonlit yard.
They were quiet for a while, until Aiden spoke. “Hell of a pickle you’ve gotten yourself into.”
“It was supposed to be a fling,” Landon grumbled, keeping his eyes trained at a distance.
“A fling that turned into a baby.”
He slid a gaze over at his brother. Aiden leaned an arm on the edge of the patio table between them. Landon remained silent. Mainly because he was having a hard time speaking without slurring.
Aiden’s blond brows lifted into his too-long hair. “Did you literally draw up a contract with her? Like with signatures and a notary public stamp? Because that’s effing nuts.”
Landon opened his mouth to ream him, but Aiden wasn’t serious. His brother offered a crooked smile and sipped his beer. Content to bust Landon’s balls, evidently.
“Do you want her back?” Aiden asked after another permeating silence.
Landon’s face pulled into a grimace. He rubbed a hand over his jawline, the hint of growth scratching his palm. Had he been this miserable in his entire life? He didn’t think so.
“Thing is…” He didn’t know how much more he should say. He scrubbed his jaw again while he thought. A woman’s voice coming from behind him read his mind.
“You love her.” Aiden’s smart-as-a-whip-crack wife came around to sit on Aiden’s lap. His brother pulled Sadie close and buried his nose in her long, fair hair. She wrapped her arms around his neck, but her attention was focused squarely on Landon. “You love her or you wouldn’t be out here drowning your feelings in scotch.”
Landon thrust out his bottom lip and regarded his glass silently.
“Should I yell for Angel, or are you going to talk to me?” she demanded. For a petite thing, she was a pistol. Shane had warned him. Aiden shot Landon a smile, one that said he’d be glad to watch Landon go a round or two with his other half.
Landon flicked a look from her to Aiden and attempted to look wounded by her words. “Sadie, et tu?”
She only smiled. Aiden squeezed one of her thighs just below a short pair of shorts, making Landon feel like a third wheel. An incredibly inebriated third wheel, but still.
Sensing her husband’s growing impatience, or maybe Landon’s growing discomfort, she slipped from Aiden’s lap and settled onto the empty chair between him and Landon instead.
But Sadie didn’t know who she was dealing with. He was the Tin Man. Impervious to emotion. She stared him down. He stared back. Or tried to. His vision blurred in and out. Maybe she’d forget what she said if he remained silent for long enough. Landon took turns grousing at her and his half-empty glass before realizing the standoff could last until the End of Days.
“Fine,” he growled. “I love her.”
Aiden sat up in his chair, a confused-slash-concerned look on his face. Was it so unbelievable that Landon could be in love? Then he thought of how often his family had seen him with a woman. How distant he and Lissa had been when she had been around his family. He hadn’t brought another woman around before or since.
On a surrendering sigh, Landon went for broke. “I don’t want to be a part-time dad,” he said. “I want to be a father full-time. I want to be with Kimber full-time. I want…” He lifted a hand, dropped it into his lap. “I want all of her, you know?”
He tried to focus on Sadie, but she kept going out of focus. At one point there were three of her. That wasn’t good. He shoved his glass aside. He wasn’t quite pass-out-in-the-yard drunk, but he was close.
“You should tell her that, Landon.” She rested her hand over his and, for the second time tonight, tears dammed his throat.
Lovely. The drunk cry. He�
�d experienced that once before—the night he found out Rachel had the abortion. Ah, shit, here came the feelings from back then, too. Great.
Pile it on, Life.
“Aiden, we should go in. Let Landon have a few minutes,” Sadie said. Then to Landon, “We’ll check on you later, but you take all the time you need, okay?”
He clenched his jaw and nodded. A tear tumbled out of one eye as Aiden and Sadie turned to go inside. He heard Sadie mumble something and Angel mumble something in return. Landon sniffed, sucked it up. Sitting here and blubbering like a baby wasn’t going to solve anything. Truth was, he’d fucked up and he needed to fix it. He’d tried being compliant and look where it’d gotten him. He’d agreed his way into a corner.
He pulled the phone out of his pocket. On the third try, he successfully dialed Kimber’s number. He’d have to apologize to Kenneth Winger and Kim Schantz when he got back to the office for the drunk-dials at two a.m. Ohio time.
Predictably, Kimber’s voice mail picked up. He thought about hanging up. There was at least one sober brain cell shouting about how this wasn’t the best time to leave a message, but he ignored it.
“Kimber,” he started, his tongue tripping over her name. “Hi. It’s Landon.” He let out a mirthless laugh. Yeah. This was going well already. “I called because… well, I shouldn’t be calling. I know that. But I’ve been drinking and scotch makes me brave. Or stupid. Or a combination of brave and stupid. Anyway.” He scrubbed his eyes under his glasses. “I don’t want an arrang… a harrang… a contract with you. I want a life with you. And yes, I’ve had too much to drink, but the reason I drank is because of you. Not that it’s your fault, but I love you. That probably is your fault. You’re lovable.” He stumbled over that word, too. He licked his dry mouth and drank down another mouthful of scotch.
“I love you and it’s killing me to stay away from you,” he admitted. “I didn’t want Rachel to have the abortion. It was finals week and I was focused on school, and she was upset and ignoring me. I went to her, Kimber, with a fucking baby name book and a bouquet of the ugliest flowers in the world. I was going to make it work, become a family. She took it away from me. She took that future away from me. I was too late.”
The Millionaire Affair (Love in the Balance) Page 23
