Stuck Landing

by Lauren Gallagher

  “Yes. I know. That’s why I—”

  “I’m not finished,” he said tersely. “Anna, you need to trust Natalya the way you’d trust any other woman—that she’s not going to run off on you with anyone, male or female. That no matter who catches her eye or turns her head, she’s still going to come back to you because she loves you and because she says she will.”

  He paused. “You remember those dark days many years ago when we tried to date each other?” He offered a slight, if uneasy smirk, as if to let me know it was okay to laugh.

  I tried but failed. “Yeah. I remember.”

  “And why didn’t it work out?”

  Hugging myself, I kept my gaze down. “Because we’re both gay.”

  “Exactly. You couldn’t change it. I couldn’t change it. And Natalya can’t change her sexuality either. I mean, you can’t imagine being attracted to a man, but can you imagine not being attracted to women?”

  I hesitated but looked at him. “No.” God, fuck you, Levi. I don’t need you to be right. Just let me . . . be miserable and stupid. Releasing my breath, I stared down at the ratty carpet. “No, I can’t.”

  “And do you think I can imagine not being attracted to a man?” He touched my arm. “So it’s not exactly fair to expect Natalya to—”

  “It’s not that I expect her to only be attracted to women.” I shrugged out of his grasp and met his gaze. “I just can’t be with a woman who’s also attracted to men.”

  Levi exhaled hard. “Anna . . .” He shook his head. “Seriously. Do you hear yourself?”

  “I hear myself just fine!”

  “Do you? Then how is what you’re doing any better than what homophobes have done to us over the years?”

  “What?” I sputtered, and hoisted myself off the desk. “I am not being homophobic, I—”

  “No, you’re being biphobic.”

  I glared at him. “You know damn well I’m not.”

  Levi arched an eyebrow, and a note of irritation worked its way into his voice. “Actually, you are. And I say this as someone who is bisexual.”

  My jaw fell open. “You— What?”

  “Does that change anything about me? About how likely I am to make things work with Carter?”

  “But you . . .” I sputtered. “You never told me . . .”

  “Because I know how you feel about bisexuals.”

  My heart sank. “Oh my God. Levi. I am so sorry. I . . .”

  “It’s not a big deal,” he said. “I’m with Carter, and whether or not I’d ever date a woman again is a moot point. Because I have no desire to be with anyone but him. Which is why I think all of your arguments against dating Natalya pretty much boil down to biphobic bullshit.”

  I leaned against my desk, rubbing a hand over my face. “Wow.”

  “Because that’s what it is.” His voice was gentler now. “Think about it. How is refusing to date a bi woman—based on assumptions and stereotypes—not biphobic?”

  “It’s . . .” I dropped my hand. “I am so sorry.”

  “I know. And I know you’re just trying to protect yourself.” He squeezed my arm. “If you don’t want to date her, then don’t. But quit hiding behind her sexuality and admit the real reason.”

  I swallowed. “I assume you think you know the real reason?”

  “I’m pretty damn sure I do.”

  Through my teeth, I said, “Well . . .?”

  “Because you’re insecure. Her attraction to men is something you can’t control. You can’t compete with a man the same way you can compete with a woman. So, in your mind, that means—”

  “Isn’t that a reasonable thing to be concerned about?”

  “No.” His brow pinched slightly, and his voice was gentle as he said, “By your logic, Natalya’s ex could say he lost his girlfriend to a lesbian.”

  I shifted my weight, the floorboards creaking beneath the carpet. “He . . . Yeah. He could.” Or he could say he lost her to being an asshole.

  Kind of like I’m . . .

  I cringed. Fuck.

  “The thing is,” Levi went on, “if someone’s going to cheat, or if they’re going to leave because they think the grass is greener, then they’re going to. It doesn’t make a difference if they’re chasing someone with more money, or a different figure, or a different set of plumbing.” He gestured at me. “What you’re doing is killing any chance of that relationship even happening so you don’t have to be worried about what you can’t control. Which, well, kind of makes sense coming from you.”

  I stiffened, clenching my teeth. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you have to be in control. That’s always been you.”

  “What? I do not.”

  He chuckled. “Please. You’re a director and a producer. You’re basically one coup and a fancy uniform away from being the dictator of a small country.”

  A laugh burst out of me. “I’m not that . . . I mean, I don’t . . .”

  The skepticism in his eyes shut me up.

  I cleared my throat. “I think you’ve got me confused with Natalya.”

  He shook his head slowly, eyes never leaving mine. “Natalya’s blunt and doesn’t take any shit from people, but you’re literally the one running the show out there. That takes a certain kind of person. You’ve always had a need to be in control. It’s perfect for your profession, but it’s disastrous for your relationships.” He inclined his head, and his brow creased. “Look what happened with Leigh.”

  I flinched.

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “You know I’m not saying this to rub salt in the wound, but you really need to look at what happened between the two of you.”

  “So you’re saying the breakup was my fault?”

  “I’m saying your personalities were like oil and water. She contributed her fair share to fucking things up, but come on, Anna.” His brow creased. “Think about it. You’ve ruled everything in your life with an iron fist. Including Leigh. And if you don’t fix this, it’s going to drive away the woman I think we both know you love.”

  As his words sank in, my heart sank too.

  “And if I know you,” he said, “there is nothing in the world that scares you more than feeling this strongly for someone and not being able to control the outcome.”

  “It’s terrifying,” I said, barely whispering.

  “It is. I mean, there are literally millions of people out there—men and women—who want Carter. Believe me, I could drive myself insane if I spent any time in certain corners of social media.” He paused. “Hell, there’s an entire site out there devoted to Carter-Ari fanfic, not to mention Carter-with-anyone-other-than-me fanfic.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep.”

  “Doesn’t that bother you?”

  “Why should it?” He shrugged. “It’s other people’s fantasies. And besides, I trust Carter. That’s all I have to do. People can pursue him, send him love letters, flirt with him, but I know that at the end of the day, Carter’s coming home to me.” He inclined his head. “And despite the fact that I’m bi, he trusts me.”

  I broke eye contact, chewing the inside of my lip.

  “I know it’s terrifying.” He touched my shoulder. “But you can’t control her any more than I can control Carter. You just have to trust her. And a lesbian could cheat on you just as easily as a bisexual woman.”

  “I know. I know, but . . .” I exhaled and ran my fingers through my hair as I slumped against my desk again. “But there’s so much more to it. Being in a hetero relationship is so much easier than being in a queer one. How do I know she won’t—”

  “Stop,” he said gently. “You’ll drive yourself insane asking how do you know she won’t do this or she will do that. That’s part of what it means to be in a relationship with someone. Relinquishing that control and saying, ‘I can’t control you, I can’t watch your every move, but I trust you.’”

  I kept my gaze down. I’d never quite figured out how to hold on
to a relationship. Letting go of someone, and somehow believing they’d come back—that was the hard part, wasn’t it?

  Levi took my hand. “Anna, you will never be in complete control of a relationship. And quite honestly, I don’t think you’d ever be happy in a relationship where you were.”

  I looked at him. “What do you mean?”

  He smiled. “I know you. You like a challenge. You like people who have opinions and minds of their own. Anyone else bores you to death.” The smile fell. “But being with someone like that means loosening the reins, or you’re both going to be miserable.” He squeezed my arm. “You remember that speech Carter gave at the wedding?”

  “How could I forget?”

  He tipped my chin up so our eyes met. “So you remember what he said about things that could’ve happened to keep him and me from ever crossing paths? All the ways it could’ve just . . . never happened?”

  I nodded as much as I could with his finger beneath my jaw.

  “So think of all the ways you and Natalya could have never found each other. But you did.” He lowered his hand. “I don’t know if it’s fate or not. All I know is you found this amazing woman who’s everything you want except for one minor detail—and don’t argue with me, Anna. It is a minor detail.” He arched his eyebrow, daring me to argue with him anyway. When I didn’t speak, he went on. “She’s perfect for you. She makes you so weak in the knees I can see it from a mile away. There’s no telling if it’ll work out in the long run, but why would you give it up? Maybe it isn’t meant to be, but it’s trying pretty damned hard to be. If you keep fighting it until you lose her forever, then I’d bet good money you’ll be regretting it just like I would’ve regretted losing Carter.”

  I avoided his eyes.

  “You said yourself that there’s no such thing as a perfect relationship,” he said. “Right there at my wedding. Everything you said about me and Carter having what you aspire to have?” He waved a hand toward the door. “You have it, Anna. All you have to do is stop making excuses, let your guard down, and let yourself be in love with her.”

  The last few words hit me in the chest. As much as I’d tried to hide behind the anger, I did still love her. I’d fallen hard for her. And as much as it scared the hell out of me, I wanted her back, risk and all.

  My shoulders sank. “God, you’re right. Fuck, I . . . can’t believe . . .”

  He drew me in and hugged me gently.

  “What do I do?” I hated how pitiful I sounded. “She’s already forgiven me for this shit once. I can’t really ask her to do it again.”

  “You can always ask.” He released me, but kept his hands on my shoulders and looked me right in the eye. “I’m going to give you the same advice you give me whenever I fuck up with Carter.” He squeezed gently. “Talk to her. Tell her where you’re coming from.”

  “And if she won’t hear me out?”

  “Then that’s out of your hands.”

  I cringed. “That’s . . . not encouraging.”

  “No, but it’s the reality of the situation. The only thing you have control over right now is whether you take the step to talk to her. If she listens, what she does with what you have to say . . .” He shook his head. “You just have to leave that in her hands.”

  And I . . . couldn’t argue with that, could I? Trust Levi to know exactly what to say. There were few men in my life who could tell me to pull my head out of my ass without being condescending about it. Without mansplaining. But Levi and I were close enough that neither of us minced words. God knew I verbally smacked him around whenever he screwed up with Carter, which he did with some regularity. Apparently turnabout was fair play.

  “You’re right,” I whispered. “I’ll . . . I’ll go talk to her.”

  “Good luck,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  Now I just had to hope I hadn’t used up the last of Natalya’s goodwill.

  Natalya conveniently wasn’t available. Whenever I tried to pull her aside, she had somewhere else she had to be. She sent my calls to voice mail. She read my texts, but didn’t respond. At work, she spoke to me when our jobs required it, but the second I tried to ask her for a moment to talk, she vanished.

  In theory, I could have called her into my office, or demanded she stay after a meeting. But abusing my power and forcing her to talk to me didn’t really seem like the right foot to start off the discussion we needed to have.

  Every day, I alternated between avoiding her and wanting to cross paths with her. Every night, I lay awake, trying like hell to conjure a solution. For a fucking week, in between stressing about my job and trying not to collapse, I agonized over everything.

  After yet another sleepless night and a few gallons of coffee, I sat at my desk, staring at a stack of scripts and blocking and whatever else, and all I could think of was Natalya. Natalya, and the conversation I’d had with Levi right in front of the desk where I was currently tearing out my hair.

  This had to stop. I was losing my mind. Eventually, it was going to start taking a toll on my work—as it was, I barely functioned, though I managed to fumble through everything on autopilot. No one lasted in this business without learning how to bring their A game when they were running on fumes.

  But I was running out of fumes at this point, and I was just plain going crazy. Natalya hated me. She had every right to hate me. And somehow, I needed to find a way to fix what I’d done.

  All right. Enough of this shit.

  Before I could talk myself out of it, I got up, walked out of my office, and made a beeline for Soundstage Two. Jeremy was behind me, almost running across the gravel to keep up, as I went looking for Natalya.

  All I needed to do was get her alone for a few minutes. That should have been easy, but it definitely wasn’t. Natalya had had a couple of meetings before she had to be on set, but she may as well have teleported into them and back out again—I’d waited for her, but she’d slipped past me while I wasn’t looking.

  I looked at the schedule to see when the next stunt was being set up, and apparently she was over on Soundstage One instead of Two like I’d thought, so I headed over there. She was there, thank God. While the crew made some adjustments, I went straight over to where Natalya was having an animated conversation with two of the stuntmen. When they finished and started to walk away, I jumped at the chance.

  “Hey,” I said. “Can we talk?”

  She didn’t even acknowledge me. Instead, she turned and walked away.

  “Natalya?”

  She kept walking.

  “Natalya!”

  No response.

  For fuck’s sake. I jogged after her. “Natalya, wait.”

  She spun around, glaring at me with enough venom to stop me in my tracks.

  “Please.” I glanced around, then met her gaze. “Can we talk? For a few minutes?”

  Her features hardened, which I didn’t think was possible at that point. “Why? So I can hear more about—”

  “Natalya, please.”

  Lips thinning into a bleached line, she stared back at me, but didn’t speak.

  “I just want to talk.” God, I sounded so pathetic and feeble. “That’s all.”

  Natalya swallowed. Slowly, she lifted her chin and pushed her shoulders back. Sharply, barely moving her lips, she said, “Not here. Not at work.”

  “Then . . .” I braced myself. “Where? When?”

  She watched me for a moment, and I wondered if she was just trying to formulate the most effective way to remind me that I could go fuck myself.

  Finally, she rolled her eyes. “Tonight. Your place.”

  I nodded. “Okay. I leave here . . .” I glanced at my watch and panicked momentarily because I was sure now that I’d taken my eyes off her, she’d vanish, but when I looked up, she was still there. “I should be done around eight.”

  Natalya exhaled slowly through her nose. “Nine for me.”

  “So, I’ll see you around . . .”

  “Ten.”


  “Okay. Ten. Great.”

  She turned and stalked off, and as I watched her go, I gulped.

  It wasn’t much, but it was a start. One shot. One Hail Mary, and then I had no doubt the door was closed forever.

  Please, God, let me unfuck this . . .

  She wasn’t coming.

  It was well past eleven now, and according to Levi’s texts, the stunts for the day were long finished.

  I eyed the bottle of Baileys on the counter. I’d had a splash of it in some coffee earlier, but hadn’t indulged beyond that because I needed to be coherent. Now I wished I had. At least I’d been smart enough not to break out the bottle of Cuervo. I didn’t need that. Not when salt and lime and tequila reminded me too much of Natalya. And not when they’d make me too stupid to try to win her back.

  Which didn’t matter because—

  Headlights came in through the kitchen window and arced across the wall. Instantly, my heart was thumping. She came?

  I craned my neck, and sure enough, her car was in front of my garage. She killed the lights, and when she got out, my pulse soared. She wasn’t happy about this—her features were hard and her gait was fast and pissed off—but she was here. Good enough.

  I opened the door before she could knock. For a second, our eyes met across the threshold, but I tore my gaze away before I could even read if hers was filled with hostility, uncertainty, or anything else she might’ve brought along tonight.

  As I shut the door behind us, I croaked, “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Of course you are. We both are. That’s why we’re here.

  Fuck, this is going to be fun . . .

  We took seats on the couch, with a cushion-wide buffer between us, and uncomfortable silence settled in. My living room was about ten degrees colder now that she was in here. Hard to believe this was where we’d started. Where the tequila had burned away her inhibitions and my reservations, and we’d kicked off a hot night with a kiss I swore I could still feel on my lips.

  Eventually, Natalya said, “You wanted to talk, yes?”

  I nodded and met her gaze, studying her rock-hard expression. “Yeah. I’m . . . Look, I’m not very good at this.” I braced for a snide remark about how apparent that was, but it didn’t come. Natalya’s features didn’t move, and her eyes remained blank. I wasn’t sure what to make of that—if I was relieved there were no shots fired, or even more apprehensive because there was no room for humor or sarcasm right now.