Trivial Pursuits (Chicago On Ice Book 2)

by Aven Ellis

  And then Landon turns and storms out, leaving me behind.

  The second Landon walks away I know he’s right.

  He’s right about everything.

  A wave of nausea rolls over me as I hear his words in my head. I never should have accused him of anything. I suddenly grasp how badly my relationship with Troy has clouded my thoughts.

  Landon is not Troy.

  Troy never spoke to me in the way Landon just did. Landon gave me an impassioned speech about all the things he likes about me, in a way that showed how much he cares. That his feelings are intense and new to him, too, just like they are to me.

  He likes me as much as I like him.

  And from the tortured expression that filled his blue eyes when I spat out my accusation at him, I know he would never cheat on me. The fact that I accused him of something with Kayla hurt him.

  Tears fill my eyes, and my jewelry supplies blur in my vision. Yes, he has a past. But it was never one of cheating. Flirting, going from girl to girl—yes. Like a lot of single guys do.

  But nothing to deserve my paranoia over one phone call.

  I quickly gather up my stuff, putting it back into my toolbox. I blink back tears. So I might have to get here at five in the morning tomorrow to work on these dog tags, but I don’t care. I have to see Landon. This apology needs to be done in person, not with a text or a social media PM.

  I shrug into my coat, my heart squeezing painfully inside my chest as I do. I need to find him and tell him this is all my past rearing its ugly head. That I see this so clearly now. And I’ll swear to him I’ll never doubt him like this again.

  If Landon is willing to take another chance on me, that is.

  Panic grips me as I flee the guild. What if he refuses my apology? What if my words have cut too deeply?

  I shake the doubt from my head. I don’t need doubt right now. I need to find Landon, apologize, and hope that he can see that while I’m capable of being a complete idiot, I’m also capable of owning up to my mistakes.

  I tug my hat on my head and push the door open to step outside.

  And I’m shocked to find Landon coming back up the sidewalk.

  Snow has started to fall again, cascading around him in the swirling wind. He freezes the second he sees me, and my heart beats wildly against my ribs.

  I stay rooted to my spot, unable to move.

  Landon came back for me.

  “I’m still pissed off,” Landon says, his words escaping into the frozen air. “Don’t think because I’m here means I’m okay with what happened. I’m not.”

  “You have every right to be mad at me,” I admit, shame filling me.

  “Fucking pissed is more like it.”

  I nod. I slowly approach him, keeping my gloved hand gripped around my toolbox. I stop in front of him, gazing up into his eyes, which haven’t softened.

  But he’s here, which tells me everything I need to know.

  “Landon,” I say softly, “I’m so sorry. What I thought—it’s not about you, it’s about me. It’s about my own insecurity about what happened with Troy.”

  “I’m not Troy,” he snaps angrily.

  “You’re right. You’re not. You’re nothing like him. And you didn’t deserve me leaping to conclusions like that,” I say. I hesitate for a moment before speaking. “I’m sorry. I should have told you what I was feeling instead of letting my fears take over my thoughts.”

  Landon stares at me, and I see his facial expression soften a bit. “Fears?”

  I decide I’m going be honest with him. No more hiding what I feel.

  “I like you a lot,” I admit softly, my cheeks growing warm despite the Midwestern cold. “I know we haven’t had more than a few dates, but I like you. It’s ridiculous how much I like you, Landon.”

  His facial expression changes. The anger has dissipated and is replaced by a look of surprise.

  “I haven’t wanted to put my faith in another man until I met you,” I admit. “But I knew I wanted to the moment we started talking at school. You changed that. And when I saw Kayla’s name on your phone, when I remembered how comfortable she was with you, it made me uneasy. And when you said she was a friend, everything Troy ever said to me came roaring back. He used to say that whenever a girl would call—that they were simply friends. That I was crazy. Paranoid. That he would never cheat on me. And it was all a lie.”

  I stop speaking and draw a breath of the frosty air before continuing. “Fear drove me to jump to the wrong conclusion,” I admit quietly. “I’m ashamed of that. There’s no excuse for it. I was wrong. I admit that, and if you want to see me again after this, I promise I’ll never do it again. I do trust you. Completely.”

  Landon doesn’t speak. His eyes remain locked on mine, reflecting nothing. Cold fear surges through me. Am I reading his reason for coming back wrong? Did he come back to tell me to never talk to him again?

  “I meant what I said,” Landon finally says. “It scares me how much I like you. I’ve never liked any woman the way I like you.”

  He steps forward, closing the gap between us. Then he lifts a gloved hand to my cheek, and I relish the feel of the leather against my skin.

  “I promise you I will never cheat on you, Livy. Or lie to you. Ever. Kayla is a friend. She needs someone to talk to about things going on with Ben. I listen, because I don’t think she has anyone else to turn to.” Landon falls silent for a moment. “Maybe if someone had shown this kindness to my mother, things would have been different for her. I couldn’t give my mom what she needed back then. But I can be a friend to people who need one now.”

  Suddenly I realize what he’s doing. Landon’s guilt over not being able to help his mom has deep roots in the man he has become. If a woman needs support, he will give it to her because he couldn’t help his own mother.

  And with those heartfelt words that reveal another vulnerable piece of himself to me, I hand over another piece of my heart to Landon.

  “You’re a good man,” I say, my voice thick. “Kayla is lucky to have you for a friend. But I’m luckier to have you as Landon.”

  “You do,” Landon whispers, stroking my face. “You do have me, Livy.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say again. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I understand it now,” Landon says. “And I forgive you.”

  He draws me into his chest, and his comforting scent of leather and vanilla wraps around me like a blanket. I close my eyes and breathe him in, pressing my cheek to his wool coat, feeling his arms wrap around me.

  “Livy?”

  “Mmmmm?”

  “Can I use the torch now?”

  I can’t help it. A giggle escapes my throat, and I hear Landon’s rich laugh fill the air around us.

  I step back so I can gaze up at him. “Your heart will be broken if I don’t show you how to use the torch, won’t it?”

  “I don’t know if I could move past the crushing disappointment,” Landon teases.

  “Come on. Let’s go use a torch,” I say, wrapping my hand over his.

  As we step back toward the guild, I feel more confident than ever in what we have together. We had a fight, but we worked it out. We allowed ourselves to be vulnerable with each other.

  Kayla won’t be a problem. Sure, I have a feeling she likes Landon, but the feeling isn’t mutual.

  Landon likes me. So no matter what Kayla wants from him, she won’t get it.

  I’m sure of it.

  Chapter 18

  TriviaPlayOrPass!

  True or false: The most dangerous shark in the world is the great white shark. DesignerA, play or pass to Scott921?

  I sit in my basement studio, affixing the shark fin I made for Landon to the leather braided rope bracelet I made. It’s a design I had in my
head since our date at the Shedd, and I created it with him in mind. In fact, I plan to give it to him tonight after the Buffaloes game.

  Taylor Swift’s voice swirls in the air around me, singing “Love Story” as I work on his piece. I chose to fill the center of the fin with a beautiful blue sea glass, one that matches the color of his eyes. I did all of this after Landon left yesterday, as he had a photoshoot to go to. He recently signed a deal to be a spokesperson for a high-end shampoo, and they were shooting photos of him for print ads that afternoon.

  It’s so funny. I never dreamed of his work schedule outside of hockey. Landon has press obligations. Charity functions. Photo shoots, commercial tapings, meetings with his agent and publicist. I know he has a game tonight, then on Wednesday he’s back at the school for his volunteer work that he does with me. Thursday he has a game and immediately after that he’s flying out to the East Coast for a four-day road trip.

  I finish the bracelet and examine it, happy it turned out so well. I know Landon will love it. Underneath that tattooed, flirty badass hockey player is a true romantic at heart, and he will appreciate this bracelet and the sentiment behind it.

  Buzz!

  I glance over at my phone and see it’s a text message from Collins:

  Please don’t kill me but Alessandra hates all your designs.

  Ughhhhhhhhhhhh. My stomach tightens. I had taken pictures of sample ones I had made for Collins, in addition to sending over some drawings for others last night for her meeting this morning. I had hoped she would find one or two acceptable as a starting point.

  Apparently I was delusional to think that would happen.

  I pick up my phone and text her back:

  It’s okay. Does she have feedback for me?

  I wait for Collins to reply, which she does:

  Um you don’t want to know.

  Oh, I so want to know and text Collins as much. I wait, and finally her response comes back:

  Her words: “Is she capable of elevating beyond an elementary level art class project design?”

  My jaw drops open. I’m so stunned I can’t process a response.

  It’s one thing if she doesn’t like my designs. I’m an artist, I understand that. Of course I want her to love them. I do. But I know art is subjective and what one person adores, another might hate.

  But to insult me like this? Why can’t she simply say she doesn’t like them? Why does she have to be such a bitch about it? Is respect dead?

  Gah.

  I know this is part of being an artist. I’ve had my work critiqued by classmates, professors, and contest judges. I need to let it roll off my back.

  I move over to my computer and find “Shake It Off” on my playlist. Obviously this is going to be my mantra for dealing with Alessandra.

  That or envision dropping the gloves like Landon and punching princess in the nose.

  Okay, Landon’s way is infinitely better than mine.

  I pick up the phone and call Collins. She explains—in detail—the vision Alessandra has for the tags and how I should move forward. Of course, this involves coming up with a logo for Prince George and his monogram.

  After I hang up, I decide I need some fresh air. I need to get out, clear my head, and get rid of the anger so I can attack the project with a new vision.

  Starbucks. I’ll venture out and get a skinny white latte.

  I pick up my phone and trot up the basement stairs. I open the door into the kitchen to find my mom dumping things into the crock-pot and my nana sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee.

  “I’m heading out to Starbucks,” I say, stepping into the mudroom and taking my parka off the peg rack. “Do you guys want anything?”

  “I have my coffee,” Nana says, nodding.

  I smile as I reach for my scarf. Nana loves her Café Francois and never deviates from her powdered mix.

  “Okay,” I say, winding my scarf around my neck. “Mom? Would you like a tea?”

  “Oh, maybe a green tea,” Mom says, pondering. “That would be nice.”

  “You got it,” I say, grinning at her.

  “Are you meeting Landy?” Nana asks, lifting an eyebrow at me.

  I’m about to answer when my mom speaks up.

  “He’s at practice right now,” Mom says, chopping up some carrots and dropping them into the pot.

  I pause for a moment. “How do you know he’s at practice?”

  Mom casually shrugs as she chops up another carrot. “Landy told me. I sent him a Connectivity PM about Jewel having a sale,” she says easily, referring to a grocery store chain in Chicago. “I suggested he pick up some things that I saw coupons for in the paper the other day.”

  What? Wait. What? “Mom! You’re messaging Landon? About coupons?”

  Mom puts down her knife and stares at me. “It’s no big deal, he accepted my Connect request,” she explains.

  Nana snorts with laughter, and Mom shoots her a look.

  “What? What is wrong with being friends with my daughter’s boyfriend?”

  “Jennifer, the poor child is mortified. What if Landy is simply a hook up?” Nana asks, shifting her attention to me. “It’s the modern age. Women can get what they want with no strings attached.”

  Then she winks at me.

  Ack!

  I feel my cheeks burn hot. “Mom, you’ve probably freaked Landon out. He doesn’t date. At all. And now he’s had a few dates with me and you’re messaging him on Connectivity?”

  “Go ahead,” Nana says, pausing to take a sip of coffee, “tell her how you are following him on Instagram, too.”

  “What?” I gasp. “Oh no. He’s going to run screaming from me!”

  “You’re being ridiculous,” my mom declares. “Honey, Landy’s a sweetheart. He was very happy to receive my coupon tips.”

  Uggggggggggggggggggggh.

  “So you haven’t slept with him?” Nana asks.

  My face is on fire. “Um, no.”

  Both Mom and Nana stare at me in surprise.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask. “I’m not into hook ups. We’re going out, that’s all.”

  And if I ever thought I’d be standing in my kitchen talking about hooking up with Landon Holder with my mother and Nana, I would have sworn I’d have a better shot at becoming a supermodel and walking the catwalk for Chanel during Fashion Week in New York.

  A thoughtful expression passes over Mom’s face. “He really likes you.”

  “He does,” Nana chimes in. “This is a sign. Actually, the fact that he is talking to your mother about coupons is a sign, but the no sex yet? You’ll marry this one,” she says firmly. “Mark my words. Landy is The One.”

  Mortification takes a backseat to my heart. Okay, so we’ve only gone out a few times. It could all end tomorrow or a month from now or two years from now. I don’t know anything for sure.

  But I do know, my heart contends.

  Landon is special. My missing puzzle piece. I have a strong feeling we are meant to be and that is where this is going.

  “We’re taking our time,” I say, keeping my thoughts to myself. “So far it’s been good. Very good,” I say happily.

  “I’m glad,” my mom says, coming over to me and giving me a hug. “I love the light in your eyes, Livy. And if Landy is the one who has brought it back in you, I’m happy.”

  Joy radiates through me as I step back from her. “I’m happy, Mom. I really am.”

  She smiles at me, and I clear my throat. “Okay, I’ll be right back with tea.”

  I bound out of the kitchen and out the back door, to the driveway. It didn’t snow overnight, thank goodness, so I slip behind the wheel to my SUV and start the car, my teeth chattering from the cold. As I wait for my car
to warm up, my phone buzzes inside my purse.

  I reach in and retrieve it, and my heart leaps when I see the message is from Landon:

  Finished practice. Want to come over for lunch and take a nap with me?

  Hmmm. Obviously Mom’s Connectivity requests and couponing discussions haven’t scared him off. I grin happily and text him back:

  You need a nap more than you need to make out with me.

  And as much as I’d love nothing more than to spend the afternoon taking a nap in Landon’s arms, I can’t. For one thing, I have work to do. I’m not going to move out of my parents’ home by blowing off work and not re-working client designs, no matter how ridiculous the client is.

  Of course, there’s also the issue that we wouldn’t spend much time napping but making out, which wouldn’t help Landon at all. Hockey players, I have discovered, take naps so they are well rested before hitting the ice in such a physically demanding game. So he needs sleep.

  Damn it.

  Landon replies:

  Who is the one suggesting we make out? YOU. I said NAP. You obviously can’t keep your hands off me. Which is a quality I like about you, by the way.

  My face burns hot as Landon ends his text with a string of emojis, ranging from kissing lips to a winking smiley face to a sleeping face with ‘zzzz’ on it.

  I reply:

  Stop it.

  Landon immediately responds:

  Are you turning red? Do you have that cute crease on the bridge of your nose? I plan to kiss that later BTW. Among other things.

  Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh my.