by T. K. Leigh
“Will do.”
She turns, making her way through the dining room and toward the sushi bar where the other thirty-something-year-old women she came in with are now sitting.
“Ready?” Londyn asks in a curt tone.
“Right. Of course.” I rush to the door, opening it for her.
A tense silence settles between us as I walk Londyn to my car, then navigate the few miles to her condo. I try to make conversation, but she doesn’t seem interested in talking. It’s a stark contrast from the lighthearted atmosphere we’ve enjoyed all day. I have a feeling it has something to do with the fact I introduced her as my interior designer. Maybe I should have said friend, but the truth is, I don’t know if we are friends. Don’t know if she’ll keep spending time with me after the renovation is done. And if I’m being honest with myself, that’s why I’ve been dragging it out. Why I took today off. We’re probably only a few weeks away from finishing. And the thought of no longer having an excuse to see Londyn guts me.
When I pull up in front of her place, I start to get out of the car to open her door for her, but she beats me to it.
“I can get it myself.” She cracks the door open and jumps down before facing me, but she doesn’t exactly look at me. “What time tomorrow, boss?”
I wince, officially regretting my decision to introduce her as my interior designer. I should have known better.
“Maybe we can do something else again?” I suggest, hoping she’ll take my peace offering. “Maybe go to the SweetWater Brewery or something?”
“I think it’s better if we just work on the house. Since I’m your interior designer.”
“Londyn…” I sigh. “I—”
“No,” she cuts me off, holding up her hand. “It’s okay. I am just your interior designer. And as your interior designer, I’d like to get this project finished so I can move on.”
I narrow my eyes, wanting to ask her if that’s truly what she wants. Not just to finish the project, but if she really wants to only be my interior designer. But I don’t.
“Nine o’clock okay? I can come get you around eight. I’m staying in town tonight and will head down in the morning.”
“That’s not necessary. I’ll drive myself.”
My lips part, and I’m on the verge of insisting to the contrary. But I don’t want to press my luck. I promised I wouldn’t push her. So I don’t.
“Okay. Good night, Londyn.”
“Good night.” She starts to close the door, but stops. “And thanks for today,” she adds.
I nod. “Any time.”
Her gaze remains locked on mine for a protracted moment, as if she wants to say something more. But in true Londyn fashion, she seems to talk herself out of whatever it is.
Closing the door, she turns from me, hurrying up the walkway. When she disappears into the house without a single glance back, I expel a breath, resting my head on the steering wheel. How did I manage to fuck up what was nearly the perfect day? Will Londyn ever realize she deserves more than what she’s afforded herself?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Londyn
I collapse onto my couch, burying my head in my hands, wondering how today could have gone from being one of the best days I’ve had in a while to…whatever it was at the end.
I’d been enjoying Wes’ presence. So much so that I didn’t want our day to end. Then Sophia approached with her lush, brown hair, heart-stopping smile, and gorgeous body. Her gorgeous, white body. They looked perfect together. Like a real couple. It didn’t help that they share a history and an obvious fondness for one another, even after not having seen each other in quite some time.
I shouldn’t have been jealous. I never made any promises to Wes. In fact, I specifically made him promise he wouldn’t wait around for me to sort out my shit. That he’d date other women if the opportunity arose.
But now the idea of Wes dating another woman isn’t simply the abstract notion it’s been the past few months. It can happen. I witnessed it myself.
Do I really want him to meet Sophia for coffee or drinks? What if drinks lead to dinner? What if dinner leads to something…more? Am I really willing to stand aside and watch that happen? I thought I was. I thought that was what I wanted.
Now the mere notion of someone else enjoying his kisses is like a vice squeezing my heart.
In the midst of my confusion and misery, my door flings open, as I should have expected. I snap my head up, a part of me wishing it were Wes calling me out on my bullshit. Instead, Hazel flies into my condo, her eyes alight with excitement. I’m assuming she saw him pick me up early this morning, then just drop me off. Or perhaps her husband, Diego, did. It doesn’t matter. That’s the thing about living next door to someone. They know all your secrets, whether you want them to or not.
“So how was your day?” She sits beside me, practically bouncing in her seat.
“Good,” I reply with a smile, before my expression falls. “Then horrible.”
She stops bouncing. “What happened? How did it go from good to horrible?”
“Wes surprised me with a trip to the flea market.”
“Aww…” She collapses against the cushions, placing her hand over her heart as she feigns swooning. “To most people, I’d say to ditch the schmuck. But knowing you, I’d say that’s the perfect day.”
“It was,” I agree. “Yet another reminder that when I talk, Wes actually listens.”
“Trust me. That counts for a lot these days. I can’t tell you how many men I’ve seen out on dates whose faces were buried in their cell phones. If all they wanted to do was look at their phone the entire time, they should have just stayed home.”
“I rarely see Wes look at his phone around me,” I remark thoughtfully. “Unless it rings and it’s work-related, he ignores it. But so did Jay.”
“And Wes isn’t Jay,” she admonishes. “Say it.”
I roll my eyes. “Wes isn’t Jay.”
“Try it again. With meaning this time.”
“Wes isn’t Jay,” I repeat, this time louder.
“Good. Now, where did you go after the flea market? As much as you love those, I doubt you spent twelve hours there.”
“He took me to the art museum to check out a new exhibit I’d mentioned I wanted to see. Then we grabbed some sushi. Which is where we ran into this gorgeous brunette he was friends with as a kid. When he introduced me, he called me his interior designer.”
“But isn’t that what you are?” she asks in faux confusion, an expression that screams “I told you so” written on her face.
“I—”
“Didn’t you specifically tell him that’s all you wanted to be?” She crosses her arms in front of her chest.
“Yeah, but—”
“Then what did you expect, Londyn?”
“I don’t know.” I dig my fingers into my hair, feeling like a pre-teen obsessing over a single word the object of her affection said when passing each other in the hallway. Instead, I’m a twenty-seven-year-old woman obsessing over the man who’s become an everyday part of my life labeling me as I insisted he do. “Maybe for him to introduce me as a friend.”
“Or maybe you wish you were more than a friend.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I retort, avoiding her analytical stare. “Like I told him, I’m not ready for a relationship. Not right now. Maybe not ever.”
She remains silent for what seems like an eternity. “Can I be blunt for a moment?”
I snort. “Since when do you ask permission?”
“Figured it would be the polite thing to do. Because I’m calling you out, Lo. This excuse you’ve been giving him is bull-fucking-shit, and you know it.”
“No, it’s not. I—”
“It’s the same excuse you’ve given to every other guy you’ve brought home, but I kept my mouth shut because I could tell whatever was going on in those relationships was one-sided. That you didn’t feel that extra oomph you needed. And that’s okay. But with this guy? Tha
t’s not the case at all. You feel it. The spark. The electricity. The all-consuming yearning.”
“Despite what you think you know about me, I’m not lying when I say I’m still sorting out my shit.”
“Jesus Christ, Londyn.” Throwing up her hands, she jumps to her feet. “Haven’t you figured it out by now? We’re all sorting out our shit. There is not one person walking this earth who has their shit together. I don’t know what happened to make you think you needed to achieve some sort of idyllic level of perfection before you allowed yourself to be with someone else, but if you wait for that, you’re going to be waiting for the rest of your life.”
“I’m not waiting for perfection. I’m just trying to not be as broken.”
“You are not broken.” She rushes back to the couch, her eyes awash with sincerity and empathy as she grips my biceps. “You need to stop letting what happened to you dictate the rest of your life. It sucks. I get it. And I can’t even imagine what it must have felt like for your own father and husband to dismiss your claims as lies. But that doesn’t mean everyone else is going to toss you out, too. Anyone worth your time will love every part of you. Even the fractured bits. The flawed bits. The dark bits. Because I’ll tell you something… Those dark pieces of your soul that you think make you broken and unlovable? That’s what’s given you the strength to be where you are today. Be who you are today.”
I swallow hard, unsure how to respond to Hazel’s passionate plea. She’s always been the one voice of reason in my life. I’m not sure I’m ready to take the last leap of faith I need, knowing how debilitating the fall can be when it doesn’t work out.
“Tell me what’s really holding you back, Lo.”
“This thing with Wes is scary,” I admit softly. “Petrifying.”
“Now that I can work with.”
She drops her hold on me, settling back into the couch. “Tell Dr. Garcia,” she mimics in a horrific German accent, making me laugh. “What scares you about the prospect of forming a relationship with Weston?”
I throw a pillow at her. “I can’t take you seriously when you talk like that.”
“Fine.” Huffing, she flashes me a smile. “What scares you about this?” she asks in her normal voice.
“Falling and him not being there when I hit bottom. When I need him the most.”
“And I understand that. But let me ask you something. You told him everything that happened with Jay and your ex, and he didn’t run for the hills. Did he?”
“No. Just the opposite.”
“And these past few months, you’ve spent a lot of time with Wes, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And not just at the house during renovations. You’ve done other things, too, correct?”
“Yes.”
“What kinds of things?”
I open my mouth to respond, then pause. “I don’t see how this is relevant, Haze.”
“Trust me. Tell me what things you two do when you get together outside of the house.”
“Well, we’ve gone to the movies. Had dinner, both out and sometimes at his place. Gone to art galleries. You know. Normal stuff.”
“Normal couple stuff.”
I vehemently shake my head. “No. Normal friend stuff. Couples kiss and have sex. We don’t.”
“A relationship is more than just sex, Lo. It’s sharing pieces of yourself. Letting the other person see the darkest parts of your soul, hoping they stand by your side while you search for the light. Sex is merely the icing on the cake. It’s not the entire relationship. Hell, there are still some people who prefer not to have sex until they’re married. Although I’m not one to buy a car without test driving it first, you can’t say their relationship is any less valid because they choose to wait. Hell, do you really think people still have sex when they’re ninety? I sure don’t. But does that mean they’re no longer in a relationship? Does that mean they no longer love each other?”
“What are you saying?” I ask hesitantly, unsure I’m ready to hear the answer I fear I’ve known all along but was happy to ignore.
She squeezes my hands, her eyes focused intently on mine. “I’m saying you and Wes are in a relationship. You just refuse to admit it.”
“I don’t—”
She holds up her hand, cutting me off. “Who helped you get over your fear of heights?”
I look away. “Wes,” I mumble.
“And who comforted you after a snake almost killed you, according to you?”
“Wes,” I repeat, my voice more aggravated.
“And who’s been by your side while you confront your biggest fear?”
“My biggest fear?”
“Yes. Who’s been with you every step of the way as you learned to love again? Who showed you it’s okay to love again?”
I hang my head, a heaviness in my chest at the idea. “I promised myself I’d never lower my walls for anyone again.”
“You didn’t have to. Because Wes was more than willing to scale those damn walls to possess your heart. And deep down, you know he possesses your heart. You know you love him.”
I dart my eyes to hers, my chin trembling.
She wraps her arm around my shoulders, kissing the top of my head. “And I’m certain he loves you. It’s why he goes out of his way to put a smile on your face every day. Why he didn’t give up on you even when you’d given up on yourself.” She pulls back, meeting my eyes. “So you need to ask yourself, Londyn. Are you going to stop letting your past haunt you? Or are you always going to use that as an excuse for not taking a risk?”
I chew on my lower lip, torn. “It’s not that easy.”
Hazel’s brows furrow in contemplation, her mouth formed into a tight line. “Do you remember what you told me when you showed up to the first self-defense class? Your reason for attending?”
I slowly nod. “That I wanted to take back control of the parts of my life he took from me.”
“Exactly.” She beams. “And you’ve done that. You’ve taken back control of your professional life. And your sex life…to a certain extent. There’s only one part of your life left. One part you’ve avoided, which is understandable after everything you went through. After I lost the boys, I couldn’t even walk into a children’s clothing store or pass the toy section in Target without breaking down. It was debilitating. I barely left the house, worried I’d see a child and lose it. I thought I’d never be normal again.
“But now, I’m able to do all those things I couldn’t. Because I didn’t avoid my fears. I knew I’d never be able to heal if I kept avoiding everything that triggered the memories of what I lost. What did I always say in class?”
“Healing happens when you’re triggered but have the strength to walk through the pain and toward a different path.”
“Isn’t that what you want? A new path where he’s nothing more than a speck of dust?”
I look forward, blinking once, twice, my stomach churning at the thought of putting myself out there. Then I expel a long breath and pull myself up from the couch, grabbing my purse and keys off the coffee table.
“Where are you going?”
I shrug. “To take a leap of faith.”
Her expression brightens, a wide smile tugging on her lips. “That’s my girl.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Londyn
My heart pounds with the intensity of a thousand drummers when I turn onto Wes’ circular drive and park behind his Range Rover. I stare at the stone exterior of the house, faint light coming from a few windows on the second floor, everything picturesque, right down to the autumn wreath I’d made for him out of recycled items a few weeks ago.
Can I really do this? Can I take that final step, one I’ve avoided for years in order to protect myself from making the same mistake of trusting the wrong person?
But Hazel’s right.
Wes didn’t care I’d erected walls around myself. He happily scaled them, one frustrating and aggravating brick at a time. And with each brick, he po
ssessed another piece of my heart. Now it’s time to let him all the way in. To take that last step and rise above my past. Above my fear. Above everything that’s held me back, causing me to repeat the same cycle year after year. It’s time I finally take back control. And it starts with Wes.
Expelling a long breath, I shakily step onto the textured pavers, a force bigger than myself taking over, propelling me up the walkway and toward Wes’ front door before I lose my nerve.
I bring my hand up to the door, my heart pounding in rhythm with my heavy rapping that echoes in the still night air. I listen for any movement from within, but don’t immediately hear anything, apart from a few cars driving down a nearby street and a dog barking.
Then the door swings wide and Wes appears in front of me. I tear my eyes to his, words caught in my throat as I take in his appearance. He ditched the jeans and Henley for a white t-shirt and plaid pajama bottoms that fall sinfully from his hips, his feet bare.
“Londyn,” he breathes, pulling my attention back to him. “Are you okay?” Concern oozes from his voice as he steps forward, eyes skating over me.
“Yes. No. I…” Pausing, I lick my lips, smiling nervously. “Can I come in?”
“Of course.” He moves aside, gesturing for me to walk ahead of him.
I continue into his mostly dark house, the only light coming from over the sink in the kitchen and the flames flickering in the gas fireplace in the living room.
“Would you like to sit down?” Wes gestures to the couch.
I shake my head. “I think I need to stand for this.”
He stops as he’s about to sit, straightening himself. “Okay.” Widening his stance, his intense stare bores into me as he waits.
I can’t imagine what must be going through his mind right now. What’s so important that I drove over here to talk to him instead of just waiting until tomorrow? But this couldn’t wait. He’s waited long enough for me to realize what’s been so obvious from the beginning, if I’d just opened my damn eyes. Now they’re wide open. And I don’t ever want to close them again.