by Anna Todd
Or both?
“Dakota”—my anger peeps out from behind each letter of her name—“I said that’s enough. You can’t just come here and act like this outside my apartment. This isn’t Saginaw—instead of people just listening to our business, they’ll call the cops on me.”
“Landon”—she squeezes my hands, but I pull away—“ask her about her rich family, about her even richer husband. He . . .”
Dakota’s voice is still going, moving through one hole in my head and out the other. But I can’t hear a single word she’s saying.
Husband?
“When we kicked her out, she acted like she didn’t have anywhere to go. But she did—she has a mansion outside of the city. I’ve seen it.”
Scarsdale. The way she changed her clothes. How come she wouldn’t let me follow her.
Something, something, something . . . Dakota goes on. Nora is looking up at me and her brows move together. I can feel my face changing, I can see it in her confused eyes.
She’s married?
Of course she is.
chapter
Thirty
LIKE A ZOMBIE, I push past Dakota and stand in front of Nora. “A husband?” My voice is high, broken at best.
She blinks at me, and I hear Dakota approaching behind me. Nora sighs. “It’s a long story.”
A long story?
A long story is adding a lot of details to something. A long story is much simpler than a secret freaking husband. This is worse than her being a spy. Much worse. She has a freaking husband and yet is acting like I just found out she had a sandwich for lunch. I don’t know if she really doesn’t see how big a deal—how grown-up—this situation is, or if she just doesn’t take me seriously. I feel like she’s writing off my emotions, and I’m exhausted. I can’t keep playing cat-and-mouse with her when she’s never going to give in. I need answers.
“A story you didn’t share me with me,” I quietly say. “A pretty important story.”
Nora nods, calm and collected, the exact opposite of me right now. I feel like I’m being stuffed into a closet that’s too hard to escape. Is she worth all of this trouble? Why can’t she just tell me what’s going on? I thought she trusted me.
I look at her and try to see inside her. I explore her, remembering how much progress we made tonight. The memory of her laughter rings through my head. The way her fingers feel massaging my skin and the way her sweet mouth tastes. She’s left a pretty hefty mark on me. I don’t know if I’ll be the same after she’s done with me.
Another thing I can’t forget is how she has been making me feel so good about myself. So powerful. So normal. So okay being me.
But how much weight does that tiny dot of truth hold when it’s swimming in a lake of secrets and lies?
“I’m not going to stand here and fight with her all night,” Nora whispers to me, just out of Dakota’s earshot.
But Dakota clearly has other plans. “Oh, so you didn’t tell him?” she exclaims loudly. “Well, don’t feel too bad, she didn’t tell us either until we got a bill for him.” In my daze I don’t hear the rest of what she says, but Dakota keeps harping, and I know one of these words is going to cause one of us to snap. It’s like the whistling of the wind just before a storm, you can feel it coming.
Nora explodes right back. “It wasn’t any of your business, Dakota. And it still isn’t. I didn’t tell you anything about my life because it doesn’t concern you. You’re not entitled to know what’s happening outside of that apartment. The only thing you should be concerned about is whether or not I paid the rent.”
Dakota snaps her mouth shut and opens it again. “You—”
“Both of you—stop it! We aren’t going to stand here and bicker all night.” I look at both of the women, wearing identical expressions. “Stop it.” They both look so surprised to be called out.
Dakota talks first: “We aren’t bickering. Just tell her lying ass—”
“Stop it!” I raise my voice.
Dakota’s eyes widen. Nora is silent, staring at me with calm eyes. I need to talk to her, alone. With Dakota here nothing is going to get resolved. “Dakota. Go home. I’ll come get you in the morning. Text me your flight and I’ll see if I can get on it. But you need to go, now.” I look at her to make sure she knows I’m serious.
“You’re choosing her over me?” Dakota asks, and my stomach aches.
I know what she’s thinking: after all this time, all of our memories, I’m choosing a stranger over her. It’s not that way at all, but it’s going to be how she interprets it. This must be strange for her; I wonder if she feels her little world shifting the way I do? I’ve never done anything in the past that would even be considered close to choosing anyone over her. I’ve had her back since we were kids, since she caught mean old Mr. Rupert’s dog and tried to drop it off at the animal shelter for its protection. Misguided, granted, but she thought he was hurting the dog. But I saw the best in the headstrong little woman then, something that’s hard for me to see now. The Dakota I know is hiding under this jealous, immature stranger in front of me.
I refuse to feed the little green monster on her shoulder.
“This isn’t a competition. If you don’t go, there’s no chance I’m going with you tomorrow.”
Dakota stares at me, waiting for me say another word. I don’t. I have nothing more to say.
I turn to Nora, and she watches Dakota walk away behind me. I can see her from the corner of my eye, and if she says another word, I may lose my temper. I’m fuming, irritated at both of these unpredictable women and at myself for not keeping a better hold on what’s happening in my life.
Nora slowly drags her eyes up to mine. “I—”
I hold my hand up, letting her know it’s my turn to talk. It’s funny how she chooses now to want to talk to me.
I keep my voice down and wait for a man walking his dog to pass by. The dog stops to pee on a trash bag on the sidewalk. Listening to which is a lovely way for us to spend a few tense seconds.
“Before you speak, just know that I’m done playing games here. I’m done with the questions and skipping answers. If you want to be a part of my life, you’re going to let me be a part of yours. Think about this before you reply. I’m serious, Nora.”
I don’t know the extent of what I’m getting myself into, but I know nothing can be worse than being out here, attached to this woman, while remaining utterly unsure of who she is. I would like to think that I know her better than this, that some magical explanation is behind her secrets, but staring back at her now, I’m just not sure. I wish I knew her, and I miss our rooftop in Manhattan. At least that’s one thing about Dakota: I always knew her secrets. I was a part of them.
Nora’s eyes are glossy when I look down at her. “Can I come up?” She reaches for my hand.
I pull away, but lead her inside my building nonetheless.
chapter
Thirty-one
Nora
IS THE ELEVATOR ALWAYS THIS loud? The changing air pressure and mechanical noises are making me nauseous. Or maybe it’s just the inevitable talk I’m about to have with Landon that’s clawing at my insides. When we step out, even the lights in the hallway feel brighter than they usually do. And we are walking abnormally slow. Part of me wants to tell Landon that I have to go and run away and never look back.
I could erase him from my life just as quickly as he came into it.
He pushes his key into the lock and holds the door open for me to pass. I walk under his arm and he clicks the lamp on. Under this light, he looks harsher, all angles, and the softness of his lips is shaded by the darkness.
Like this it’s easier to imagine walking away from him. When the light is on and I can see his innate lightness, it won’t be so simple.
Tonight has changed the way I look at Landon. Before Dakota showed up, I was getting to know a different side of him. I felt his pain and guilt and I saw him as a protector, a man doing his best in a tough situation.
“Do you want a drink?”
I follow him to the kitchen but think, Not unless you have a bottle of vodka I can chug down.
Landon doesn’t turn the overhead on, and I listen for Tessa. The apartment is silent. She must be asleep or out. It’s late. I don’t even know what hour it is.
“A water. Please.”
He grabs a water, and a Gatorade for himself, from the fridge, then slams it shut.
Is he mad?
What a stupid question, of course he is.
I follow him to his room and he tells me he’s going to take a quick shower. I don’t know if the extra delay will make this better, or worse. I nod and he turns his light on, grabs clothes out of his dresser, and leaves me alone in the room. I lie back on the bed and stare at the ceiling.
So Landon is going to Michigan with Dakota. Just the two of them, their memories, and their hometown. I laugh pathetically at my own expense and hastily wipe the tears from my eyes. Her dad is dying; I’m being incredibly selfish by even thinking about myself right now. The sad truth about what happened to Dakota’s brother was just one layer of what they have shared. I shouldn’t have tried to come between them in the first place. I let myself get distracted, and now everyone around me is suffering because of it.
Landon deserves a quiet life. He deserves to have peace and quiet and a calm love. He’s steady, he’s the kind of guy that makes sure things are okay. With him I wouldn’t have to worry. But he would be getting the short end of the stick. In trade for the comfort he would bring me, he would be thrown into the hectic web that is my life. He has a nice family, not one driven by greed and the desire for notoriety.
The tears burn the back of my eyes and I force myself to sit up and get my shit together. Sobbing on his bed and feeling sorry for myself isn’t going to get me anywhere. Tonight is the last night that he’s mine, the last time that I will feel his hands on me, if I’m lucky enough for even that.
I climb off of the bed and walk to the bathroom. The door is unlocked and steam billows out into the hall. I close the door quickly and lock it behind me. I drop my clothes to the floor and take a deep breath before I step into the shower. Landon’s body is under the shower stream, water coating his naked frame. His eyes are closed and his chin is lifted so his face is directly under the water. He doesn’t make any move to let me know he’s aware of my presence, but he doesn’t flinch when I wrap my arms around him.
I lay my cheek against his wet back and hold him. We stay like this for minutes, hours, who knows, and then he finally turns to face me. His hands wrap around my back and I lean into his chest. His heart beats for me and mine aches for him.
When I put my fingers under his chin and try to kiss him, he turns his head. Pain slices through me. I better get used to this feeling. After I tell him everything and he spends time alone with Dakota, we will be done anyway. I’d known this day would come since the first time I kissed him, but I hadn’t expected to care as much as I do. This was all just supposed to be fun, and I was going to be the older woman he could fuck for a few weeks and then we would go our separate ways. But now that he’s turned away from me, I don’t know how we got here. When did we cross the line from friendship to this?
What is this?
I start to apologize. “I’m sorry about—” I don’t even know where to begin.
“Don’t. Let’s talk when we are . . .” He looks down at me. “Let’s get dressed.”
I agree with him, not because I want to, but because it’s what he wants. Right now I want whatever he wants.
When we step out of the water, he grabs a towel and turns to face me. Landon bends down and rubs the towel over my feet and up my calves, drying my skin. He’s dripping wet himself, but here he is kneeling at my feet, worrying himself with drying me.
My throat burns with words for him, but I can’t find them. I pull at his arms and make him stand up. With the same towel he used, I dry his body. He doesn’t stop me; he closes his eyes, and I take my time collecting the droplets of water on his body. I ask him to sit down on the toilet so I can reach his hair, and he obliges. His eyes and mouth are closed, and I wish I could rewind to the first day I met him and have a do-over. If this were one of those fantasy books he likes, I could cast a spell and turn back time. I would concoct some type of truth serum to slip myself so I would be forced to tell him the truth from the start.
I reach for the pile of his clothes on the back of the toilet and take the black briefs in my hands. I bend down, touching his thigh, and he lets me dress him. He balls his fist, then flexes his fingers, and repeats this over and over until I’m finished. His green T-shirt is wrinkly and his wet hair is a mess on his head. It hurts me to look at him.
I dry my body the rest of the way and grab my black pants from the floor. He tugs at them and takes them from me. “I’ll give you something to wear.” He collects my clothes from the floor.
I wrap the towel around my body and follow him to his room. When the door closes behind us, I drop the towel. Landon’s eyes rake over my naked body, and I shiver under his gaze. He pulls his drawer open and hands me a pair of light gray briefs and a sleeveless shirt.
He doesn’t look at me as I dress, and my insides feel empty. I know it’s a superficial thing, wanting him to crave my body, but his deliberately looking away from me only fuels my insecurity.
When I’m dressed and feeling even more vulnerable than before, I sit on the edge of the bed. He takes a drink of his Gatorade and joins me. He hands me my water.
There’s no point in stretching this out any longer.
“I got married when I was nineteen.” Landon sucks in a breath and keeps his eyes level on the wall. “I did it for a number of different reasons. To rebel against my parents, to better piss his parents off, to be able to go to college for free. I didn’t want a dime of my parents’ money for college. Marrying Amir was the answer to that. Once married, my income was no longer based on my family’s wealth.”
Landon seems to take this in and, as always, hits at the heart of the matter. “And where is your husband now?”
If only it were that simple. “My husband is in a field somewhere between here and Scarsdale.”
That’s where his spirit is, anyway.
Landon’s forehead creases and he looks over at me.
“At first, we were just kids who signed a paper and were suddenly married. Both of us felt like we were getting out of the iron grip of our parents. We were in young love, the kind where everything is great until an actual problem comes along.”
I pause. Do you love me like that? I want to ask Landon.
“And so when real problems came up, like his drinking and failing out of college”—I should have written this down; it would have been much easier than explaining such a complex situation—“his parents blamed me and threatened to cut him off financially. But I couldn’t control him, I barely knew him anymore. But I tried, and of course he got angry with me. But he told me that his family wanted him to sign away some land they had purchased in his name. He didn’t tell me why, but I did my own research and realized his parents want to make a fortune off the land. Of course they care for their son, but they’d been planning his life for him for years before the accident, and when their plans were ruined, they came up with a Plan B: Get the money from me and sell the land off. With the money, they could build another hospital and plaster their family name on it.
“They wanted him to give away his land to them, like his loyal brother had, but Amir refused. I remember the day I had to drag Amir out of his father’s office. He was livid, screaming that his dad was a fraud, a liar. He didn’t speak the whole way home, but that was the day I realized I married a friend, not a lover.
“On paper, we had everything right. Our fathers were business partners, our siblings were engaged, we were both well traveled and from wealthy families. The problem was that the small things I loved, he hated, like baking. It would be fine if he had no interest in baking but at least ate the food.
But he didn’t; he wouldn’t even try what I made half the time. His passion was real estate, which I had absolutely no interest in whatsoever. Our families were tied together with money and egos, and the two of us fell into a game we didn’t even know we were playing. How perfect would it be if we rebelled and got married without a huge wedding? Our materialistic families would be pissed off, and the thrill was worth it all. We conspired together, but we never had much in the realm of intimacy, physical or emotional.”
And after all that, as I’m feeling breathless at having said so much to him—more than I’ve said to anyone on the subject maybe ever—all Landon says is, “And what does this have to do with you now? Are you separated or not?”
Landon is young. Too young to worry about separations and marriages and legal documents and land deeds. All he knows are his feelings. He doesn’t understand the power struggle within a rich family. He’s untainted, and here I am staining him.
“Because.” I drag a deep breath through my lungs. “Now that he can’t sign anything himself, they expect me to just hand over the land. But I won’t. Amir doesn’t owe his family anything, and I don’t either. They would have already unplugged him and let him die if it wasn’t for me.”
Landon jerks his head toward me. He’s struggling to put two and two together.
Why didn’t I just tell him? Now that it’s out, it doesn’t seem so bad. I wish everything were simple. My problems probably sound like rich-girl problems, but that doesn’t make them any less relevant in my life.
“We were never happily married. We were childhood friends who made an adult decision we weren’t prepared for. It was easier to stay married, but we were seeing other people. Well, he was.”
“I’m missing a piece of this.” Landon rubs his hand over the back of his neck. “How long has he been . . .”
“In care? He has an in-home system now. His own nurse at his house.”