Page 26 of Doing It for Love

“I don’t know if it’s that,” Alec says. “But Landon grew up in a house that argues.” He lets out a small laugh. “And they argue over the dumbest stuff. I remember one time his sister was trying to tell one of her boring-as-hell stories, and she said something about how she was eating Skittles, and Landon was like, no, you were eating Sixlets.Iwas eating Skittles. And they argued for twenty minutes over who ate what and I don’t even remember what she was trying to tell me in the first place. That’s just how they talk. Everything is a battle.”

I raise my eyebrows and stare at our collage wall. There isn’t a single picture of Landon’s family up there.

“His parents do this, too?”

“Yeah. It’s messed.” Alec stretches out, cracking his neck. “Honestly, I thought he’d argue with whoever he ended up with.”

“Wedoargue.” I laugh.

“Nah. You may tease the hell out of each other. But you don’t fight over dumb shit. I even see him let stuff go when I know he thinks you’re wrong. I don’t think he wants that fighting crap for his future.”

And yet we had a fight right before he left for his movie shoot today.

I twist to my stomach and pick at the carpet. Landon’s from Philadelphia, I’m from Georgia (go Falcons!). We grew up worlds apart and met in New York. Parental introductions seemed like something that would happen when we visited them or vice versa. I wonder…“Should I be worried?”

“His parents argue every decision he makes.” Alec shrugs. “You’re something I don’t think he wants to argue about.”

“Well, I’m awesome. Maybe they won’t want to arguethisdecision.” I point to my ring, and he shakes his head.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I give him a dirty look and push on his head. Way to make me totally self-conscious. And here I thought it’d be my parents who’d be the problem.

My phone buzzes with a text from Landon saying he’ll be home in an hour. I blow out a sigh and Alec pats my leg.

“I’m gonna head out. See ya at work.”

“Can I get a ride tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

I walk him to the elevator, give him a hug, and trudge back to my apartment. Theresa’s snuggled into the cushions, and I settle a blanket over her and clean up our food. Landon says an hour, but sometimes that means two. So I click off all the lights—minus the one over the oven—and curl up with Theresa on the other side of the couch in case she wakes up and doesn’t know where she is. She gets night terrors occasionally and almost hit Landon with a bat once when he came home at, like, three, and she had crashed on the couch. Best to have reinforcements.

I stare at the collage wall, not really being able to see the pictures in detail, but I’m familiar with them enough to know what’s where. Me and my mom at the beach. Dad with Spider-Man in Times Square. My cousin with Theresa at prom so she didn’t have to go alone. All in all, a pretty awesome family, even if Mom passive-aggressively argues with me about marrying so young.

Landon talks about his family like he loves them. I’ve asked about his sister, knew that he never got along with her, but that they had good times, too. He loves his dad to pieces. I know that because he talks wonders about his father. And he says his mom is crazy, totally losing her mind, and can’t remember things from yesterday, but he loves her, too. I feel like I know his family without ever meeting them. But I don’t. And I can’t help but freak out a little that my first meeting with them will be because I’m marrying Landon. Talk about pressure.

I wonder if he feels the same way about meeting my family.

Somewhere between worry and talking myself out of it, I find my mind drifting off, hanging out in the between-sleep. The lock clicks. Landon’s work scent filters into my nose. Shoes slide off. Keys jangle. I don’t know how, but I hear a smile. I feel strong arms under my thighs, on my back, lifting my body as if I’m weightless. My hands find broad shoulders. My cheek rests against a damp-with-sweat shirt. Cool sheets meet my skin moments later.

Rough hands undress me, taking extra caution not to skate over any off-limits areas. My body is so relaxed I can’t find it in me to help him, but he sits me up, slips a giant T-shirt over my head, and settles me back into the pillows. A press of sweet, warm lips to mine follows, and I want to kiss back, but I’m on a sleep-delay, not able to respond fast enough.

“Good night, Tumbles,” he says, brushing my hair back. I think I drift off again, because when I feel Landon against me in the bed he smells freshly showered and his hair is wet. His arms wrap me up tight, and he holds me close to his chest. Thethump thump thumpof his heart sounds faster than normal, waking me from the in-and-out sleep.

“Are you okay?” I mumble.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

“Just a couple more months of this, I promise.”

I nod, not wanting to say it’ll be like this again when he goes into hard-core edits. It’s nice being held, and it’s too late to tease him.

He takes a deep breath. “Can I take you away next weekend?”

“Where?” I ask, intrigued, but still too tired to respond in anything but a groggy voice.

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