Page 37 of Doing It for Love

My eyes swivel to Mrs. Wangford in the driveway, throwing her hands in the air at her husband. A guilty weight burrows deep into the pit of my stomach.

Mr. Wangford sighs, gaze drifting to me, then back to Landon. “You had to leave early anyway, right? Head back to work. And long trips probably aren’t good for the baby.”

Landon stiffens. “She’s not pregnant, Dad.” His hand shakes in mine, and I lean in to him, hoping that my proximity alone will help comfort him, because no way am I opening my mouth. That’s probably what made Mrs. Wangford slam her butt in the car in the first place.

“You can stay for a bit if you want.” Mr. Wangford forces a smile. “Show Elizabeth the house.”

“Right.”

Landon’s arm wraps around my waist, still keeping my hand tucked in his. I squeeze it twice and he squeezes back…but it takes him a minute.

HonkHonkHonk!

Mr. Wangford doesn’t turn. “We’ll see you at Christmas, ’kay, kid?”

Landon’s jaw flexes. “Got it.”

Mr. Wangford’s gaze goes to me, and his smile doesn’t look as forced. “Nice to meet you, Elizabeth Ann.”

Mustering up every ounce of courage I have, I reach out and hug my future father-in-law. “You too,” I say, hoping my voice sounds light and happy and also sorry for my drunken behavior. Mr. Wangford jerks a tiny bit with surprise, but gives me an awkward pat on the back. Then he gets in the driver’s seat and they take off to Mrs. Wangford’s “appointment.”

Landon drops my hand and slams the front door shut, knocking down an extra set of keys on the wall hook. He starts toward the stairs while I pick up the keys and put them back in place.

He’s not saying anything, but I’m assuming we’re going to pack our stuff and go. The house feels empty. Just us and Buster. Who knows where Elle is. I try to keep up, my guilt increasing with every step.

Why oh why did I drink last night? I could’ve sucked it up and dealt with the ex-girlfriend talk. Or maybe I overreacted. I mean, it’s natural for moms to talk about uncomfortable things, right? Oh hell, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, because I completely botched this meet and greet. I wonder if Landon will even talk to me on the way back.

Shit, this was my chance to prove I’m old enough to get married, that I’m excited about being a member of their family, that I’m cute and perfect for their son and not this lippy, bossy ditz who can’t hold her liquor.

I slam my butt down on the middle step of the second staircase. “Landon, I’m so sorry. I should’ve shoved that wine away. Or drank water. Or duct-taped my mouth shut. Or—”

“Wait, you think I’m mad at you?” Landon stops, turns around, and grins. “That’s damn cute.”

“You’re not?”

He sits on the step above me. “I’m mad atthem.”

“But I—”

“You’re here.” He kisses my cheek. “Even though they’ve treated you like hell, you’re still here.”

“I want them to like me.”

“I do, too.”

“I want to like them.”

“I don’t give a shit if you like them.”

“They’re your family.”

“Don’t remind me.” He sighs and rests his head on the railing. “It’s days like this I wish I could choose my family.”

“You chose me.” I offer up a cheesy grin. He laughs and kisses it away.

“I still want to show you something before we go.”

“Okay.”

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