Page 75 of Doing It for Love

He squeezes my hand. “You’re welcome.”

And I fall into perfect dreams of Landon kissing me in the snowfall under the New York City lights, me in my wedding gown and him in his tux. Even in my sleep, the angel butterflies celebrate for the day that we get to do it for real.

Chapter 23

I wake from my dreams and it’s still dark. Landon’s side of the bed is unusually cold and empty. Rubbing the gook from my eyes, I pad my way to the glow coming from the living room. When I peek around the corner, Landon’s head is buried in his hands, and he’s shaking, glasses dangling between his pointer and thumb.

I blink a few times and move a step forward. Maybe he needs a snuggle or something, but his voice stops me.

“Hey, um, God? I don’t know what to do, but I’m pretty sure you’ve got it figured out in that big plan of yours.” He blows out a breath and looks up at the ceiling. “Pops always told me to ask for help when tough shit like this comes up, even though asking for help is really not my thing. And damn it, I just said ‘shit’ in a prayer, and now I’m not sure if you even want to give me what I’m asking…if I ask for it. And damn it, I said damn, too. And again. Sorry, God. Let me start over.”

My heart thuds dully in the pit of my stomach. I back around the corner and lean against the wall. Landon and I go to church once in a blue moon, and the only time I’ve heard him pray was when he was kneeling at the toilet and asking God to free him from whatever flu-devil possessed his body so he could nail his movie pitch the next morning.

“Okay, here it is,” he starts, and I push my ear toward the sound. “I’m not good at asking for things, but I sort of need your help. Liz wants to be a mom someday, and I want to give that to her, but the way things are going, I can’t…financially. It’s no secret she’s the one saving our asses…sorry, uh…hindquarters…and it kills me when she gets off work and collapses on the couch, and yet she’s still the one cleaning the place and cooking and taking care of my sorry…hindquarter. And I don’t want to crawl to my parents for money. I want to strap on a pair and find something that’s going to support her dream, even if that means giving up mine.”

“No,” I whisper, then smack my hand over my mouth. He can’t give up directing. He’s going to make it someday. Iknowit. And I won’t let him give it up, and now I’m sending out prayers that Landon’s movie takes off tomorrow so he knows just how talented he is.

“So, I guess I’m asking, help me find a job? Something stable and with benefits and something that’ll get us to the point where we won’t need Liz to work. If you could do that, I’d really appreciate it. Uh, thanks. Amen.”

He sighs, and I bite my lip and stare at the hallway carpet for a few minutes. We always seem to freak out at opposite times, and maybe that’s why we’re good together. When I’m losing it, he’s there to pull me back. Now he’s struggling, and I just want him to know that tonight was everything to me, just what I needed now, especially since I feel like we’re losing our spark.

And the fact that he wants to support my dream as much as I want to support his just reaffirms in my heart that he ismy person,regardless of what course we are in the sex meal.

And I’m his.

I lean over and push on the bedroom door hard enough to announce that I’m awake. I step around the corner and gently press the laptop closed.

“I’m coming to bed, I promise,” he says, but I shake my head and slowly crawl onto his lap. My nails lightly scratch his chest, my lips graze his throat, and his arms engulf me as he adjusts to a more comfortable position.

“Say something romantic,” I whisper into his chest, which vibrates with soft laughter.

“Put me on the spot.”

“Come on.” I grin and shake him, hoping that I can take his mind off money and onto the important things.

He laughs again, eases into the couch cushion, and pulls the throw blanket over me. And then he starts singing. Badly.

I Get a Kick Out of You.

Guess we do have a song.

—

3:45 a.m.

I wake up again and it’s still dark. I’m resting in Landon’s arms on the couch, and he’s watchingCharlie and the Chocolate Factory. He doesn’t notice I’m awake, and I sort of blink out of my sleep, wondering if I’m dreaming because tears are stroking quietly down his cheeks. I must be dreaming. He can’t be crying to this movie. He’s seen it a million times. But I feel very much awake, and when I feel his gaze shifting from the TV to me, I let my eyes drift closed. A soft, damp press of his lips grazes my forehead. And yeah, I’m dreaming, because now I feel fast asleep.

—

7:45 a.m.

When I wake up Landon’s not there. I start spouting off curse words thinking I must be late for work if he’s already gone, but I still have a half hour before Alec gets here. Huh, Landon must’ve gone for a run or something.

I send him a text:Where are you?

After a few minutes of no response, I get ready for my long shift. Alec picks me up right on time, like always, and he doesn’t know where Landon is either. But he eases my mind and says Landon probably just has his earbuds in.

I still don’t hear anything while I’m at work, even though I send him more texts and voice mails. He’s going to get an earful when I get home, because I’m getting worried, and angry, and more worried.

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