Page 77 of Doing It for Love

“I’m not mad,” I tell him honestly. I’m not mad anymore. Just scared.

—

The next morning, Theresa is at my door with a handful of balloons.

“I am under strict instructions to distract you today.”

“Did you talk to Landon? What’d he say? He’s not leaving me, is he? Tell him he can have Sundance, I’ll apologize to his mom, I’ll take his sister out when she gets here, I’ll—”

“Liz. Breathe.” Theresa puts her hands on my shoulders, the balloons knocking into the side of my head. I inhale and blow out an exhale, and Theresa gives me a small smile. “That’s it…calm. I don’t know anything. Alec told me to take care of you. So I planned a bridal shower.”

My shoulders slump under her hands. She does look dressed up. Burgundy lipstick, rouge-splashed cheeks, and longer eyelashes, but she looks like that on her normal Friday nights. Her brown hair is kinked and curly and gorgeous. I feel like I just got pulled from a dumpster, and I really don’t want to beautify myself.

“I don’t want to.”

“I know,” she says, letting the balloons bounce to the ceiling as she pulls me in for a hug. “And trust me, if I knew where Landon was I’d first scream at him, maybe punch him, then I’d tell you where I left the body.”

I laugh into her hair, choking on a few strands.

“Let me distract you,” she says when I pull back. I nod and let her push me into the bathroom. After I take a short shower, I pad out onto the bath mat, trying to forget how it feels when Landon and I shower together and how dangerous: The first step out of the tub is when we were both so slippery and anxious to move to the bedroom. Back when we were luxurious dessert during the sex meal.

“Landon, it’s about time!” I hear from the other side of the door. It jolts me so much my feet don’t know whether to run toward Theresa or away from her, so I end up falling all over myself and landing between the toilet and the sink.

My ass is officially stuck.

“Theresa!” I yell, and then cover my boobs with the towel.

She comes in, phone to ear, searching around till she sees me stuck on the floor.

“Is that him?” I say, waving wildly for her to pass the phone. She does with suppressed laughter as I move my wet hair away from my ear.

“Where are you? Are you okay? What did I do? Are you mad at me? Please come home. I miss you and I need you, and I don’t know what I did wrong or why you won’t sleep in the bed with me or what.”

“Lizzie…” His voice sends a bunch of different emotions through me. I don’t know whether to be relieved, annoyed, upset, sad, or worried. “I’ll be home tonight.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Do you still love me?”

“Of course.”

“Because you sure as hell aren’t acting like it.”

“I love you.”

I pause, debating on saying it back. Not because I don’t feel it, but because he has me so pissed he doesn’t deserve to hear it. But then, of course, my imagination runs wild about what if something happens to him and this is the last time we talk and I didn’t say I loved him.

Damn it.

“I love you, too.”

“I’ll see you tonight.”

Then he hangs up, and I stick the phone out to Theresa.

She shakes her head at me. “You must really love him, because I just heard half of that conversation and he got off easy.”

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