Page 82 of Doing It for Love

I lean up as the cab pulls into our apartment garage. “He’s not replacing you. I just have two best friends.”

She slides across the seat and hands the driver the fare. We carry our heels when we get to the elevator, both sighing in relief as our feet take a rest.

“Thank you for the distraction,” I tell her with a hug outside my door.

“I’m waiting here till I know he’s inside.”

I laugh and unlock the door. The living room light is on and socks are front and center on the carpet. Suddenly my stomach is filled with those devil butterflies.

“He’s here.”

She leans past me and yells, “You better have a good excuse, Landon, or I would advise you to wear a cup next time you see me!”

“Shh…” I say through my giggles. “Good night.”

“Text me.”

I push her out the door and wait till I hear her get inside her place before turning around. Landon’s leaning against the wall in the hallway in his plain black baseball cap, loose tie around his neck, blue button-down sleeves pushed up his arms, and black slacks. I almost ask him why he’s dressed like that, but I don’t want to be the first to say something. After all, I wasn’t the one who wentpooffor three days.

He smiles, and I know the smile. It’s his scared smile.

“Hey.”

Chapter 26

“Hey,” I say back, tossing my pocketbook and bag of presents on the card table.

“How was the shower?” he asks as if nothing is wrong.Liz, do not kill him.

“It was fun. How was your three days not talking to me?”

He lowers his head, scratching the back of his neck. “Not good. I missed you.”

I cross my arms and dig my nails into my skin to keep from smacking him. “Please grab a shovel for that hole you’re digging.”

He half-grins, and damn him for looking good doing it. But this is no time for smiles. No half-smiles or scared smiles or love-you smiles. None of that shit.

“Where were you, Landon?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

He gestures to his attire, and I slowly shake my head.

“Uh…”

He half-smiles again.Stop that.“I was looking for a job.”

“What? Why?”

“Because we have no money.”

“Yeah, which is why I’m working maximum overtime. You didn’t have to leave.”

He pushes from the wall and takes a step toward me. “I did. I needed to do something.”

“That’s fine, okay. If you want to get another job, I get it,” I say, picking up his socks and walking past him to the bedroom. I turn on the bedside lamp and toss the socks in the laundry basket. He follows right behind.

“I just need something more stable.”

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