Page 18 of A Heart So Haunted
The golds would accent the sage green. The sage green would tie together Harthwait’s first floor. The upstairs bedrooms would be individualized. I could probably watch one of those home renovation shows for a few ideas on tie-in pieces—like doorknobs, or maybe dresser and cabinet handles.
I made it halfway through my coffee, ankles crossed, when I heard it.
“… couldn’t appreciate you taking the time more than I already do,” a woman’s voice whispered.
“Don’t worry. We strive to make the customer experience as individualized as possible, and—Landry?”
I stared at the wingback chair on my phone screen.
Every nerve in my body ignited like a live wire. Immediately, my heart strung itself up in the back of my throat. My palms grew clammy. If I stared hard enough, I could just make out the fluttering of my blue pulse in the inside of my wrist.
Footsteps. Closer. I couldn’tnotlook.
“Landry?” he asked again.
I glanced up, as if dazed and thoroughly distracted, from my phone. Locked it, and sat it face down on my lap so he couldn’t see it. Both hands wrapped around my coffee. His name rolled off my bottom lip before I locked eyes with him.
“Ivan?”
He leaned closer, as if to make sure. The russet undertones of his hair looked too uniform, the blond highlights too intricate. His jaw was square and his cheeks were high and his eyes were deep, deep blue.
Pretty.
I wanted to walk out in the middle of the street and lay down. No. That didn’t give me a high enough chance of being killed. A carwould straddle me, rubber would graze my arms, and I’d be unharmed. I needed a bridge to jump off of.
“That’s crazy,” he said, more to himself. He used his teeth to close a pair of sunglasses before tucking them in his shirt collar, his other hand reaching out for my shoulder. How did he get so close all of the sudden?
He was going to touch me. Palm and all.
I smothered a recoil.
“I didn’t think you still lived local?” he said. The top two buttons of his shirt remained open, as did his sport coat. The slacks he wore held a tight crease in the front. His hand landed with a light squeeze.
“I don’t,” I said.
His eyes shuttered, brow furrowed. “Visiting, then?”
“Something like that.” Lie.Lie.
A woman hovered, half-forgotten, just behind him. He turned back to the her—early fifties, with the aura of importance around her perfectly distressed jeans. Only rich people could look so casual while still give off an air of prestige.
His fingers clenched my shoulder as he motioned to me. “Excuse me, Rene. This is Landry Frederick. We went to school together.”
She offered a nod, lips flat, eyes crinkled at the corners. “Landry. It’s a pleasure.”
“You, too.” My cheeks burned with a forced smile as they spoke in low, hurried tones. With a pat on Ivan’s shoulder, Rene offered another strained look to me before turning to leave.
Then it was Ivan and I. Two cars hissed by in those eight silent seconds. My reflection wavered, ghostly, across the street in the windows of a law office. Why weren’t my legs working? Why wasn’t I standing? I should have already left. Made an excuse, an appointment, something, for me to walk away.
“It was nice running into you, but I have to get back,” I said, standing. I gave a smile while looking at the ground. Why did he haveto stand so close to me? Why did he still smell the same—fresh cologne and dryer sheets?
He stepped in front of me. “Hey, hey. Don’t leave yet.”
An ugly, dark thing stirred in the back recesses of my ribs. “Tell your parents hello for me,” I said.
“For real, Landry. Why are you here?”
I looked up. Squinted against the sun. “I heard from a bird you all moved away.”
