“Mystery solved. Now we can all move on with our lives.”
Except the two of them have a silent conversation, and I don’t like where this is headed. In fact, it makes me stand up off the couch, needing to head for the door.
“What’s the worst that can happen if you try with her, Landon?” my father calls out just as my hand hits the knob. “You fall in love with her? She falls in love with you?”
“Yes,” I answer easily because it’s true. My head falls, my eyes closing, my chest clenching so tight I can hardly draw in air.
“Sounds awful,” Luca deadpans. “All that being happy and in love stuff.”
“It’s not that easy, and you know it.”
“No. I don’t know it. Couples fight and guilt is a motherfucker. I’ve said this a hundred times before to you, brother, but I’m saying it again now because I think now more than ever you need to hear it. You loved Reese with your whole heart and would have never intentionally hurt a hair on her head. The road was icy. You didn’t make it that way. What happened to her was a tragic accident. An accident. You would have died in her place a thousand times over and no one, including Stella, questions that.”
“Shut up, Luca.” I spin around, practically snarling at him. He can say whatever he wants, but it doesn’t change the fact that Reese is dead because I yelled and told her to go.
“He’s right, Landon. You know he is. You made mistakes. We all make mistakes because to be human is to error. But at some point, you have to forgive yourself and move on. Not just for you, but for Stella. She loves you, and we love you. But her happiness is so interconnected to yours. Why do you think she’s latching onto this woman so tightly? A woman she’s only known a month?”
I know why. I just can’t bring myself to think it.
“You deserve happiness,” he continues. “You deserve it all and so does Stella. The only one who blames you for Reese is you. Do you hear what I’m saying? Not Stella or any of us. Forgive yourself, Landon. And after you try that, maybe you should also try saying fuck it and give it a shot with this woman. Don’t let her become another regret. Forget the fact that she’s Stella’s teacher. That can be figured out.”
I picture Elle with that guy tonight. The one whose hands I wanted to break for touching her. Whose face I wanted to bloody for smiling at her the way he was. With interest and intent. This possessive kill-anyone-who-touches-what’s-mine thing is new for me. A bit unsettling at that, but there all the same. Refusing to be denied. No matter how hard I try, I can’t suppress my fixation with her.
Which means I either continue to make a futile attempt at pushing it away and eventually grow more insane than I already am.
Or I do what my brother and father suggest.
Is that possible for me? Can I forgive myself for what happened with Reese? Can I actually say fuck it and see what happens?
19
The kitchen smells like heaven, and I find my friend standing over a roasted pork loin, slicing it up into perfect equal pieces. “You’re such a bitch,” I start, and Bridget smiles, wholly unrepentant.
“I’ve been called worse.”
“You were supposed to send Roger. Not a strange dude to pick me up.”
“Roger was busy.”
“Right. So that’s why Aaron said you set this whole thing up, and he thinks it’s a date?”
Bridget huffs at me, setting down the electric knife. “Go over and grab those rolls out of the oven before they burn, would ya?”
I slip on the oven mitts that are on the counter and retrieve the rolls that are perfectly golden brown. Another second and they’d be hockey pucks. I set them on the counter, then take it upon myself to drop them into the cloth-lined breadbasket.
“You needed a date.”
“I did not need a date. We talked about this. I’m working on me.”
She rolls her eyes while plating the meat on the platter. “While falling in love with your neighbor.”
“I’m not falling in love with him.” Not really anyway. “Subsequently he saw us leave.”
That piques her interest as her head pops up, her brown eyes growing rounder. “He did, huh?”
“It’s a mess, Bridge. A mess. All of this is. David called tonight before your arm candy came and picked me up. The things he told me…” I trail off, shaking my head, my stomach roiling as I think about our conversation. My parents and twin sister set up my husband for blackmail. How do I make sense of that? I legit don’t know.
“More threats and abuse?”
“No. He knows it’s over. It was about my parents and Cat.”
“Fucking assholes,” she grumbles as she tosses the roasted vegetables with salt and pepper before pouring them all onto a serving dish around the pork. “You’ll tell me everything later?” She checks, and I nod. “Don’t let them get wind of who your neighbor is. Billions trump millions any day, and they’ll be all over Dr. Fritz in no time flat.”
Yet another reason I should stay away from Landon. Those reasons are mounting faster than a champion food eater scarfing down hotdogs.
“I like him, and I wish I didn’t, and then you sent this cute guy to pick me up, and Landon was there, and he and I are already…”
She looks up, tongs poised in her hand.
“I just… I need a breather, you know? I need a moment to think and get my head on straight. It’s like life is coming at me from all sides, and I don’t have the right racquet to swing and smack it away with.”
“What?”
“Shut up. Pretend like that made sense and be my friend.”
“Okay.” She holds up a consolatory hand. “But Aaron is drama-free and totally stable and normal for whatever that’s worth.”
“Knock it off. Whatever you’re trying to do, please stop now.”
“I’m sorry. I won’t try to set you up again. But keep an open mind about Aaron. He’s… normal.”
“When has normal ever been something I liked?”
“That football player you dated sophomore year was normal.”
I snicker. “He was not. He was the quarterback. He plays professional football now.”
“You clearly have a type. How does Landon fit into that?”
I think on that for a second before lifting my head in her direction. “Maybe because he’s the opposite of that? I mean, he’s tall and built like a tank. But… he’s smarter. Rigid and unrelenting one second and yet so soft and tender the next. Especially with Stella. I think my type is my problem.”
“And now you’re in love with a famous billionaire. A broken single dad doctor. You’re a Lifetime Original Movie waiting to happen, and I do not mean that in a good way.”
I get her meaning and then some, and I sag, dropping my elbows to her counter while Bridget puts the finishing touches on dinner.
“I’m not getting together with him. I just don’t want to get together with anyone else.”
“Fine. I get it.” She squeezes my shoulder. “I do, and I’ll back off on setting you up. Let’s go eat before my masterpiece gets cold.”