Still Not Over You(51)
I feel like I’m in the way of a weird family reunion, but her entire attention stays on me.
“All I get is a hello and one awkward hug, young lady? I haven’t seen you since you were still all knees and elbows, and I left the old neighborhood. You’ve grown up so lovely.” She laughs, turning her gaze on Landon, one slim hand laying on his arm with a mother’s gentle possessiveness. “Why didn’t you tell me McKenna moved in for the summer, dear?”
Landon makes an embarrassed noise and shrugs. He’s trying to look casual, but he just looks flustered, and I bite my lip on a smile. Adorable.
“It wasn’t a big deal,” he says, every bit the little boy in front of his mother.
“Oh, is that what you think?” Mrs. Strauss gives me a knowing look, her eyes glittering. “Some men wouldn’t know what a big deal was if it landed right in their lap.”
My blush turns volcanic. Are we so obvious?
Does she think we’re a serious couple?
I glance at Landon, but he’s gone kind of glassy with an easy, careful smile that says I’ll get nothing out of him.
Of course not.
Because I’m still his pretend-girlfriend, and we’re just playing house.
I don’t even know what the expiration date on this is. When he doesn’t need someone to watch the house anymore? When I’m done with my novel?
What are we even doing, other than screwing around and avoiding actually looking at ourselves head-on?
I don’t get a chance to dwell on it any longer, though.
If Landon is a hurricane, then Mrs. Strauss is a gentle breeze, but she still moves things when she blows through.
And she manages to get us moving, fussing and fluttering around us the entire time with her graceful airs, to make breakfast. It's almost like old times.
Almost.
*
I wondered if Landon’s mother would stay a few days, but no – she apparently has a habit now of surprising him for breakfast because he never calls home, too busy with Enguard.
Today was just another in a series of typically Shirley Strauss surprises.
She wheeled in for breakfast, charmed us entirely over omelets, and then wheeled out to get back to her life organizing charity work. I’ve never met anyone more gracious than Mrs. Strauss, and even with the awkwardness between me and Landon, there’s still a kind of ease left in Mrs. Strauss’s wake even after her departure.
But I can’t get one thing off my mind.
I was loading the dishes in the dishwasher while Mrs. Strauss and Landon picked up out on the patio, and I’d caught wind of a conversation I probably shouldn’t have heard. Turns out all these open spaces and white marble carry sound way too well.
“Now, Landon,” Mrs. Strauss had said. “I’ve always known you needed a decent woman, but Kenna's a darling. Listen, son. It’s easy to see how you’ve blossomed with her around. I’ve been so worried for you, with everything you’ve been through. But do be a dear and don’t make a mess of this, hm?”
Landon mumbled something that sounded like he was back in little-boy mode, being chastised, which just set Shirley off laughing.
It left me flustered, nearly dropping the dishes, and brooding for long hours after.
Including now, as Landon and I linger on the upstairs deck, looking out across the water and drinking wine. It’s too hot for anything else. Heavier liquor would just feel sickly in this sweltering heat, though I almost wish I was drunk enough for the courage to ask the things I really want to know.
We’re leaning together on the deck swing, quiet and comfortable and taking in the silence.
I don’t want to break it, but so many things are boiling up inside me.
If I won’t ask him the serious questions, I can at least satisfy my curiosity. “Hey, Landon?”
He glances up from a distant contemplation of the waves, his gaze pensive, but clearing as he looks at me. “Yeah?”
“This morning...” I trail off, looking down, tracing my finger around the rim of my wine glass. “Your dad didn’t come up. At all. I mean, not even the smallest mention. Do you not talk about him with your mom?”
He lets out a fierce grunt, and for a moment, I’m afraid he’s about to lock up on me again.
Then he sighs. “She doesn’t know,” he rumbles. “Ma doesn't know a damn thing. I never told her about what Dad was up to. I couldn’t. She’d already lost her husband. I couldn’t let her lose her faith in him, too. But I don’t like talking about him, either. I'm not polishing a dead man's corpse. Not when it’s a lie. Even if I'll throw her a word or two about missing him once in a blue moon.”
“Oh.” I bite my lip, leaning harder into him. My heart sinks, hurting for him. “I’m sorry. I didn't mean –”
“Don’t be.” He shifts, draping his arm across my shoulders, gathering me against his side. “It’s complicated, babe. Took me years to put together what my old man did. Sifted through a billion cold leads. Wherever drugs were mentioned in the media, close to where Crown ran security for warehouses and trade shows. Sniffed out his accomplices, too. His old partner, Reg, was in on all of it. And that’s Reg’s son running Crown Security, Dallas fucking Reese.” He grinds his teeth.
I suppress a shiver. There’s hatred in his voice, but it trails into resignation.