Return to Virgin River (Virgin River #19)(28)

“Not plenty,” she said. “There are some, but they’re hard to get. I have to be honest with myself. It’s not going to take me where I always wanted to go.”

He rubbed a hand around the back of his neck. “I have to admit, that surprises me. I thought you had the stamina for the long haul.”

“But not the enthusiasm,” she said. She took a sip of her drink. “I want us to try again.”

His head jerked up in surprise. “Try what again?” he asked.

“Marriage. Our marriage. That year we had together was the happiest year of my life.”

“And yet you left it,” he said. “You chose acting. We fought it out and you chose acting and career over marriage. For a while there you wouldn’t even admit you were married.”

“That was just PR bullshit to make me seem more desirable, more available, to convince people I wouldn’t flutter off the job and leave them all hanging. That didn’t last long. We’ve had a long-distance marriage, but—”

“We’ve had no marriage,” he said. “We haven’t slept together in almost a decade!”

“Well, that was your choice,” she said.

“Yes, it was,” he said. “When I realized I’d seen you for less than twelve days in a year, it was very clear that you had no investment in our marriage. I didn’t want to be a booty call. That might’ve been enough for you, but it wasn’t enough for me.”

“And yet we never divorced,” she reminded him.

“There didn’t seem to be any pressing need,” he said. “I had no interest in marrying again. I figured you’d file for divorce.”

“But I didn’t want a divorce! I wanted to be married!”

“To a man you saw for less than a month out of every year?”

“I loved you,” she said. “I always loved you! And you loved me. We were good friends.”

“We were friends,” he said. “I don’t know if we were even really that. We got along. We talked on the phone regularly but it was more like talking to a cousin or sister, not a wife. Take a trip down memory lane, Laura. After two years of your chasing stardom we had a blowout. I drew a line in the sand—we had to either find a way to live together or call it quits. You argued that there was no way to live together, that your work was either in Hollywood or on location, that it was your dream, that you worked hard for it and couldn’t give it up without at least giving it an earnest try. I said I was done with the trying. I offered up every compromise I could think of but you wanted me on the sidelines. That’s when I came back here to live and work.”

“It’s not like we’ve ever been out of touch,” she said.

“We talk on the phone!” he said. “We meet in San Francisco if I’m visiting the galleries. We don’t even share a hotel room on those occasions. We’re not even good friends!”

“We’re very good friends! You’re my best friend! I’ve always loved you!”

He took a deep drink. “Laura, you need to raise your standards. Your idea of friendship is really lacking.”

Her eyes got teary. “I’m sorry, Landry. I failed at everything. I never should have wasted so much time on acting if it was going to come to nothing. I never should have given you up. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. I want us to be together. Please say you’ll try again.”

“I think that ship has sailed, Laura. No matter how I feel about you, the trust just isn’t there. I’d be waiting to see you get out the suitcase every day.”

“But wait,” she said. “Remember when we used to go to the outdoor movies, to the foreign films, to the galleries and street vendors? Remember our picnics in Union Square? Sitting on a bench and people watching? Our drives up the coast to the fish house? To the Russian River? We were young and carefree and so happy. We can’t be young anymore but—”

“I think too many years have passed,” he said.

“We can start over,” she said. “We have the love. We just need the time together.”

“I have a different kind of life now,” he said. “I’ve lived alone for ten years. I’m solitary and you need a lot of people. I agree, there was a time we had fun; it seemed we were compatible. But Laura, you walked away. And you didn’t want me to tag along.”

“It was a practical issue,” she said. “And maybe I was foolish but I thought once I landed a really good role and didn’t have to sell my soul for work, then we could get it together. Please, I’m ready to give it up for us. Will you at least think about it?”

“I can’t help but think about it,” he said. “But I don’t think it would benefit either one of us.”

“Take a week,” she pleaded. “Please.”

“Where did this come from?” he asked. “Did something happen? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“No, of course not, unless you call complete failure to achieve my goals trouble. This just isn’t working. I’ve given up, Landry. I want a sane life again.”

“In a little house in the mountains with a dog? And a guy and his pots?” He shook his head. “There are no theaters or spas or fancy restaurants here. You wouldn’t last a month. And it would probably leave me scarred. Again.”