In the Cards(65)

Dear Lindsey,

It’s been a long month here in New York. I’ve been thinking about everything you said, and what I’ve done. I’ve stopped writing because you need space, not because I don’t care. I haven’t given up on us. I’m hoping this picture will remind you of all the good things we share so you don’t spend all your time out there focused on the bad. Maybe if you see it every day, you won’t write me off so quickly.

I miss you. I love you. I wish you’d return to me.

Love,

Rob

I wipe the tear from my cheek and pick up the photo again. He’s right, it does remind me of the good times. The love. The security. The life I had in New York.

Until this summer, everything had seemed relatively easy. Black and white. Now my life is so confusing and complicated. I’m not exactly happy, but I’m not horribly depressed, either. I have one foot in the past, one in the present, and my next step is uncertain.

I lie back on my bed and set the photo on my nightstand next to one of my parents and me. Is Rob still my future? I hear Levi moving around downstairs, which reminds me of our unpleasant conversation about Shari.

Darn it, my head aches. I need a nap.



I wake up around four o’clock and find Levi on the deck. It occurs to me he’s fairly independent at this point. He’s ditched the back brace. He still needs to rest often, but with the exception of driving and lifting heavier objects, he doesn’t really need my help. Any day now he’ll probably move out. The realization saddens me because, for the most part, I’ve enjoyed his company. With that in mind, I choose to ignore our earlier discussion when I go join him on the deck.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Reading.” He holds up Laura Hillenbrand’s Unbroken. I swear, the man’s rarely separated from a book.

“I’ve heard that’s excellent.”

“I just started it, literally. It’s supposed to give the reader a new appreciation for life and hardship.”

“I should probably read it, then.”

“I’ll share.” He smiles, and it gives me an idea.

“Or you can read it aloud. I love being read to.”

I do. My dad used to read to me, even as a teenager. It’s one of the few cozy activities I remember enjoying with him.

Levi’s brows twist in an unusual expression. I’m certain it’s the oddest request he’s ever received from any woman. He shrugs.

“Okay, but I’m starting now. I don’t want to read on your schedule ’cause it’ll never get done.”

I smirk while pulling another lounge chair right beside his. I lie on my side, facing him. For the next thirty minutes, he reads aloud. The harsh afternoon sun beats down on the deck, but the ocean breezes keep us comfortable. Occasionally, a child’s laugh or a dog’s barking cuts through the air and interrupts Levi. Nonetheless, I’m lulled into peaceful contentedness by the cadence and tone of his oh-so-very-sexy voice.

“Are you sleeping?” He slaps the book against his thighs. “If you’re sleeping, I’m gonna be mad because reading aloud slows me down considerably.”

“I’m not sleeping. I’m listening with my eyes closed.” I open one eye and catch him studying me with one brow raised in doubt. “I swear! I heard every word.”

“Okay.” He closes the book and sets it aside. “I need a break. I’m thirsty and hot. I think I should lie in bed because my back’s getting sore.”

Inside, I pour us each a glass of his homemade sweet tea. I’m setting up the Scrabble board by his bed when my mother calls.

“Hi, Mom.” I notice a shadow cross Levi’s face.

“Hi, honey. I’m calling about your birthday. Dad and I are planning to be in Los Angeles next weekend and want to take you out to celebrate.”

“You and Dad will be here? I’d love to see you, but let’s ignore my birthday.”

“Age is only a number, dear. Of course, getting older puts a certain perspective on your future.”

I draw a deep breath, bite my tongue, and let her comment pass. “So, do you and Dad want to stay here with me?” If they come here, Levi will definitely need to move back home. I grimace at the thought.

“No. We’ll be staying in Beverly Hills at the Montage. Your father has a meeting to attend Friday afternoon, so we’ll fly in that morning. I’m tagging along to see you. I’ll have the driver bring me up to your house when we land, and we’ll join your father later for dinner. Unfortunately, we need to return early Saturday morning because of obligations here Saturday night.”

“Wow, that’s quick.” Sadly, I feel relief rather than regret. “Should I make dinner reservations, or does Dad want to pick the restaurant?”