Or at least, could handle a family.
Landon just explained his existence. And none of it involved PTA meetings.
“You look so damn serious, Claire.”
“Just. Jet lag, I guess.”
“Would you like to take a nap? I’ll let you be.”
“Thanks, Landon. I just need to call Sophia and then rest.”
He flips off the overhead light as he leaves the bedroom, and I switch on the lamp. Then I pick up my phone from the bedside table.
Me: Hey Mom, Sophia there?
Mom: She is, want to FaceTime?
I press the FaceTime button and they pick up right away.
“Hey sweet pea,” I coo. “You look like you’re having fun with Gram.”
Sophia is holding a paintbrush and has construction paper all over the kitchen table.
Mom flips the phone to her own face. “She insisted on painting you a picture.”
“What is it?” I ask Sophia, whose smile fills my darkened room.
“It’s you at a garden. Gram showed me pictures of English gardens. Can you take me there someday?”
“I’d love to. There are pretty gardens here. I’ll send Gram some pictures okay?”
“You having fun with your friend?” she asks, dipping her brush in a pot of green paint.
“I am. We’re getting along really well.”
“Good. You need friends, remember?” She looks up at the phone, her green eyes matching the scene she’s painting.
“I remember.” My mind instantly goes to Emmy and Tess ... and the way I’ve kept so much from them. Can I really be called their friend when I am basically an imposter? “I love you,” I tell her.
“I love you, too, Mama.”
We hang up and I tuck the phone under my pillow, reaching to turn off the light.
I suddenly feel very far from home.
Landon
When I go to check on Claire five hours later her eyes are still closed, the light’s still off. I immediately try to retreat. But my entrance stirs her awake.
“Landon?” she asks, sitting up. “Is that you?”
“I didn’t mean to wake you. I just wanted to make sure you were still alive.”
“I’m alive,” she says, reaching to turn on the lamp.
“Everyone’s dressing for dinner.”
“Dressing for dinner? That’s an actual thing?”
“I know; the British are bloody formal.”
“You’re so cute when you speak like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like, you. You are just really cute in general.”
I sit next to her, wanting this moment to last. Her nap put her in a good mood.
“I think you’re still sleepy. You sound delirious.”
“I’m not.” She props up in the bed.
Her rumpled clothes and messy hair are endearing. As is everything about this woman. I want to tell her that I actually am falling for her ... in a way that is much more real than it ever was with Winnie. Than it has ever been before.
But I have no reason to think she’ll believe me. She doesn’t see me as a real man, a real option—especially after I revealed the state of my fucking finances, which was a stupid idea.
Being honest only made me look like a worthless shit.
If I get the company, then I’ll have something of worth. Something to give her and Sophia.
If I don’t get the company, she would never want a man like me. I just wish there were a way to show her my intentions were true.
Not that I know exactly what my intentions are ... but they are more than her being my fake fiancée.
“I wanted to tell you, I’m sorry I got you a loaner engagement ring,” I tell her. “After Geoffrey declared it at the table, I kind of felt douchey for not mentioning it.”
“Landon, if you’d had actually spent a jillion dollars on a ring for a fake engagement, I think I’d have to chop off your balls.”
“You get so intense, Claire. I never want to cross you.”
She smiles and I push her over, so I can sit in bed next to her.
“What did you do all afternoon?” she asks.
“Tried to talk with my Dad about The King’s Diamond. But he was being really squeamish about it all.”
“Squeamish? What do you mean?”
“Well, he kept asking more about you, about the property in Vegas, about a potential family trip to Greece. I don’t know, it was all very strange.”
Claire snorts. “You are so out of touch with reality, Landon.”
“What do you mean?”
“It sounds like you father wanted to talk to his son. About his life. That shouldn’t make you feel squeamish. That’s called your dad being nice. Thoughtful. Considerate. He’d be a jerk if all he wanted to discuss was money and business.”