"I get some money quarterly from my parents. I don't have a house or any debt. I make money at the tables and can buy whatever I need with that. I just don't need much."
"Besides nice suits and a nice car and nice dinners out and nice women to take home."
"I don't think most of the women I bring home are that nice. Sexy? Yes. Willing? Very. But nice? No. I take home women who want the same thing as me. One night to forget that our lives are quite shallow."
"Why do you live like that, then? If you know it's shallow?"
"I've never had this overwhelming need to be something. And frankly, I've never had anyone require me to be more than I am."
I sigh, knowing he's being brutally honest about his life. I appreciate it, his transparency, especially when I've been so fake with him.
But his honesty also reminds me why these feelings I have been waffling with-the lust turned passion turned Could he and I be something more?-is just a ridiculous fantasy that will end up with me crushed.
Landon has no interest in the life I lead. He doesn't want to be the sort of man I need. A reliable job, a family insurance plan. A car with room for a booster seat. A willingness to take a family vacation to Disneyland. That's why I've always looked for relationships with guys on bowling leagues, who have toolboxes in their garages. Those guys are the sort of men who want a family.
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."
"Fuck, you are perfectly right."
"Well, I'm a mom. I know things."
"Can I ask you something?"
Claire gives me a sidelong glance. "Is it going to upset me?"
"Why, you only like it when people ask you easy questions?"
She moans. "Just ask me, Landon. We both know you're going to regardless."
"Okay," I smile, enjoying how close she and I have become, and feeling like asking this question isn't totally out of bounds. "Who is Sophia's father?"
She sighs, closes her eyes.
"Sorry," I say immediately. "That was inappropriate."
"No, it's not. You've put up with my secrets. My dishonesty," she says, picking at lint on her sweater that doesn't exist. "I just really, really don't like talking about it."
"Is he in the picture anymore?" I want to know. I need to know. Because I am falling for her, so hard. And, at the moment, I don't really know her real story.
"No," she says adamantly. "Not even a little." Her eyes fill with tears, and I know this subject is getting really personal, really quick. But isn't everything between us getting really personal, really quick?
"Okay," I say slowly, nodding. "I don't need the torrid details. I just wanted to know if you were single."
She laughs, wiping her tears. "Landon, before you, I hadn't slept with anyone in five years. Since Sophia's dad and I ... so, no. There is no other guy."
"That is a bloody long time not to shag."
"Don't," she says, warily.
"Don't what?"
"Use words like shag. What is this, Austin Powers circa 1996?"
"So I can't use the word shag, but can we? Do the actual shagging?" I roll her on top of me, and I know by the dreamy look in her eyes that she's game.
"I thought we had to dress for dinner? Suits and heels, et cetera. I don't think those jeans and this sweater are going to cut it."
"They won't. We do have to dress for dinner," I tell her, stealing a kiss on her neck, her ear, her mouth. "But we have to undress first."
"You're brilliant, you know that? But I need to shower first."
"Even better."
Chapter Eighteen
Claire
It doesn't take long for us to move from the bed to the en suite bathroom. He strips and I rip off my top and bottoms and we cross the carpeted floor. He turns on the water in the two-person shower, and we step inside.
"I've never had so much sex in my life, just so you know," I tell him, as water from the double showerhead pours over me.
"I think we are all pretty clear on the how-little-Claire-has-had-sex front." Landon wraps an arm around my waist. "We have a lot of years to make up for."
My hands press against his hard chest, and damn, it really is solid. His body is exquisite. His muscles are ripped, his shoulders straight and strong. Everything about him declares his power, his control, his absolute sex appeal.
"You're so hot, Landon. Like, I knew it the first time I saw you naked in the hotel ... but I swear, every time I look at you there's another muscle in your arms, another dimple in your cheek, another color in your irises. You just get sexier by the minute. It isn't fair."