The memory of landing the Windy City account brought with it memories he'd prefer to forget. Like the moment he and Kimber had eaten potato chips in his bed. The way he'd shoved a handful into his mouth and she'd laughed as she brushed crumbs off his body. The cute way she wrinkled her nose and smiled whenever he did something she didn't expect.
Way to go, bonehead. You've tied a painfully present memory to something you can't escape for the rest of your days. Windy City's brand was everywhere. Every local sandwich shop, grocery store, the framed ads adorning the walls of his office building. He studied the ad for the jalapeño ranch flavor hanging outside his office, his thoughts on Kimber.
He hadn't spoken to her since he left her apartment that night. She'd e-mailed him about a doctor's appointment she had coming up. He'd entered it in his calendar, unsure if she wanted him there, but he planned on showing up anyway. If for no other reason than to catch a glimpse of her when she walked outside. If something went wrong, even if it didn't, he wouldn't let her go through her pregnancy alone. He was here for her. And if that didn't matter to her, it mattered to him.
After an uneventful flight to Osborn, Ohio, he drove to his father's house with the radio loud. But like during the plane ride, he couldn't keep his mind off Kimber. He turned the rental car onto his father's street, when his phone rang.
Lissa? What the hell?
He pulled the car over at the end of the street, a few houses away. No way did he want Dad overhearing this conversation … whatever it was about.
He cleared his throat and answered with a curt, "This is Landon."
"Hi. It's Lissa. Francine."
"I don't think a last name is necessary."
"I know. I just." A sob. "I need to talk to you."
Despite all he'd been through with her, despite the fact that she'd left him, despite that she'd made him a publicity stunt, he felt for her. He may not have been in love with her, but he'd cared about her. Caring wasn't something one could simply turn off. Not even him.
"Carson left me, Landon. He went back to his fat ex-girlfriend." She sobbed again, the sound muffled by sniffling.
"I'm sorry." He meant that. Which surprised him. Whatever bitterness he'd harbored while watching the amateur video of Lissa sliding lips with Carson had vanished. No, not vanished. Had been absorbed. Kimber had taken it from him. Soaked in his ambivalence, the hardness that had made him a terrible partner in the past. She'd infected him with her softness, her vulnerability.
" … come back?" Lissa was saying. "Maybe we could try one more time."
He snapped back to present, her comment as sobering as a slap to the face. "You want me back." So that's what this phone call was about. Lissa was lonely.
"Please, Landon. I never stopped caring about you. I never stopped wanting you." That wasn't hope in her voice. It was desperation.
"Yes, you did," he stated. "When you left. You stopped wanting me on a dime, Lissa."
Her sobbing stopped abruptly. "You're the same as you always were, do you know that?"
But he wasn't. "How would you know?"
She didn't answer him, only continued her self-indulgent speech. "You're the same pompous jackhole you've always been. You shut down your feelings when things get hard. Did you ever think if you'd actually shown me how you feel you could've held on to me? If you'd let me see who you really were, maybe I wouldn't have left your stuffy ass for Carson Robbins."
Her tirade didn't upset him. If he'd have told her how he "actually" felt, she would've left him sooner. "If that's true, then why do you want me back? Why would you want to be with a man who shut you out and pushed you away? Wouldn't you rather have a man who told you, no matter the cost, how much he loves you?"
Like you should have done with Kimber. Idiot.
Lissa was railing, volume escalating, her vocabulary becoming less refined and beginning to smack of the trailer park she'd prided herself on escaping. She ended the call with name-calling, which she knew he hated. Then she hung up on him. Which he also hated.
Shaking his head, he threw his car into drive and peeled into his father's driveway. Scotch was calling his name.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Red and blue balloons tied with silver ribbons were strung throughout Aiden's house. Aiden stood on a chair tying another pair of balloons to the curtain rod.
"We're here," their father, Mike, announced as he and Landon walked through the open front door.
"Hey, Pop. Landon, you made it. Nice!" Aiden climbed down and met them at the door. Mike hugged him, then wandered into the kitchen and struck up a conversation with Sadie.
Landon took his first look around at Sadie and Aiden's house. "Good-looking place, bro."
"Yeah." Aiden hugged him, then stepped back to admire their home. "It's modest, but we manage."
"Nothing wrong with modest." Nothing wrong with modest or vintage or simple. Or women who wear your work shirt and play dress-up with your nephew.
Aiden's eyes went to his empty entryway. "Where's Kimber? Lyon said he invited her. Hasn't shut up about her, Evan says."
Great. So Landon had ruined more than his own heart by letting Kimber go. He thought back to what he'd told Lissa last night. Wished that he was the kind of man who could say what he thought, what he felt. Wished he could convince Kimber to come back to him. But she'd made her decision, and he would abide by it.
"She's in Chicago."
Aiden grunted. Landon waited for him to reprimand him, but instead Aiden handed over a roll of tape. "Help me with the rest of these streamers."
He obliged, happy to have something to do with his hands. Evan and Lyon arrived soon after, and Angel an hour after them. She'd left Richie at home, blaming a work assignment and teasingly accusing Landon for forcing weekend labor. Three more kids and their parents filed into the house, friends Lyon played with when he was in town, Landon guessed. Sadie and Angel corralled them into the yard, where tables covered in confetti and games waited.
Landon was about to head out to help with the piñata when Crickitt walked in, her bright blue eyes shadowed by dark circles, her curls in disarray. Shane walked in behind her … carrying the reason for her dishevelment.
"There's my cheeseburger!" Aiden rushed to the carrier before Shane could put it down and extracted the baby girl from the cushioning. She was gorgeous. Dark hair, dark eyes, chubby cheeks. Landon pushed away every thought in his head revolving around Kimber and his child-which was basically all of them.
"Cheeseburger?" Landon tickled the baby under the chin. Wide blue eyes found his and held. The edge of her lips pushed pudgy cheeks aside in an attempt at a smile, nearly breaking him in two. Landon's head flooded with thoughts of Kimber, of their baby, despite doing his best to avoid them.
He took hold of the baby's hand, her fingers clutching his. His eyes started to burn. This was what he'd walked away from. Like Shane's and Crickitt's child was half of each of them, Kimber carried a baby in her womb one part her, one part Landon. He imagined their son or daughter with flame-red hair and bright emerald eyes. Or dark blond hair and hazel eyes like his own. The thought had pain crushing his chest with two thousand pounds of pressure.
"Yeah, Blair Kathleen. BK, as in Burger King." Aiden's voice plucked him out of his morose thoughts. His brother sent Crickitt an approving nod as she shook her head at the silly nickname. Shane and Crickitt had named their daughter after Shane's mother and Landon's mother. Blair August. Kathleen Downey. It was an endearing tribute.
Crickitt shrugged. "My mom didn't want her granddaughter named after her, anyway. She said one Chandra was plenty."
"No kidding," Shane grumbled, and she gave him a playful slap. He grabbed her up and kissed her. Landon's heart gave another envious squeeze.
Aiden handed over their precious bundle, and the family of three wandered into the kitchen.
Over dinner-pizza for the kids and, since Sadie had admittedly ruined Mom's recipe for lasagna, pizza for the adults, too-Landon stayed close to Shane and talked business.
Lifting a bottle of water to his lips, he chugged down half its contents, wetting his parched throat after the salt-laden dinner. The local pizza place was no Giordano's, but pretty good. "So, Aid," he said to his brother who sipped a bottle of beer, "how's the Axle's thing coming along?"
Aiden had made plans to buy five motorcycle shops last year from Axle Zoller, the former owner.
"Right on schedule," Aiden said, keeping his eyes on the kids' table. Sadie looked up from the cake, sparing a smile for her husband, and Landon could have sworn he saw Aiden blush. " 'Scuse me," he said, zooming over to his wife as if he'd been called.