Doing It for Love(12)

"His parents do this, too?"

"Yeah. It's messed." Alec stretches out, cracking his neck. "Honestly, I thought he'd argue with whoever he ended up with."

"We do argue." I laugh.

"Nah. You may tease the hell out of each other. But you don't fight over dumb shit. I even see him let stuff go when I know he thinks you're wrong. I don't think he wants that fighting crap for his future."

And yet we had a fight right before he left for his movie shoot today.

I twist to my stomach and pick at the carpet. Landon's from Philadelphia, I'm from Georgia (go Falcons!). We grew up worlds apart and met in New York. Parental introductions seemed like something that would happen when we visited them or vice versa. I wonder … "Should I be worried?" 

"His parents argue every decision he makes." Alec shrugs. "You're something I don't think he wants to argue about."

"Well, I'm awesome. Maybe they won't want to argue this decision." I point to my ring, and he shakes his head.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

I give him a dirty look and push on his head. Way to make me totally self-conscious. And here I thought it'd be my parents who'd be the problem.

My phone buzzes with a text from Landon saying he'll be home in an hour. I blow out a sigh and Alec pats my leg.

"I'm gonna head out. See ya at work."

"Can I get a ride tomorrow?"

"Sure."

I walk him to the elevator, give him a hug, and trudge back to my apartment. Theresa's snuggled into the cushions, and I settle a blanket over her and clean up our food. Landon says an hour, but sometimes that means two. So I click off all the lights-minus the one over the oven-and curl up with Theresa on the other side of the couch in case she wakes up and doesn't know where she is. She gets night terrors occasionally and almost hit Landon with a bat once when he came home at, like, three, and she had crashed on the couch. Best to have reinforcements.

I stare at the collage wall, not really being able to see the pictures in detail, but I'm familiar with them enough to know what's where. Me and my mom at the beach. Dad with Spider-Man in Times Square. My cousin with Theresa at prom so she didn't have to go alone. All in all, a pretty awesome family, even if Mom passive-aggressively argues with me about marrying so young.

Landon talks about his family like he loves them. I've asked about his sister, knew that he never got along with her, but that they had good times, too. He loves his dad to pieces. I know that because he talks wonders about his father. And he says his mom is crazy, totally losing her mind, and can't remember things from yesterday, but he loves her, too. I feel like I know his family without ever meeting them. But I don't. And I can't help but freak out a little that my first meeting with them will be because I'm marrying Landon. Talk about pressure.

I wonder if he feels the same way about meeting my family.

Somewhere between worry and talking myself out of it, I find my mind drifting off, hanging out in the between-sleep. The lock clicks. Landon's work scent filters into my nose. Shoes slide off. Keys jangle. I don't know how, but I hear a smile. I feel strong arms under my thighs, on my back, lifting my body as if I'm weightless. My hands find broad shoulders. My cheek rests against a damp-with-sweat shirt. Cool sheets meet my skin moments later.

Rough hands undress me, taking extra caution not to skate over any off-limits areas. My body is so relaxed I can't find it in me to help him, but he sits me up, slips a giant T-shirt over my head, and settles me back into the pillows. A press of sweet, warm lips to mine follows, and I want to kiss back, but I'm on a sleep-delay, not able to respond fast enough.

"Good night, Tumbles," he says, brushing my hair back. I think I drift off again, because when I feel Landon against me in the bed he smells freshly showered and his hair is wet. His arms wrap me up tight, and he holds me close to his chest. The thump thump thump of his heart sounds faster than normal, waking me from the in-and-out sleep.

"Are you okay?" I mumble.

"I missed you."

"I missed you too."

"Just a couple more months of this, I promise."



       
         
       
        

I nod, not wanting to say it'll be like this again when he goes into hard-core edits. It's nice being held, and it's too late to tease him.

He takes a deep breath. "Can I take you away next weekend?"

"Where?" I ask, intrigued, but still too tired to respond in anything but a groggy voice.

"Philly."

My eyes flutter open. I gaze up at him in the dark, the hard lines of his mouth, the worry wrinkles in his forehead. I smooth them out with my fingers and press a kiss to the corner of his lips.

"I don't know if we can afford the drive."

"I know. But I'll work extra. And I won't spend money." He pushes my hair back. "Please? It's … important."

My heart's thumping hard now. I know it's important. I know it has to happen. Alec's even warned me about who I'll be meeting.

So I snake my arm around his torso and squeeze.

"Okay."





Chapter 9


SEPTEMBER

Something is dying in my stomach. I get major butterflies when I'm nervous, but these butterflies are possessed. Devil butterflies. And they're beating their iron wings against my innards so hard I have to clutch my gut and beg Landon to pull over again.

"What did you eat?" he jokes as I bolt out of the car. I haven't eaten anything-can't imagine what my stomach would feel like if I had.

Breathe in, breathe out. Oh, sweet cherry pie, I may hurl. Cars whiz past behind me as I latch onto my knees and prepare to throw ladylike out the window.

This is just like that time on the Rock-O-Plane at thirteen with Justin Prescott, the only preteen who didn't have an awkward phase. His pinky touched mine and we rocked, and from then on I was known as "Blue Slurpee" as it went flying from my stomach.

Somewhere behind me I hear the car door. Landon's gonna touch me, and I don't want him to. Blue Slurpee needs to puke in peace. But his hand hits my upper back even after I wave at him not to step another foot closer.

"Do you want some water?"

I shake my head, continuing to breathe out like I'm in labor. Landon tucks my ponytail into the back of my T-shirt, and I manage to say, "Thanks" between breaths.

What is this nonsense? Stupid stomach. Stupid nerves. They need to back the hell off and let me be a strong, confident woman. Or at least let me fake it for the weekend.

"You okay, Tumbles? You're all sweaty."

Eww, he's right. Maybe I do need that water.

"Hang tight," Landon says, and clearly my thoughts have run out of my mouth again. I wipe my brow with a shaky hand and curse at the ground like it's at fault for my inability to handle pressure. 

Landon hands me a Dasani and I take small sips. The September wind picks up and that helps the sweats. After a minute I think the devil butterflies have been exorcised.

"Do we need to head back?" he asks, adjusting his faded blue Miller cap. "If you're sick we can reschedule, no problem."

"I'm fine." I take another swig of water. "Not sick, just … "

A cocky smile pops up on his mouth. "Aww, Lizzie. You're nervous."

"I am not."

"There go your pants again." He pulls me into a hug, which I don't return. "Will it help if I say I know they'll love you?"

"Of course they will. I'm awesome," I grumble into his T-shirt, but really, what if they don't? What if this weekend is a living hell? What if they think it's all a big joke that Landon brought home this twenty-two-year-old posing as a fiancée just to piss them off, and damn it those iron-winged butterflies just reincarnated and want to explode out my belly button.

Landon rubs a soothing hand up and down my back. "You know what helps with nerves?"

"Alcohol."

"Sex."

"Are you giving in?"

"No."

"Sounds like you are."

"Please. I don't even know how long it's been."

Three very long weeks. "Me neither."

"I am seriously concerned about your pants. We should get you fire-resistant ones."

I shake my head, burying it farther into his chest. "Can we stop somewhere? I haven't eaten."

"Well, that's why you're sick!"

He pulls me back to the car, and I try not to think about spending money while we drive to the next rest stop. I've got too much stress on my plate as it is, and when Landon's hand squeezes my thigh twice before staying there to rest, I have to ignore the throb in my lady regions screaming at me that "Yeah, girl. Sex would seriously help right now!"

Damn him.

-

"This is it."

Landon turns the ignition off in front of a nice house in the middle of a noisy neighborhood. Kids are playing basketball down the street, a dog barks at a beefy man jogging past a fence, and there's an old lady with a cat on her porch, a cat in her lap, and a cat on the patio table next to her. She yells at that "damn dog" to "quiet its trap," and I crack a smile.

"You have a cat lady in your neighborhood." I look at Landon. "A for real cat lady."

"Uh … that's my mom."

I feel all the color drain from my face. Before I can apologize, Landon laughs and I smack him.