Doing It for Love(21)

"Lizzie?" Landon said, peeking from the covers. He trapped my lips between two fingers. "Never talk about my parents in bed."

"But-"

"No."

"But-"

"Never."

"But … you started it."

He shook his head and let go of my lips. "I'm ending it, too."

"Yes, Daddy," I joked, and he proceeded to tickle me silly. No talk of parents ever crossed the bedsheets again. But I'm seriously considering it now.

"Botflies."

"What?" I muffle into my pajama bottoms. Landon sits up next to me, the screen on his phone lit.

"We're watching bot fly videos."

He holds the phone out and hits play. Two seconds in I'm already cringing.

"Eww. Why-"

"Because I need some damn sleep."

I flick my gaze to his face, dark circles in the light of his phone, bloodshot eyes, and hair an adorable mess. His shirt is twisted, and the waistband of his boxers is so wrinkled it looks as if he's been fisting them all night just to keep his hands under control. A sleepy laugh pours from my mouth. I tuck under his arm, keep my hands to myself while he keeps his on his phone in front of us, and we watch disgusting bot fly YouTube videos until the sexual tension dissipates. Only thing is … I still want to touch him, even after the mood is broken.



       
         
       
        

Tomorrow I'll get him to cave. But tonight, I'll settle for the draw.

-

There's dust on my exercise bike. I sigh, clap my hands, and pull it to the center of the room. I'm out of breath by the time I get it in front of the TV.

"Well, that's enough exercise for me," I say to myself and go to set up the rest of the room. I alternate between rolling out a yoga mat and eating my Butterfinger, putting out weights and eating my Butterfinger, and bouncing on my exercise ball and eating my Butterfinger. Now the final touches … the spray bottle to my face, neck, and stomach … and a fan to my nipples to make them perky. I'd use other ways to get them to stand out, but I'm no cheater.

I make sure there's plenty of "sweat sheen" along my hairline and cleavage, and then set the bottle down in the bathroom and grab the mini fan. I'm blowing my nipples to a point and chewing the last bite of my Butterfinger while sitting on the dusty exercise bike when I hear Landon's key in the door.

Swallowing the chocolate, I chuck the wrapper across the room-miraculously making it in the garbage, move the fan to my face, and heave my breasts with fake labored breathing. Chocolateville, here I come!

Landon shuffles through the doorway, eyes tired and … red-rimmed. I instantly stop pretending to exercise.

"What's wrong?"

He tosses his hoodie on the card table, shuts the door quietly behind him, and trudges over to the bike. His lips peck mine briefly, and it's so lackluster and sad it feels as if someone stole his lunch money.

"Babe?" I prod, setting my hand on top of his.

"Been trying to get ahold of you," he says, voice gravelly and low. I reach for my pocket, but my yoga pants don't have any.

"Oh, sorry, I was … working out." I frown at my lame answer, at the fact that it's pretty much a lie, too. "What is it?"

He flips his palm under mine and pulls me from the bike. He plays with my fingers, with my ring, and I'm trying not to lose patience while he stays lost in thought. In the four years since I've known him, I've never seen him cry. I've seen him get frustrated, kick things, and walk away. I've seen him sad and he doesn't shed a tear. He sits in silence, deep in thought or attempting not to think at all. I've seen him drop a bag of cans on his foot, slice his thumb with a knife, wrench his ankle into a brace … and not a drop fell from his eyes-but a whole lot of cursing tumbled from his lips.

He's not crying now, but the redness of his eyes suggests he was recently. Did someone die? Did he hit a dog on the way home? Does he want to cancel the wedding? I step into him so he remembers I'm here, and I still know nothing. 

"We had a meeting at work today."

"Okay."

"Things are getting slow."

My heart thuds. "Did you … did they do layoffs?" I'm trying to keep my voice steady, but it's pretty much useless. We're already struggling, and Landon's directing isn't paying anything yet, and my hours at Bed Bath & Beyond are about as high as I can make them without living there. Suddenly even that dress at a discount seems out of my reach.

But then Landon shakes his head, and my tiny panic moment subsides a bit.

"Not yet. But they cut everyone's hours to avoid layoffs."

"How much?"

"Down to thirty-two a week, so we can still legally be full-time and keep our benefits."

I let out a breath. That's not bad. At least he still has a job.

His eyes close and his forehead plops down on mine. "I'm sorry. I should've worked more overtime when I could have. I should've rescheduled the trip to Philly. I should've given you my credit card, stopped spending money on dumb shit, I should've-"

"Stop. We'll be okay."

"Because of you. Because you know how to budget and work overtime and actually work for money."

"You'll get paid to direct, Landon. You just have to put in your dues."

He shakes his head and lets out a breath of defeat. "What was I thinking?"

My heart breaks a little … at seeing him feel so helpless, like he's failed somehow. But he has no idea how incredible he is.

I don't think any words can help at this point. I could try to pacify him, tell him we'll be okay, that we have a savings, I'll keep working overtime, and at least I'm not pregnant right now … but I know it won't help. It'll probably make him feel worse … that I have to pick up his slack or something, even though this is a partnership. So instead of words, I slide my arms around his neck, hold him close, squeeze him tight, make him understand how important he is in my life.

His arms circle my waist, and our hearts beat with each other in our suddenly quiet world. I think the power of a hug is always underestimated until you're in one. I know I should be worried. I'm pretty sure there are parts of me that are freaking out about not only bills and rent, but also about my dress, the cake, the tuxes, the wedding hall, and the honeymoon. But those parts are quiet, almost nonexistent in the arms of the man I love.

He squeezes my entire body twice. And I squeeze back once.

"You know what I think you need?" I say over his shoulder. A small laugh shakes his body and I know what he's thinking, but neither of us says it out loud. "I think you need sleep."

"Pretty sure you need that, too."

I lean back, take his hand in mine, and pull him toward the bed. "Come on, then."

He tucks me in on my side and stays on top of the blanket on his. We spoon, and I play with his rough hands, run my fingers over the hair on his arms, enjoy being close and hoping I'm helping him doze off.

"It's working," he says.

"Huh?"

"You're shutting down my mind."

"Good."

He presses closer, letting his face fall into the crook of my neck. "And don't think I don't know what you were trying to do when I walked in."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"The bike wasn't even on."

"You have to turn it on?"

He silently chuckles. "You want me to help you put it back after our nap?"

"Yes, please."



       
         
       
        

"I love you, Tumbles."

"I love you, too."

And I swear, two seconds later he's out. I don't drift off, but I also don't mind lying next to him for as long as he sleeps.





Chapter 15


"Wedding Gods, we need your hel-"

"Goddesses."

I sigh, dropping Theresa's hand and opening one eye to look at her. "What?"

"I'm just saying, if we want to get your dress, we should probably talk to the ladies up there," she says, gesturing to the ceiling in the Bed Bath & Beyond storage room. Alec covers his laugh with a cough and I nudge him with my knee.

"All right … Wedding Goddesses, we need your help."

"My friends have gone insane," Alec interrupts, and I nudge him again. Theresa bites back her laugh, and I ignore them both, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.

"THE dress needs to be in the winter sale."

"Shit, I forgot the glitter."

I drop my friends' hands again and slump my shoulders. "What?"

"We have to toss glitter in the air," Theresa says, throwing her arms out like she's actually tossing glitter. "Otherwise it won't work."

Alec nods. "Yeah, and the glitter has to be from a fairy's ass."

"Like Peter Pan."

"Tinker Bell didn't poop glitter."

"How do you even know that?"

"I babysit."

They both laugh, and I shove from my spot on the floor. "Y'all are fired."

"Sorry, Liz," Theresa says, but her smile is still on and she's sharing a look with Alec. "We'll be good."

"Nope. You've offended the Wedding Goddesses. We have to chant around an empty hanger now."