Page 45 of Landon & Shay: Part Two

“Are we really talking about orgasms at Sunday dinner?” I asked, still baffled.

Mom’s phone dinged, and she eagerly went to respond. Her cheeks turned rosy, and she turned her back away from us for a moment as she began typing back. “Sorry, it was the humane society. They said I can pick up Bella tonight if I come when I’m done here!” she exclaimed.

“See? Don’t you miss that, Shannon Sofia?” Mima asked, gesturing toward my mother. “Even though your mother is showcasing that excitement over a mutt, it’s still exciting. Something that makes your heart race faster and faster.”

“No thanks. I’m not into heart attacks.”

Mima frowned. “When did you become so unromantic? You used to live for good love stories. You still write love stories, but you’re telling me that you don’t believe in love anymore?”

“I can write love stories, and not believe in the concept, Mima. I doubt Melissa Mathison and Steven Spielberg believed in E.T., but they did a great job creating that film. Besides, my relationship is fine.”

“Fine,” Mima huffed, waving her hand toward me in dismissal. “No one wants to befinein a relationship. You want to be alive.”

“Maybe we should drop this conversation,” I offered. I didn’t want to talk about Sam anymore, and luckily, Mom was quick to go on and on about Bella. Still, I kept thinking about Mima’s comments about Sam and our lackluster romance. Sam and I might not have had massive fireworks shooting from our hearts, but our little sparklers were justfine.

On the way out, Mima packed me up some leftovers, and placed her hands on my cheeks. “I hope you know that my worry and concern for your romantic life comes from a place of love, Shannon Sofia. I fear that if you keep down this road of hardness with your heart, that soon it will turn to stone.”

I gave her a lazy smile, leaned in, and kissed her chin. “Don’t worry, Mima. This heart of mine is still beating.”

Just not solely for the attention of men.

“Think about taking your boyfriend to that whiskey party Greyson East is throwing. It might be good for you to reveal him to the world there.”

I shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”

My cousin, Eleanor, had recently invited me to join her at Greyson’s autumn whiskey launch. It was supposed to be a huge event with red carpets, celebrities and ex-boyfriends.

I thought back to the moment Eleanor informed me Landon was going to be at the event. I tried my best to play it cool and pretend the butterfly of nerves weren’t swirling in my stomach. “That was a long time ago. Ancient history,” I told her.

Eleanor laughed a little. “I remember saying the same thing about Greyson when I took this job.”

“So, are you finally admitting you have feelings for Grey?”

“No,” she quickly recanted. “All I’m saying is, even if it’s ancient history, it’s still history nonetheless. I wanted to make sure you were okay with going if Landon was there.”

“Of course.” I nodded. “It’s fine. All my feelings for Landon died ages ago. Plus, we are both adults. I think I can handle being in the same room as him. It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m great. So good. Fine.” I said fine one too many times, sounding like Ross fromFriendswhen he found out Joey and Rachel were dating.

I’m fiiiine.

Still, I’d been thinking about the party ever since I was invited. Thinking about Landon and what I’d say to him—if I’d say anything. Maybe Mima was right. Maybe I should’ve taken Sam with me and used him as a bit of a shield. I was just trying to understand why that idea made me so uneasy.

After dinner, I arrived at my apartment building with a desperate need for a bottle of wine, and a bubble bath soak. After leaving the battlefield of love at Mima’s, I always ended up needing to decompress. It began raining after I left and of course there was no umbrella to be found in my car.

As I hopped out of my car, I grabbed my purse and keys, then held my coat over my head as the rain hammered down on me. I hopped from puddle to puddle, getting soaked as my body became chilled from the deluge. As I rounded the corner of the building toward the front steps, I paused a moment when I saw a poor, pathetic man sitting there getting soaked from head to toe with his head bent down as he tried to shield himself from the rain with his hands. A terrible attempt at a shield, if I did say so myself. His blond hair lay plastered to his forehead as he shivered in the cold.

He looked…pathetic.

Pathetically rich, that is.

I looked to his feet and saw designer Gucci shoes. Holding his pants in place was a sparkle of gold from his matching Gucci belt. What could I say? I had an eye for expensive things I could never afford.

“Did you get locked out?” I asked, feeling bad for the well-dressed schmuck who was probably seconds away from catching pneumonia. “Or do you need me to knock on someone’s apartment door once I get inside? Our buzzing machine has been on the fritz all week long and—”

My words died away as the strange, soaking wet man lifted his head to look at me. The world became dizzying as those eyes locked with mine.

Those eyes.

Those devilishly delicious blue eyes.

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