Wedding Bet (Fixer Brothers Construction Co #8)

18. Landry

18

LANDRY

I reclined on the soft leather seat, taking a sip of a fresh apple and ginger juice that I’d just ordered. I’d never loved plane rides, but I’d gotten pretty used to them over the years, after having to travel for business frequently enough to have platinum status rewards points with the airline.

But I’d never hated a flight more than this one.

I stared at the plush, empty seat next to mine, knowing that Jamie could have been sitting right there. I wouldn’t have suggested it—not in a hundred years. Jamie would never have accepted it if I tried to buy him a fancier plane ticket, even after he’d explained to me that he was flying on a cheaper airline with crappy, uncomfortable seats. Somehow, Jamie and his mom had a two-hour layover in Vegas, even though the Denver to LA flight should have been easy and quick. He’d told me that it had been the cheapest option.

Jamie wasn’t used to accepting gifts with too high of a price tag, and I at least finally understood it.

But I missed him.

I really missed him. Already.

And the feeling of missing someone rattled me to my core, bringing up feelings I’d grown so accustomed to ignoring.

Missing him meant that I had actually let him in .

And I wished like hell that he could just be here with me, to remind me in real time that it had been the right decision, rather than a fast-track to inevitable heartbreak like so many times before.

The only bad thing about first class was that it came with complimentary high speed internet access, and that meant that I had no excuse to unplug from work. I needed a distraction from thinking about Jamie anyway, and I flipped open my laptop, looking at the stack of proposals from startups that were seeking investment or marketing expertise. For the duration of the flight, I let myself get lost in documents and email chains, diving headfirst into the more boring parts of my work.

And then, just before finally landing in Los Angeles, my phone buzzed with a personal text message.

Elijah : My calendar reminder just popped up to tell me you’re back in town tonight. Come over and let me get you off.

A very explicit photo from between his legs came in next, and my stomach dipped for a moment.

For Christ’s sake. Maybe I really shouldn’t have been so casual about letting Jamie look at my phone earlier. If he’d seen a message like this, I would have felt more than a little off about it.

Elijah was a man I’d hooked up with at a sleek, high-class bar in Los Angeles a few months back. He’d been perfect for no-strings-attached sex, because I knew I could never fall for a guy like him. He was more than a little thoughtless and careless, and after we’d hooked up the last time, he’d called me the wrong name in bed—not once, but two separate times.

It turned my stomach knowing that before the wedding trip, I would have responded with agreement to texts from guys like him. I’d been so numb that I’d preferred cold, unfeeling men.

Now, I felt like I’d remembered something that had been covered under a layer of dust inside me: my own personal worth.

Landry : No thank you. I am no longer interested in continuing to see you, Elijah. Take care.

Because I already knew his cocky ass would try to protest and probably send me three more explicit photos if I didn’t respond, I opted to block his phone number.

Already, I felt lighter. Like spring after a thaw.

When I stepped out of the airport in Los Angeles, the feeling only continued. Even right now in wintertime, the temperature was balmy with a breeze, perfect for a T-shirt or maybe a light sweater by the water.

The peaceful wintery bubble was definitely long gone, though, the moment I smelled fuel and saw the endless line of cars jammed up outside the airport.

Typical LA.

I reached for my phone to call the driver I’d hired for the night, and he told me he was only a few cars behind me. I cut through the mobs of vacationing families, tourists, and businesspeople until I found the sleek black car, stepping inside.

“Should be smooth sailing once we’re away from the airport traffic,” the driver told me with a nod of his head.

My phone buzzed again and something inside me flinched, like I expected it to be some other heartless hookup from my past.

My heart skipped a beat when I saw Jamie’s name pop up. Goddamn, I was in deep.

Jamie : Omg. The airport in Vegas has this amazing red-carpeted lounge. I feel like I’m in the 1960s.

He attached a photo of himself in the lounge where I’d spent many a layover in the past. It was an iconic place, but seeing it through Jamie’s eyes lit me up like a damn Christmas tree.

Landry : You are adorable beyond words, and I love that lounge, too. I can’t wait to see you again, Jamie.

The car sped to life once we were free of the airport traffic, rumbling below me as I stared at my phone. I felt like I was breaking some rule by saying that to Jamie—because it had been a rule for me for so long. But feeling free was worth it.

When I got back to my house, I headed out back, flipping on the garden lights. I took a photo of my garden, sending off a photo to Jamie.

Landry : Proof that I do, indeed, have a tulip garden. No Sprinkle in sight right now, but he always comes around in the mornings. You’ll meet him someday.

Jamie : Maybe I will.

Landry : Call me when you find out your schedule for this week, okay? I can come to visit on your day off.

Jamie : I’ll let you know. Thank you for making me feel like I’m someone again, Landry .

His comment caught me off guard, hitting me like a sock to the chest.

He’d put it into words better than I could have. That was the gift he’d given me during our stay in the snowy mountains.

Jamie made me feel like I was someone again. And I never wanted to give that up.

When Jamie didn’t contact me the following day, I figured he must have gotten busy after his flights. He worked harder than I ever had, from what it sounded like, and on top of taking care of his mom, I was sure his life was full and probably stressful after a vacation.

But then another day passed. And then another.

And soon it was four days since we’d both been in California, and I hadn’t so much as gotten a text from him.

I could feel some cobwebs shifting into place, my heart hardening and shielding itself from inevitable pain. I could just as easily call him, but the ball was in his court, and I knew some part of me was waiting for him to reach out first.

To prove that he wanted to. To show me that I wasn’t stupid or crazy to have had the feelings I did for him, in our short time together.

I’d hung the photobooth strip of the two of us on my fridge—the only thing I had on my fridge, now, proudly displayed. Each time I walked by it, hope sparked in me again, only to flare out by the time night came again with no contact from him.

Old fear sparked inside me like kindling under a flame.

Parker had gone silent on me, too, right before our relationship blew up in my face.

I realized something was broken inside me when I was trying to work at my desk one morning, and for three straight hours, I hadn’t even finished reading page one of a business plan.

“Screw it,” I said, reaching for my phone and navigating to my text thread with Jamie.

I’d wanted him to reach out to me. But if I had to be the one to make first contact now that we were back in California again, so be it.

Landry : Jamie, how have you been? Can we meet up sometime this week?

I set the phone down like it was a ticking time bomb. Half of me expected him to ghost me completely, never hearing from him again.

But the phone buzzed just a minute later, sending adrenaline jolting through my system. I picked up the phone quick as lightning, my eyes glued to the screen.

Jamie : I don’t think it’s going to work, Landry. I meant what I said, though. Thank you. Thank you for being in a snowglobe with me. It meant everything.

My stomach dropped like an anvil. It was strange that someone I’d known for a week had the ability to make me feel more hollow than anyone had before.

Somehow worse than when Parker admitted he cheated on me; worse than when he refused my proposal.

He didn’t want more. He didn’t want me .

It felt familiar to be unwanted. And that was the worst part.