“You and I both know you can’t kick me out. Besides, isn’t there a board meeting this afternoon? Seems to me, as half owner, I should attend. Weigh in on the important decisions.”
The scene was drawing attention. Phones rang in the background, but no one bothered picking them up, too interested in watching the power struggle.
“Well, good luck with that. I have no intention of engaging in your games.” He turned to me. “Taryn? I changed my mind. I don’t need the files. Let’s go.”
I couldn’t miss the way Alexa’s triumphant smile fizzled. She was too good to scowl, or react, but just stood rooted to that spot and watched him go, her face expressionless.
Like this was just a chess game to her, and she needed to analyze his move, figure out where she’d made a mistake so she could annihilate him the next time.
We climbed into his car without a word and as he pulled away, I reached out, placing a hand over his. “You alright?”
“She’s inconsequential. I don’t want to spend another minute of my day thinking about my ex-wife.”
“But she’s not your ex-wife,” I said softly.
Landon shot me a glance. “I haven’t lived with her in forever—haven’t had a conversation that wasn’t a screaming match since the week after we got married. Our marriage was a joke, and the only reason she still calls herself my wife is because she’s trying to extort money from me.”
I sighed, knowing what he meant, but still not quite satisfied. “But technically—“
“If you want,” Landon said, “I can make our divorce official tomorrow. All I need to do is give a woman that did nothing to earn it, half of my company.”
“Of course I don’t want you to do that. I’m just pointing out that things aren’t as simple as you sometimes make them out to be.”
“Believe me, I know it’s not simple.” His tone was firm and final, and so I settled against the seat and dropped the subject.
“So what do you want to do?” I asked. “Seems to me that you didn’t pick up the work you needed…”
“Let’s go bowling,” he said abruptly.
I laughed. “Uh, what?”
“The last time I went bowling was with you,” he said, glancing over at me with a smile. “When I was seventeen.”
“And you lost miserably,” I said, shoving his shoulder.
He grabbed my hand, bringing it down to the console so our fingers could intertwine. “I know. You beat me by fifty points.”
“And yet you want a rematch?”
“Maybe I’ve been practicing my bowling skills in secret.”
I squeezed his hand. “You just said you hadn’t gone since you were seventeen.”
“Oh,” he said, chuckling under his breath. “Right.”
I shook my head, smiling as I turned to the window and watch the world stream by. I didn’t know how Landon could ignore the fact that Alexa was actively working to take half his company, but I couldn’t deny how happy it made me to see that she didn’t rattle him. That he’d totally shot her down, and then turned and left with me.
We pulled up at the bowling alley just as the streetlights flickered on. He parked in the corner, under the shadow of a big willow tree. We walked inside hand-in-hand, and I enjoyed the roughness of his palm against mine. It was like he didn’t want to let me go, that he had to touch me in some way every moment we were together.
Inside, Landon reserved a lane and we picked up our shoes.
‘These are hideous,” I said, holding them up. “I can’t remember the last time I wore Velcro shoes.”
“The third grade, probably.”
We slipped into our shoes and selected our bowling balls.
“I’m going to grab us a pitcher of beer. Any requests?”
“Whatever you want’s fine,” I said, waving a hand over my shoulder as I turned my attention to the keyboard.
I input Taryndactyl in place of my own name, a nickname Landon bestowed on me long, long ago. He’d stayed over watching movies with Matt and I, and I’d fallen asleep on the recliner. As a prank, he grabbed the back of the chair and yanked it upward, dumping me out of the chair.
I’d shrieked and leapt to my feet, apparently flapping my arms like a bird to catch my balance.
Landon and Matt had fallen over laughing. When Matt finally got it together, he’d said I looked like a Pterodactyl.
Landon corrected him, saying I looked like a Taryndactyl, and the name stuck. For months, they’d shriek and flap their arms when I walked into a room.
I bumped down a line and type in Hollywood, because Landon’s middle name was Alex, making his initials L. A. He went through a phase in high school where his buddies called him Hollywood, and I’d teased him relentlessly for it.
And then Landon was there, setting two frosty glasses down next to a pitcher of amber beer. He glanced up at the screen, and chuckled. “Man, I thought I was hot shit in high school.”
I laughed. “Figured I’d resurrect our nicknames for old time’s sake.”