I freeze. He did not just go there.
When he comes over to open my car door, I don't move. "What the heck do you think you're doing?"
He winces. "OK. Sorry. Maybe that was out of line."
"Maybe?"
He scowls. "OK. It was." His gaze meets mine as it goes apologetic. "I know I messed up. Keep messing up, really. Can we just go up there and have some good food?"
The hard grit in my belly softens. Obviously, I still have to be careful, but the old Landon was never much for apologies. This one might be different. A bit.
Not different enough for me to actually consider as anything other than my opponent in court, but still. I could enjoy a meal with him tonight. I could do that.
"Fine," I say. "Just no more bringing up the past."
His hand flies to his heart. "Soldier's honor."
I chuckle. "The only soldier you've been is in Call of Duty."
Landon grins. "Guilty as charged. Now - you ready?"
"Ready as I'll ever be," I say, going out.
As we walk towards the entrance, Landon holds out an arm.
"Seriously?" I say.
He pauses, and his arm wilts. "You really do hate me, don't you?"
There's something about the way he says it, the sad certainty replacing the cocksure persona, that gets me.
I look away. "Hate is a strong word."
"It's the one you used."
"Let's just say dislike and leave it at that."
Landon winces, exhales. "You know - if you really want to go..."
"Really?"
Again, not like the Landon I used to know, getting what he wanted, no matter the cost.
"I mean, I'd rather you stay, but if you're just going to suffer the whole time..."
"I'm not going to suffer," I say, striding by him for the door. "The food here is supposed to be amazing, after all. Plus, I've never been."
Behind me, he barks out a laugh. "Right. Great."
I feel like laughing myself - though it would be a half-hysterical one. What the hell am I doing?
Landon just gave me the perfect out - why not take it?
But the surprised happiness in his eyes is so genuine and the way he's looking at me is so intent that I can't go back on what I said now.
Landon opens the glass door for me and gestures me in. "After you."
That was one thing about Landon: he always was a gentleman. Until he wasn't.
Inside, we take a quiet, brass-applique elevator to the top, then go to the maitre d', who already has a reservation under Landon's name.
Landon has to tug me along, I'm so overawed by our surroundings. There's a reason this is the most expensive eatery in New York and it's not just the damn good food.
This place is gorgeous. We walk over brocade-embossed black and silver flooring while juxtaposed long overhangs of light illuminate our way. The walls are creamy marble, the chairs embossed teal leather. I'm practically drooling when we take our seats.
It's obviously the best table in the house, right beside the rose-tinted window, higher than every other table in the place. If this place has rulers, we're sitting at their table and sipping their water.
"Hi," Landon says.
It's only now, with Landon across from me, that I'm struck by how inconveniently handsome he is. He's in a purple shirt, with the lightest of scruff. His light brown hair has the tousled look it always gets. And those pale blue eyes have that odd light in them they used to get whenever he looked at me.
"Hi," I say.
"What's new?"
"Oh, nothing much. You?"
"Same." He scowls, then shakes his head. "OK, let's cut the shit. A lot has happened. My dad died. My brother stepped down and made me President. I'm still figuring that out."
"I'm sorry," I say. "Your dad was always a great guy."
"Great guy, yes." Landon nods. "Ethical guy?" He gulps the rest of his water, frowning. "Jury still out on that one."
"Wait." Did he just admit what I think he did? "Are you saying..."
"God, no." He frowns. "You really want to talk about the plagiarism charges here?"
"No, obviously not." I frown right back at him. "You were the one who brought it up."
"Let's just forget it," he says.
"Agreed."
His gaze slants my way. "And you?"
Here it is: the question I've been dreading. The question I have to avoid. Again. At all costs.
"Well, clearly I got through school, so that was a relief. And now, yeah, life is good. I'm a lawyer. Pamela's still my best friend."
...And I have a nine-year-old.
Landon's gaze on me is admiring, although it seems miles away too, as if trying to figure out a calculus problem. "You just seem so... different."
"People do change in nine years. Isn't that the whole point you've been trying to make about yourself?"
"Yes - and no." He smiles helplessly. "I'm still as into you as I ever was."
Fuck me. Why is it the more he says things that he shouldn't, the more excited I get?