Aligned: Volume 2 (3 page)

“If only Landon was here. Then we could get the jaw-dropping, sexy look we want from her. One look at him and she would be melting in front of the camera,” I say before realizing my mistake, but I can’t help it. Landon is always on my mind, always the solution to every problem.
 

“You have to get over that boy. He’s moved on, so you should too, but that does give me an idea.” She turns to Nathan. “Go find me a male model in his underwear and parade him around, please.” Nathan scurries off to meet Abby’s request.
 

“Wait … what do you mean he’s moved on,” I say staring at her instead of my muse.
 

Abby ignores me. “Try sexy! Think about your boyfriend and pretend you are trying to get him into bed with you.”
 

I stop taking pictures and walk over to Abby sitting behind the monitor five feet away from me. I glare at her and grab her by the arm pulling her into a standing position. “Ow,” she screeches as she reluctantly stands up.
 

“What do you mean he’s moved on?” I snarl.
 

Her eyes won’t meet my gaze. She moves her hands to the keyboard and types in a few things.
 

“Look for yourself,” she says pointing at the screen. I haven’t looked at a magazine article in weeks. I was afraid I’d see Landon, but I’m shocked at the sight in front of me. Caroline draped all over him as they stroll through downtown Seattle. They look good together. Landon even looks like he is enjoying himself. I feel my face growing red to the point I’m afraid a vein is going to burst. I shouldn’t be angry. I have no reason to be. I told him to move on and leave me alone, and he did. I just hoped it would have been someone else – someone better – then it wouldn’t be so hard. Who am I kidding? Seeing him with anybody else would have been torture. I just need to focus on my career, on healing, and on remembering my past. Not be hung up on a guy. Landon Davis is an arrogant asshole. I will not let him control my thoughts …

***

Day two of not letting Landon control my thoughts is not going well. I have spent the entire day shopping with Elisabetta and Laura, and nothing I try on is good enough for them. I’m just not elegant enough, classy enough, or beautiful enough. I’m just not enough, and no dress or hairstyle is going to change that.
 

I come out of the dressing room wearing another large black ball gown that swallows my tiny figure. I have to wear black to show I’m still mourning the husband I lost while also making sure to cover my prosthetic leg. Otherwise, people would think I’m trying to pull focus from the loss of Ethan by displaying the loss of my leg. I also have to look elegant and beautiful with a hint of sex appeal so the attendees will find me attractive and care that I lost Ethan, but not so attractive that I look like I’m a slut and ready to move on to the next guy. It’s exhausting. Elisabetta and Laura both agree the best way to do that is with a ball gown. I disagree.
 

I stumble into the room almost tripping over the large gown.
 

“Shoulders back. Stop slouching, Alexandra,” Laura barks at me.
 

I hold my tongue trying my best to smile instead of ripping Laura into tiny pieces.
Oh Ethan, why did you leave me?
I don’t know if I can handle dealing with his mother for much longer, even if she is the only connection to my past. It’s not as if she shares anything about my past with me except how wonderful Ethan was and how I was never good enough for him.
 

“No, this won’t do,” Elisabetta says as she studies me. She looks at Laura, and they both sigh as if I’m a lost cause. Like they would have better luck dressing up a dog in a dress to parade around the ball.
 

“I’ll go change,” I say heading back to the dressing room, making sure to keep my shoulders back and holding my dress up to ensure I don’t trip again. I close the door to the dressing room and let out the growl I’ve been holding back as I rip another dress off and crumple it on the floor. I sigh looking at the crumpled silk and chiffon; it’s not fair to the dressing room attendants to leave it that way. I pick up the dress, smoothing the wrinkled fabric before putting it on a hanger. I look at the pile of dresses I have yet to try on. Each black ball gown will suffocate me in its tent-like fabric. I hate dresses and would prefer never to have to wear one, but I know if I have to wear one, these aren’t going to be it.
 

I dig through the hangers hoping to find a gem beneath the horrendous pile of poofy fabric when I spot it. Its black, long fabric lies flat against the wall as if the larger, heavier dresses have smothered it. It doesn’t look exciting, but to me, it’s the glimmer of hope I’ve been looking for. I quickly put on the dress to find that its simple strapless top fit nicely to my chest and the fabric hugs my curves without exposing too much. A large slit on the left side allows my toned left leg to be seen without showing my hideous right leg. This is the dress. Now, I just need to convince Elisabetta and Laura.
 

I walk confidently out of the dressing room toward them chatting away, most likely complaining about something else I have done. Complaining about how Ethan didn’t marry a more sophisticated woman. I make sure my shoulders are back as I move to the center of the room standing as tall as I can when I look at myself in the mirror. I even wear a bright smile, and I swear I see a twinkle in my eye when I gaze at myself in the mirror.
 

“What do you think?” I ask.
 

Silence is the response I get, which makes me smile brighter. Elisabetta finally gets up from her seat circling me as a vulture would, searching for a flaw she can point out, but none can be found.
 

“I think this will work. We will have to find some nice jewelry to go with this. A bold necklace and earrings. And we are going to have to deal with your hair, but I think we can make this work. Do you agree, Laura?”
 

Laura stands, scrunching her eyes at me as she studies me. “It will have to work. We have a salon appointment in an hour to make.”
 

Thank god!
I think silently. One bit of torture is finally over, but there are still plenty of hours in the day to experience the rest. I turn back when I see black eyes staring at me in the mirror, reminding me of the eyes I keep seeing in my dreams. I turn from the mirror to find the man, but he is gone. I want to ask Laura about it. She could tell me if the dreams I have are true or not, but every time I’ve ever brought anything up, she shoots me down. She will only ever tell me about Ethan’s past. She doesn’t seem to care if I have forgotten everything else and never go back to the past. She just wants me to remember him as the god he was. I resolve to forget about the dreams and just live my life for now. And today, my focus is on surviving the salon.
 

Could be the stars sparkling in outer space

I sit on the white leather couches in the lobby, occasionally glancing out the windows to watch the ocean. Mostly, I just sit and wait for her to come through the doors. I know she isn’t in her condo. I spent enough time knocking on her door to know. I think I pissed off all of her neighbors with the noise I was making. Two weeks is all I could go. I’m all out of self-control, and I’m not above begging today just to spend some time with her.
 

I hear the door to the lobby open, and I sit up straighter trying to get a glimpse of the woman walking through the door. The woman walking through the door is beautiful, blonde, but not Alex. More like Caroline than Alex. Caroline and I had a good time last night.
Too
good of a time if you base our night on what the tabloids are publishing today. I didn’t feel anything for her, though. Caroline didn’t turn me on the way she used to. I didn’t feel the excitement, the adrenaline, the rush I would expect from going out with a woman. Right now, the only woman I have a chance of experiencing that with again doesn’t want to see me and doesn’t want to talk to me. So I’ll sit and wait. Wait. I hate that word. I’m not a patient man, but I find myself wasting half a day away just sitting and waiting for her.
 

I hear the door to the lobby open again, and I don’t even bother to look up. It won’t be her. I fidget with my phone trying to look busy, and after a reasonable amount of time has passed, I look up at the passerby. Alex. She’s walking toward me, a sly grin on her face.
She’s walking
, without crutches, or a cane, or anything. She walks with her prosthetic leg as if she has been doing it all of her life. Amazing. I hold back my own smile as she walks toward me, trying to look indifferent so she can’t see how she affects me, but I can’t keep the smolder out of my eyes or my heartbeat from speeding up.
 

She stops walking when she realizes what she is doing, that she isn’t supposed to be walking toward me. We aren’t friends anymore; we aren’t anything. I get up from my seat and move the few feet to her, not letting her escape into the elevator without talking to me. Maybe if I just hear her voice it will be enough for me to get through the next few weeks without her.
 

“Hello, Alex. You look amazing,” I say. I pull her into a gentle embrace, breathing in her scent of raspberries and fresh flowers as I do. The only girly thing about her. Otherwise, she looks like a tomboy in her running shorts, tank, and tennis shoes. I don’t think she’s bothered with makeup, and she’s pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She fits perfectly into my chest, though, when I embrace her. She just fits. When I reluctantly let her go, I see the flicker of disappointment flash across her face before she plasters a fake smile in its place.
 

“You look good too, Landon,” she says, taking in my full appearance. Her eyes linger over my chest before making their way up to my face. She moistens her lips with her tongue and my mouth goes dry imagining her tongue on my lips. I clear my throat to try to remain normal, but that’s impossible when I’m around her. I’m drawn to her in a way I don’t even understand.
 

She notices my reaction and frowns as her eyes drift to the ground. She folds her arms across her chest and retreats from me, shifting her weight backward. “I should go,” she says motioning to the elevators behind her.
 

“Wait …” I say putting my hand on her shoulder to stop her. Her emerald eyes meet mine, and sadness emulates from them. She stares at me waiting, but I don’t know what to say.
God, what is wrong with me?
I always know what to say. I’m turning into a pussy every time I’m around this woman.
 

“What about the bets? The agreements we made,” I say, and my shoulders relax as I speak. This is the way. This will be how I get back into her life at least as a friend.
 

“What bets?” A confused expression scrunches her face.
 

“We agreed that when your leg healed, we would go running and see who the real pussy was. We also agreed if I let you drive my car, then I would get to drive yours. I would like to take you up on one of those offers today.” I grin smugly waiting for her to argue with me, but she won’t win. I never go back on an agreement.
 

To my surprise, her eyes light up just a little, and she grins smugly back at me. “Fine. My car is right outside. Let’s go, old man.”
 

I follow her outside, not sure what to expect. She has a small condo, and while she has a well-established photography career, I have no idea how much money she makes or what her dead husband used to make. But I am definitely not expecting what I’m looking at when we walk out the door.
 

“This is not your car. You’re kidding me, right?” I stare in disbelief as I look at the silver Tesla Roadster. She shrugs and tosses me the keys. I catch them with one hand. She climbs into the passenger seat as I continue to stare in disbelief.
 

“Are you coming or not?”
 

“Definitely coming.” I run to the driver’s side and climb in. The inside is just as sweet as the outside. I look down and notice the three pedals instead of just two and assume the car is a manual transmission. It’s been a while since I drove a manual car, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I look at the stick shift, but it isn’t there. I glance up at Alex in confusion.
 

“Just use the two on the right like you are used to. The pedal on the far left is for me since I drive with my left foot.”
 

I nod and put the car in drive. I take it slowly as we drive down the highway next to the beach. I don’t want to cause a panic attack in her car.
 

“So do you have a name for this baby?” I ask motioning to the Tesla.
 

She laughs softly seemingly relaxed in the seat next to me. “No, I was going to name her Silvia, but that name was already taken.”
 

I laugh and keep driving. “I’ll have to help you come up with a name then. How ‘bout Gabriella?”

She shakes her head.
 

“Valentina?”

She shakes her head more fervently sticking her tongue out in disgust.
 

“Isabella?”
 

She laughs this time as she shakes her head. “Do you only know Italian supermodel names? I think you’ve been with a few too many if that’s all you are thinking about.”
 

I frown. “Well, then you name her.”
 

She sits for a minute thinking deeply as if this is the biggest decision she is going to have to make. Her lips curl up into a slight smile. “Tessie!”
 

I shake my head and stick out my tongue in disgust. “That’s not a beautiful enough name for a beautiful car like this.”
 

“Nope, it’s my car. I get to name it, and I like Tessie!”
 

“Fine.” I shake my head laughing. “Tessie, it is. How long have you had this car, anyway? I can’t believe a girl would pick out this nice of a car.”