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SIX MONTHS AGO, MELODEE was sentenced to twenty-five years in state prison for her involvement in my kidnapping and attempted murder. The press had left me alone after that, but that didn’t stop me from giving a statement. Of course, we talked to Santos and got a lawyer before making a statement to the press. We wanted to make sure our bases were covered first. But I still wanted my side of the story to be told.
Ian Santos, who I’m surprised I didn’t already know considering he’s from the same town I grew up and spent most of my life in, has actually become a good friend of both Landon and myself. Turns out, he’s a pretty cool guy. He and Landon are the same age but weren’t close growing up since Santos was apparently more of a jock whereas Landon was a womanizer and troublemaker – I still have a hard time imagining that. It makes me wonder if things would have been different if I had gotten to know Santos a few years ago. Not that I would change anything with Landon. I’ve never been happier.
Landon finally hired a new assistant. He didn’t want to, of course, but I convinced him that he needed to bite the bullet. Shaun, the man he hired last week, started at the beginning of the week. I stayed with him for two days training him as best I could before making my exit. I filled in the best I could while I was there, even though I’ve never worked a desk job before. I’m a quick learner so I picked it up pretty quickly, but it just wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life.
I thought I wanted to go back to school and make a career of traveling and photography. Things have changed quite a bit though. Turns out, I’m pretty good at social media marketing. When I wasn’t working at the office, keeping up with all the emails and phone calls that come through Landon’s office, I was creating and maintaining a social media account for Strong Designs. All the pictures that I’ve taken of Landon’s designs and completed buildings around the city are not only hanging all over his office, but they’re all over the internet now too.
It might have taken me a while to learn all the different social media platforms available, but it turns out that it isn’t much different than my photo editing software when it comes to creating creative content and posts. I’ve picked up a few other freelance marketing and photography gigs around the city and have done fairly well. And – get this – I’m an official business now.
As of this morning, I am the proud owner of Elegant Exposures. I get to make my own hours and currently work from home. We took the bed out of the guestroom and filled the space with more office furniture than I’ll ever need. I get the best of both worlds – I get to go into businesses and take pictures of their products, their location, their happy customers, and post them on social media. I get creative freedom on the content and posts and even get free products from a few of my clients. They pay me well to help drive online sales and bring people into their shops. It’s a lot of work, but I’m enjoying doing it.
Landon says he’s going to design me a storefront to work out of at some point but I’m putting that off until I get big enough to have to hire employees. For now, I only have six clients, not including Strong Designs, but I’ll get there eventually. I’m not in any hurry to expand my business since I’m just getting it started.
Landon is supposed to be coming home from work early this afternoon so we can go to Independence. I didn’t think I would ever want to set foot back in that little timeless town, but I had no choice after Charlie died. It turns out, my mother’s house was actually mine after she died. Of course, I had no desire to keep it – there were too many bad memories there – so Landon hired a crew to clean it out and do some repairs. He even bought a new porch swing to hang on the newly replaced porch. We contacted Rachel and had her take pictures of it and put it on the market for us. It sold faster than I thought it would to a young, newly married couple and I was happy to see it go.
We’ve made it a point to stop into the diner every time we’ve been to town just so we could have Ralph’s famous meatloaf. Today, I’m going to take photos of the diner and start a social media page for Ralph. He hasn’t asked me to, of course, but I’m going to do it anyway. I feel like it’s something that I need to do considering the history I have at the diner. Freedom Diner has always been a big part of my life between my mom working there, and then myself when I got older. It’ll always have a special place in my heart.
“I’m home, Kitten.” I hear the front door open and close. “Where are you?”
“I’m in here!” I call out from my office where I’m editing the photos I took while I was out this morning.
“Mmm,” Landon starts as he wraps an arm around my shoulder from behind and kisses the top of my head. “Those look really good, Kitten.” The photos on my laptop are of a local florist that’s run by a mother and daughter. It’s a cute little shop set in the middle of downtown, a chic little cottage set in the middle of several large steel and glass buildings. It’s hard to miss when you’re driving through the city, the little pop of blue and purple vinyl siding is a stark contrast against the shiny silver and reflective glass buildings. I took several photos of the shop itself to edit and post in both color and black and white.
“Thank you.” Closing out of the editing software, I make sure my work is saved and close the lid to the laptop. Landon steps back as I stand and I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. “Are you ready?”
“I am.” Smiling, he brushes a stray hair away from my forehead. “Do you want to drive?”
“Sure.” As much as I hated driving for longer trips before, I don’t like being a passenger anymore after that day with Charlie and Amber. Even sitting in the front passenger seat, I get nervous now when I can feel the world around me moving and not being in control myself. My therapist says it’s a form of PTSD because of the kidnapping and has given me some techniques to deal with it, but Landon still gives me the option of driving now. “We’ll take my car.”
“How did I know you were going to say that?” he asks with mock agitation at the idea of taking my car, I know he secretly enjoys it. He bought me the car, despite how much I tried to talk him out of it, two weeks after I got out of the hospital. It’s a Mercedes GLE and it’s fully loaded with all the extras and safety features. Compared to his car, mine might as well be a tank, but I love it.
He grabs my hand, twining our fingers together as he leads me through the apartment. He carries my camera bag slung over his shoulder and I grab my keys from the table by the door on the way out.
The drive to Independence is long and quiet. Neither of us say anything to the other, Landon keeps his head turned out the passenger window watching the scenery passing by. Both my hands stay on the wheel, my concentration staying on the road ahead of me.
Freedom Diner is mostly empty when we arrive, which is not surprising considering it’s the middle of the afternoon and it won’t have another rush of people until closer to dinner time. Stepping out of the car, Landon hands me the camera bag and I get straight to work taking photos of the outside of the dinner. The afternoon lighting is perfect against the faded, white-washed brick of the building. Through the window, I get a few candid shots of the unfamiliar waitresses standing at the counter rolling silverware, smiling innocently and laughing during a silent conversation between them.
Stepping through the door, I turn and watch as Landon follows silently behind me. Smiling to myself, I remember the first time I saw him walk through those same doors. This is very similar, almost déjà vu, as he steps inside wearing the broken suit he left wearing for work this morning. Lowering my gaze to the floor, I feel the heat in my cheeks at the memory of that first encounter. How I had been instantly attracted to him but thought he would never see me as anything other than invisible. He hadn’t belonged here, despite having grown up here himself – but I didn’t know that then. On that first day he’d wandered through those doors, I just thought he was a random stranger that was passing through town.
Lifting the view finder of my camera to my eye, I take a few pictures of Landon walking through the diner. These shots are for me. He smiles and winks at me when he turns his head and catches me taking his picture. He’s gotten used to me focusing my photographic attention on him lately, not faulting my incessant need to capture every memory with him possible. I lost so many of my memories over the years, photographs chronicling my youth and those of my mother, and I have no interest in losing any more.
“Just have a seat anywhere,” one of the waitresses announces, not looking up from her silverware rolling chore. “I’ll be right with you.”
Cocking his head to the side, Landon lifts a single brow in question as he raises a hand to lead me toward a booth against the wall. Turning, I look at the booth he motions toward, the same booth he sat in each time he’d come to the diner so long ago. The same booth I had joined him at for lunch twice. “Shall we?” he asks, placing a hand softly against my lower back and leading me to the cracked and peeling vinyl booth.
Keeping one eye on Landon, I see the waitress approach our table out of the corner of my eye. “What can I get you today?” she asks as she sets two glasses of water on the table.
“Meatloaf,” Landon answers easily. “We’ll both have the meatloaf.”
“Great choice,” she responds. It’s an easy enough order, and probably often enough too, that she doesn’t bother writing it down on her notepad. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Meatloaf?” I ask with a giggle.
“Hell yeah,” he responds. “It’s the best.”
“Of course, it is.”
“Best in town,” he chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and sending a chill down my spine.
“Probably the entire county.”
“Maybe you should do a feature on it for social media,” he suggests and it’s actually not a bad idea.
“Here you go,” the waitress sets a plate down in front of each of us and I’ve already got my camera in hand to take a picture of the meal. I never thought I’d be one of those influencers that takes more photos of food than she eats, but then I have no intention of letting this delicacy go to waste.
“There have been a lot of memories made over this meatloaf, I think,” Landon states as he cuts off a piece of his buttery meat with his fork. “My grandfather loved the meatloaf here. He used to bring me here when I was younger, without telling my grandmother of course.”
Giggling softly, I cut off my own piece of the delectable meat and take a bite.
“When I pulled up to this diner almost a year ago, it was the only thing on my mind. As much as I didn’t want to be back in this town, I couldn’t pass up a chance to have this meatloaf again.”
I watch as he chews another bite before swallowing. Looking over his shoulder, I see Ralph watching us from the window to the kitchen, a smile crinkling the tan skin around his eyes. Setting my fork down on the table, I move my gaze back to Landon and reach across the table to place my hand over his. The bell over the door dings indicating another hungry patron entering the small diner, but I don’t take my eyes away from Landon.
“It wasn’t the meatloaf that brought me back the next day.” One corner of his mouth tips up in a half smile. “Or the day after that. It was you.”
Remaining silent, I allow a single tear to slip down my cheek.
Lifting his free hand, Landon reaches across the table and swipes the tear away with his thumb. “I never realized how many great memories started here, in this timeless town or this tiny diner.”
My lungs freeze, taking away my ability to breathe, as Landon stands and walks around the table to stand beside me. I watch, completely frozen, as he sinks down to his knee before taking one of my hands between both of his and squeezing tightly.
“What’s one more memory, right? And what better place to make that memory than right here, where it all started.”
I swallow around the lump in my throat and feel the warmth as more tears begin to run down my cheeks.
“I love you, Emi. So much. You may have thought you were invisible, but I’ve always seen you. You appeared like a beacon of hope, shining so brightly that your image is burned into my very soul. There’s no part of me that will ever exist without you.”
I continue to stare, motionless and barely breathing, as he reaches one hand into his pocket.
“Marry me, Emi. Build a life with me. Say you’ll be mine forever.”
My voice has evaded me, the tight lump in my throat blocking my ability to make noise. Nodding my head quickly, I mouth the word yes soundlessly. Only then do I move my gaze down to my hand to see Landon placing the most beautiful, antique, rose-gold engagement ring on my finger. It’s a perfect fit.
Standing, Landon scoops me out of the booth, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist and lifting my feet off the floor. He spins me around twice while holding me against his chest before lowering me to the floor and crashing his mouth against mine. I open immediately, allowing him to direct and deepen the kiss to the sound of applause all around us.
When he breaks away, he spins me around to see where the clapping is coming from. Ralph has come out of the kitchen and is standing behind the counter with both waitresses, a huge smile spread across his face. It’s only then that I see Office Santos sitting at the counter in uniform facing us.
“She said yes!” Landon exclaims.
“Oh, Landon,” I gasp as I finally get a good look at the ring on my finger. “It’s beautiful.”
He grabs my left hand and kisses my knuckles softly. “It was my grandmother’s.” He rolls the ring back and forth on my finger with his thumb. “She gave this to me after my grandfather passed away. She told me to make sure that I gave it to the one person that puts my soul back together. The one that holds all the pieces of my heart. I never understood what she meant until I met you.”
Lifting my free hand, I cup his cheek, relishing in the softness of his beard brushing against my palm. “I love you.”
“Always and forever,” he whispers in response.