Return to Virgin River (Virgin River #19) - Robyn Carr Page 0,35
up without at least giving it an earnest try. I said I was done with the trying. I offered up every compromise I could think of but you wanted me on the sidelines. That’s when I came back here to live and work.”
“It’s not like we’ve ever been out of touch,” she said.
“We talk on the phone!” he said. “We meet in San Francisco if I’m visiting the galleries. We don’t even share a hotel room on those occasions. We’re not even good friends!”
“We’re very good friends! You’re my best friend! I’ve always loved you!”
He took a deep drink. “Laura, you need to raise your standards. Your idea of friendship is really lacking.”
Her eyes got teary. “I’m sorry, Landry. I failed at everything. I never should have wasted so much time on acting if it was going to come to nothing. I never should have given you up. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. I want us to be together. Please say you’ll try again.”
“I think that ship has sailed, Laura. No matter how I feel about you, the trust just isn’t there. I’d be waiting to see you get out the suitcase every day.”
“But wait,” she said. “Remember when we used to go to the outdoor movies, to the foreign films, to the galleries and street vendors? Remember our picnics in Union Square? Sitting on a bench and people watching? Our drives up the coast to the fish house? To the Russian River? We were young and carefree and so happy. We can’t be young anymore but—”
“I think too many years have passed,” he said.
“We can start over,” she said. “We have the love. We just need the time together.”
“I have a different kind of life now,” he said. “I’ve lived alone for ten years. I’m solitary and you need a lot of people. I agree, there was a time we had fun; it seemed we were compatible. But Laura, you walked away. And you didn’t want me to tag along.”
“It was a practical issue,” she said. “And maybe I was foolish but I thought once I landed a really good role and didn’t have to sell my soul for work, then we could get it together. Please, I’m ready to give it up for us. Will you at least think about it?”
“I can’t help but think about it,” he said. “But I don’t think it would benefit either one of us.”
“Take a week,” she pleaded. “Please.”
“Where did this come from?” he asked. “Did something happen? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“No, of course not, unless you call complete failure to achieve my goals trouble. This just isn’t working. I’ve given up, Landry. I want a sane life again.”
“In a little house in the mountains with a dog? And a guy and his pots?” He shook his head. “There are no theaters or spas or fancy restaurants here. You wouldn’t last a month. And it would probably leave me scarred. Again.”
“Think about it? For a week? Give me a chance?”
“Are you listening? The last time you decided acting was more important than marriage, you walked away and it hurt. You said you’d be back in a few days and it was months. When you ask me to think about us, what do you think comes to mind? Maybe the guy in the towel who you passed off as a roommate you weren’t romantically involved with? I never bought that...”
“It was true! There were men and women sharing that house. There were lots of different houses and roommates; there were lots of starving artists who doubled up because that was the only way I could afford to stay in LA. It can’t hurt anything to think about putting it back together.”
“I’m exhausted. I can’t talk about it anymore tonight. I need some sleep and so do you.”
“All I want is for you to give it fair consideration.”
“Don’t you have a job to get to? A play?”
“It’s not even a good play,” she said. “I’d give it up in a heartbeat.”
“I’ll be honest with you, Laura. There’s about a one in a million chance I’m going to try to resurrect a dead marriage.”
“I never thought of it as dead,” she said.
You have a funny way of showing it, he wanted to say. Instead he said, “Time to sleep. I’ll take the couch. I have to leave early tomorrow for Grace Valley. I have to set up my booth.”