She turned to face him, her gaze earnest. "The point is, the Delmont spot plus the Marie Claire cover—no one knows what kind of chemistry those two things will create together. None of us have a clue!"
Landon regarded her silently. Tracy went on, "So we have to strike while the iron's hot. I'm already circling a few scripts. Don't worry about resources."
She said it lightly, but Landon knew how much work those words actually meant.
He studied the delicate line of her profile, suddenly curious. "Tracy, why… are you going so far out on a limb for me?"
The moment the question left his mouth he felt stupid for asking.
Before Tracy could answer, Rachel returned, balancing three coffees, careful not to spill a drop.
"What are we talking about that's so serious?" She set the mugs on the table and slid naturally onto the sofa beside Landon.
The couch was never big to begin with; now the three of them were practically glued together.
On his left he could feel the softness of Tracy's knit sweater; on his right, the warmth of Rachel's arm.
Rachel clicked on the TV, chatting across him to Tracy, and the three of them sipped coffee while they waited for Landon and Rachel's commercial to debut.
The ad aired at 8:02. The second it started, all three held their breath and watched intently.
Rachel browsed the coffee aisle of the convenience store, then carried two cans of Delmont luncheon meat toward the register.
A Black Robber stepped inside, closing in on Rachel step by step. Just as he reached for her—
Landon, standing by the shelves, eyes sharpening, snatched a can of Delmont from beside him. Without aiming, he whipped his arm—
Whoosh!
The can sliced the air in a crisp straight line and smacked the Robber square on the wrist.
Bang! The gun went off once and clattered to the floor.
With the man subdued, Landon picked up another can and delivered the line to camera: "Delmont canned meat—carefully selected premium cuts, crafted to lock in the original flavor."
"The sturdy sealed can doesn't just keep the taste in; if something happens, it gives you one more thing to count on."
The ad ended and the feed cut back to Friends. Only then did Landon exhale.
He glanced at Rachel. She was still leaning on his shoulder, eyes fixed on the screen even though the spot was over.
Her expression was rapt, lips parted slightly, like a kid seeing a cartoon on TV for the first time.
And his right hand was being squeezed even tighter.
He looked toward Tracy. She was staring at the screen too, but her gaze seemed distant, as if her mind were elsewhere.
Then she sensed his look and turned her face.
In that instant her eyes were brimming with a smile—and something else… pride? Contentment? Landon couldn't tell; he only felt his heart skip.
"Wow."
Rachel finally spoke. She straightened, turned to Landon, eyes sparkling.
"Wow!" she repeated, laughing. "Oh my God, we're really on TV! NBC! Right before Friends!" She grabbed his arm and shook it. "Did you see me? How was my expression? Was it over the top? I keep thinking my eyes went too wide…"
"Perfect," Landon said, smiling. "Totally real."
"Really?" Rachel turned to Tracy. "Tracy, what do you think?"
"Fantastic," Tracy answered, professional tone back though the smile remained. "Great pacing, spot-on emotion. Most important, you look approachable—viewers will like you."
She looked at Landon. "And your part goes without saying. That can-throw moment will stick in people's heads."
Rachel whooped, spun a happy circle in the living room. "I'm calling my mom—she definitely recorded it! Oh, and my sister…" She grabbed her phone and hurried to the balcony, chirpy voice drifting in.
The living room fell quiet except for the dialogue of Friends on TV—Phoebe singing something odd, the audience laughing.
Landon and Tracy were still on the sofa, hands linked. Neither moved, neither spoke.
The air held a fragile hush, the scent of coffee, and the faint fragrance Tracy wore.
"Things will be different," Tracy murmured suddenly. "Starting tomorrow."
Landon nodded.
When Rachel came back from the call her cheeks were flushed. "My mom cried! Honestly, she was sniffing on the phone, and my dad kept yelling 'That's my daughter!'…" Her own eyes misted; she rubbed them quickly. "Gosh, silly."
It was a small miracle that NBC came through so clearly in Canada.
She stepped in front of Landon, studied him, then made an exaggerated sniff.
"Uh, Landon, did you roll around the set today? You smell like sweat." She wrinkled her nose, eyes laughing.
"Not that bad…"
"Yes it is!" Rachel hauled him off the sofa. "Go take a Shower—now! This is a historic night; you can't sit here stinky."
Landon gave a helpless laugh. "Yes, Your Majesty."
He was steered toward the bathroom. As he turned he saw Tracy still on the couch, coffee cup in hand, watching him with a smile.
Rachel stood arms akimbo in the middle of the living room, face dead serious.
"Use the new body wash!" she called after him. "The blue bottle!"
The bathroom door shut, muffling the outside world.
Landon faced the mirror, studying himself.
A far cry from the polished image on TV: hair stiff with styling spray, faint shadows under tired eyes, stubble peppering his jaw.
He twisted the faucet; hot water gushed, steam slowly clouding the mirror.
Outside, the muffled voices of the two women drifted in—easy, intimate laughter.
Before long the sounds ebbed, like a tide slipping into silence.
Eyes closed, Landon scrubbed shampoo through his hair, foam piling high. Then the bathroom door opened quietly.
"Rachel!"
A soft body pressed against him from behind, arms circling his waist—familiar yet strange. He swiped water from his face, opened his eyes, and froze.
It was Tracy.
"Don't move—turn around. Let me wash your back." A faint tremor ran through her voice.
Hot water kept pouring from the Shower head; she didn't step away, letting it soak her hair and skin.
Her fingers hesitated, then touched his back—first a whisper, then slow, deliberate strokes.
Water streamed between them, but the brush of fingertips burned hotter on skin than any jet of heat.
In the cramped space only the water and their barely audible breathing remained.