Perhaps Kiefer's daytime warning had only provoked his rebellious streak;
perhaps the naked longing in Elisha's eyes had once again plucked the softest string in his heart;
or perhaps he simply couldn't face the desolate prospect of a long night alone.
After a brief inner struggle, Landon silently surrendered beneath the weight of Elisha's gaze.
He told Zoey to take a cab, signalling with a look. When he turned away he missed her eye-roll.
Landon headed for his ford explorer; Elisha hurried after him, a bright, sweet smile blooming across her face.
He took a detour to a supermarket first.
Elisha looked puzzled. "I need a change of clothes," Landon said simply.
Elisha blinked, then understood; her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkled, and she eagerly slipped her arm through his as they walked in.
Under the bright lights of the store the two of them picked out simple underwear, pyjamas, toiletries.
Elisha was unusually animated, comparing styles and holding items up against Landon from time to time.
This domestic scene felt more intimately blissful to her than last night's passion.
She sneaked a look at Landon, tense but present beside the trolley, and felt a surge of possessive joy.
Mia was gone; only she remained at Landon's side.
Elisha was elated—at last she could have Landon all to herself, and her heart raced.
In her small but cosy apartment the excitement and sweetness unfolded exactly as she had imagined.
Whether squeezed together on the couch watching TV or laughing through the living room and bathroom, she was thrilled.
But when night deepened and the surging tide struck, she was already regretting it.
The last instant before consciousness faded, Elisha seemed to float on a scorching, brilliant cloud, a ridiculous thought flashing through her mind:
Yesterday's beauty had come from sharing the unbearable lightness; now she had foolishly tried to bear it alone.
Some time later she drifted back to awareness in the dim quiet, wanting only to sleep wrapped around Landon.
Beside her Landon breathed evenly, leaning against the headboard, staring absently at his palm in the faint light from the window, puzzled.
And he had every right to be puzzled.
He looked at Elisha clinging to him in sleep, then thought of Mia the night before.
His mind drifted to his time with Rachel and Tracy.
Something was wrong with his body.
After nights this intense he should wake groggy, eyes ringed with fatigue.
Instead he rose every morning radiant, bursting with energy.
Stranger still, the women close to him also glowed, skin lustrous, merely short on stamina.
He began to suspect his Eight Trigram Palm practice.
Was it not ordinary health-building Kung Fu, but some esoteric side-school art with hidden powers?
How else to explain this near "dual-cultivation" phenomenon?
Or was it simply an unknown perk or mutation of the young body he had been reborn into?
While his thoughts raced, the phone on the nightstand vibrated and lit up.
Landon picked it up: a text from Tracy.
"Rachel's audition went well—she's optimistic. I've got a project meeting tomorrow; if it goes smoothly I'll have good news for you. We'll be back the night after next. Are you all right?"
Brief words, yet brimming with shared joy and constant care.
Landon stared at "Are you all right?", fingertip hovering, chilled.
He wanted to confess the chaos, betrayal, confusion of the past two days, to beg forgiveness or even a scolding.
Instead everything condensed into a single reply:
"Everything's fine. Work as usual. I'll be waiting."
After sending it he slumped, set the phone down, and turned to the pink-purple Los Angeles sky outside the window.
No stars, only endless mingling of neon and loneliness.
He slipped an arm around Elisha's warm softness, feeling her steady breath on his chest.
He knew he had stepped onto a tempting, treacherous side-path.
On one side duty, morality, genuine feeling; on the other the abyss of instant desire.
Where it led he had no clue, no decision yet.
For tonight, in the hush before dawn, he accepted this flawed, wavering self and this derailed, uncertain life.
The day after tomorrow Tracy and Rachel would return; the Italian-styled villa would fill again with familiar voices and scents, routine restored.
What surprise did Tracy have in store?
A special purchase? A new role for Rachel? Another project secured?
Anticipation bubbled inside him.
Looking down at Elisha's sleeping face he felt another surge of tenderness.
He didn't know how to handle this unexpected, real affection.
No answer yet; for now he would let it flow, enjoying the moment since he couldn't bear to refuse.
Some lines, once crossed, are arrows that cannot return.
We seldom know at the fork whether the path ahead is scenery or thorns; only the walking reveals it.
Landon closed his eyes and cast the worry aside.
Tomorrow was Saturday, no work scheduled—perhaps a brief escape from his hesitation.
The road ahead was long.
In Hollywood, city of dreams that devour reality, he was both dream-maker and prisoner of the grand illusion.
On the blurred border between real and unreal he could only keep groping for a place, a meaning that might never be fixed.