Page 14 of Layla Meets Her Match

There’s a tap on the back door of the food truck, and Mila glances up at me, brows furrowed. She’s elbow deep in stirring batter, so I hop up from my chair and open the door, surprised to see Lincoln there.

“Morning,” he says, his lips spreading into a wide grin. It’s the kind of smile that, if I weren’t firmly decided on not dating, might make a girl’s stomach swirl with butterflies. His warm gaze has a way of making me feel like it’s just for me. He probably has to perfect stuff like that because he’s a famous football player. I know my agent was always coaching me on ways to engage with audiences that made it seem like they had a personal connection with me. Lincoln has it down.

“Good morning. Finally calling in a favor and using the back door to sneak past the line?” I tease. “Maybe you should’ve picked a busier day.” I tilt my head toward the front of the truck, where a couple people have moved forward so Astrid can take their orders.

He snaps his fingers in a “darn it” kind of way that makes me giggle. He has the good looks to make his choir boy thing very attractive. I bet women fall all over him for that. “I need to talk to Mila for a second. Does she have time?”

“Come on in, Linc,” Mila calls. “I need to get this bread into the oven.”

“Actually …” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “I think it would be better if you came out here.” He casts a nervous glance toward Astrid and the customers ordering from her. She pops up from her seat and grabs a box to gather some blueberry streusel muffins, and she glances between Lincoln and me. She raises her eyebrows, but I shake my head.

“Okay …” Mila puts down the bowl of batter and wipes her hands off on a nearby dish towel before coming over and stepping down out of the truck. “What’s up?” she asks. She’s probably as confused as I am about what Lincoln needs to talk to her about that he prefers to keep from the customers.

“The sugar cookies I bought from you yesterday?” he begins, and Mila nods along. “I, uh, shared them with some friends, and they all ended up getting sick.”

Mila gasps and shoots a hand out to grab Lincoln’s arm. “Oh my gosh, Linc. Are you okay? It wasn’t football players, was it? Eli’s going to kill me.”

Lincoln shakes his head quickly. “I didn’t have any yesterday, and they weren’t football players. Some other friends of mine that love your bakery truck. It sounds like it was food poisoning.” He grimaces.

Mila sucks in a breath and glances at me. “You haven’t seen anything online …?” she asks.

I post for Mila about where the truck’s going to be throughout the day and answer any messages that come in. Overseeing the social media is how Mila justifies paying me what she does. I would have seen complaints about the sugar cookies.

I shake my head.

“No one else has posted anything on your page,” Lincoln says. His cheeks turn pink. “I, uh, looked to make sure.”

Mila frowns. “That’s good, I guess. But we always sell out of the sugar cookies. They did good yesterday?” She looks over at me again. She should be asking Landon that. He does her books, and he’d know what sold the best yesterday.

I shrug. “It seemed like we were selling a lot.”

Lincoln pinches his lips together. “My friends are kind of old,” he says. “Maybe it was just something their systems couldn’t handle?”

Mila puts a hand to her forehead. “Oh my goodness. I gave senior citizens food poisoning. My truck is doomed.”

Lincoln shakes his head. “They’re loyal fans, Mila. My friend assured me that they didn’t hold it against you. In fact, she wanted me to tell you because she’s certain one of your suppliers is selling you old eggs and milk or something.”

Mila bites her lip, and I step down out of the truck to stand next to her and loop my arm through hers. She loves her bakery truck, and even though she’s worried in the past that she wouldn’t find her true passion, this seems to be it. A lump drops into my stomach just thinking that a careless supplier could cause her to lose all of that.

“I’ll definitely look into it. Tell your friend that if they ever decide they want to come back, any treat is on me.” She turns to me. “We’d better close the truck for the day. I don’t want to risk anything.”

“Probably a good idea.” I leave her with Lincoln, waving at him before I step back up into the truck to tell Astrid. He nods before turning to Mila and saying something else I don’t catch.

I look around the food truck and see a stray baby toy that’s rolled underneath the part of the counter where I usually sit. This job has been perfect for me. Mila lets me bring Margot with me every day, and even though Landon has her this morning because he’s just grading papers, being able to work a job that lets me stay with my daughter all day has been such a blessing. If something happens to Mila’s truck, I won’t be able to find a job like this again. I might be able to do more videos and find more work that way, but most of the time I have to wait for Margot to be sleeping for those videos. That’s going to get harder and harder to do during the day as she gets older. Acting is the only skill I have, but as much as I wish I could go back, I don’t want to disappear from my daughter’s life while I try to get jobs.

I sigh and move forward to murmur to Astrid to close her station quietly. Everything’s going to be fine. I know it will be.

It has to be.

I’m unsettled by the time I get back to the apartment. Mila went to see Landon at the college and talk through what Lincoln told us. I envy her being able to have a partner to process this with. I decide to process with one of my favorite things to do—watching old sitcoms and analyzing them for what made them successful.

Margot is a little antsy, probably reading my anxious body language, and wants to be held. So I turn on an episode of Friends and sway with her as I watch. That show is on the top of my list of favorites to analyze. It’s still popular, with reruns on streaming platforms and new audiences popping up among the younger generation, and finding even the little reasons why is fun to me in the same way Landon likes to figure out math problems just for kicks.

Margot lays her head on my shoulder as we sway, eyes looking heavy. It’s not her usual naptime, but I don’t try to dissuade her from snuggling. If she ends up falling asleep while I watch, it won’t be the worst thing. One piece of advice my mom gave me when I had her has always stuck—not to get hung up over all the little things. To do my best, but to also be flexible where it concerns her. Some rules that I’ll make for her need to be hard and fast for her safety, but some will be okay to break. Especially for Grandma to break, it seems, but who can blame her?

I choose an episode where Monica and Chandler find out that they can’t have children. I’ve always admired the way they can stay in the right tone of the show while dealing with such a heavy topic.

“Watch this,” I murmur to Margot. “See, Monica is nervous about what the news is, but the way they show her nerves is funny, not tense.” I continue talking softly out loud, even when I notice that Margot’s eyes have closed and she’s heavy against my shoulder. “See how they use the silence here to emphasize both the jokes and the tension?”

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