Page 32 of Layla Meets Her Match

She has to leave me hanging about halfway through the game when the baby monitor clipped to her pocket beeps and she checks it to see that Margot has woken up and needs resettling. “Poor thing is being moved all over the place these days,” she says with a wink. “I’ll be right back.”

It’s so tempting to follow her and try to help. Or just watch her. That’s not creepy. “Do you need any help?” I ask, and then I want to slap my hand over my mouth. That is so stupid. What am I going to do?

Layla’s expression softens as she looks over at me, like somehow it was the right thing to say. “Thanks, but I’ve got it.”

I take myself out for a round, since we don’t know how long Layla will be, and sit back against the couch, glancing every so often to the hallway that she disappeared down. Every time I turn my attention back to the game going on without me, I catch a friend’s eye and receive a knowing look.

How can I be this transparent and Layla doesn’t know? Or does she know? I can’t ask her. That will be going against everything Landon and Eli told me to do by taking it slow. It will move us to a new level, where she has to acknowledge my feelings and her feelings and make a choice about what to do.

Fortunately, before I can get too deep in my head about that, Layla comes back and slides into her seat next to me.

“That was fast. You must be a pro,” I say.

She chuckles. “Every time I think I am, she hits a new phase and I’m learning all over again. She’s easy to settle back to sleep.”

“Is it ever too much?” I ask in a low voice. I know that logically, there must be times that she struggles. My mom was always honest with me when she’d blown up out of frustration—coming to me and apologizing and letting me know that something was heavy and she was struggling. It’s not an excuse, she’d say. I just wanted you to know why I reacted how I did when I don’t normally do that.

“Oh, definitely,” she says. “More often than I want to admit. And honestly, there’s still a part of me worried that I shouldn’t accept this job. That it might not be for the best. How do people just get babies and have to suddenly know what’s best all the time?” She shakes her head and laughs.

“When I used to question my mom’s decisions—which was a lot?—”

“Not you.” Layla shakes her head. “I can’t believe it.”

“I was different as a teenager,” I insist.

She puts a hand on my arm and eyes me sternly. “Don’t try to tell me you went through an awkward stage. I’ve seen the pictures of you playing football in high school.”

I eye her back. “Are you going to try and tell me you did?” I have also seen pictures of Layla in high school, although it probably required more stalking than her finding pictures of me.

She grins. “No, I won’t.” She nudges me with her shoulder. “What did your mom tell you?”

“That she was doing her best and to trust her.”

“It’s good advice. My mom has told me the same. Just do my best and keep trying. Don’t ever give up on either of us.” She leans into me a little and then suddenly straightens, leaving me disappointed.

Astrid, Hurley, and some of the other guys and friends they brought leave after the next round of Pictionary, leaving just Eli, Court, Landon, Mila, me, and Layla. Like a triple date.

“Who’s up for a movie?” Landon asks, with too much enthusiasm. Layla looks at her watch, and Landon claps a hand over it. “It’s only 8:30. Calm down.”

I can’t help the little laugh that escapes. They act like brother and sister instead of cousins. Landon has told me that they grew up just a few houses away from each other and that their family is close, doing dinners and vacations together and all of that.

She laughs. “Fine, fine. You’re right.” She leans closer to me. “I’ve stayed up far later doing videos before.”

“I can say I’ve got to go too, so this doesn’t cut into your work time,” I offer, raising my eyebrows at her.

She shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. Tips have been good at the truck. I can use a night off.”

I’m glad that I get a few more hours with her. Even that won’t be enough. I stop myself before I get caught up in a daydream again where Layla is my wife and I get to come home to her every night. Where I’m the one that Margot loves almost as much as she loves her mom and lets me put her to bed.

I give Eli a low-key glare when he chooses a rom-com. Not sure we can get any more obvious.

Court notices because she jumps in. “Oh, babe! That’s my favorite one. Thank you!” She makes a show of pulling him toward her by his shirt to give him a quick kiss.

I want to groan and put my face in my hands. Layla is not stupid. But she’s just laughing beside me, jumping into Landon’s teasing that they get a room. Or go to their room and leave the rest of us in peace.

The other two couples cuddle up. Mila and Landon shift on the sectional to be farther away from me and Layla, and Court stretches out in the space that the departing football players left empty, her head in Eli’s lap.

I hold my breath, waiting for Layla to shift as well, to get more comfortable in the ample amount of space around us, but the only thing she does is lift her legs up onto the ottoman. I follow suit, trying to subtly shift the tiniest bit closer to her.

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