Page 33 of Layla Meets Her Match

She swings her legs off the ottoman, and I know I’ve been busted. But she just gives me a quick smile, turns around, and kneels on the couch, leaning over the back and grabbing a blanket from a basket there. Then she plops back down again next to me, and she’s definitely closer. Our legs are touching from hip to ankle.

Accident? Not an accident? I don’t dare look at her. If I do, I’ll give my churning thoughts away. I keep still, then worry that I’m keeping too still. Am I breathing normally? Okay, am I hyperventilating now? I try to focus on the movie and just forget the fact that the amazing Layla Delaford is sitting right next to me, the warmth of our legs touching about to incinerate me from the inside out.

I am a hopeless fool for her, and there’s no way I’m going to be able to keep my feelings inside much longer. Maybe if I just find some way to tell her and let her know that I’m not rushing her into anything. We don’t need to date. I just need to let her know I’m head over heels for her before I combust.

Then she leans against my shoulder. Is the house on fire? Why aren’t any of the alarms going off? Because it has to be something like a thousand degrees in here. I turn to look down at her, knowing that her initiating a cuddle between us means that me broaching the subject of our feelings won’t be that off base.

Except … she’s sleeping. Her eyes are closed, and from this vantage point, I can see her long, dark lashes resting against her cheeks. Even her perfect plump lips are open the slightest bit, and her shoulders rise and fall slowly.

I sit motionless, staring at her, half of me wishing I could get to my phone to take a picture and capture this moment, and the other half knowing that’s definitely creepy. I can’t look away, so I try to sear the memory into my brain. I can be patient with Layla with this memory to tide me over.

She’s so beautiful.

I’ve known this since the moment I saw her at one of Eli’s barbecues earlier this summer. It had made sense that she’d be stunning since Eli told me she used to be an actress, like his sister. Then she’d taken Margot from Mila, who’d been holding her, and smiled at her. It was the stuff of rom-com movie cheesiness. The sun seemed to circle around her, lighting her up. Or maybe that was the way her smile made her glow. I was a goner from the start.

Then I kept coming to the stuff Eli invited me to, and I kept seeing her. And I got to know her, and everything made her even more beautiful. The way she loved Landon and Mila. How smitten she was with her baby. Her confidence. How unafraid she was in a life that seemed to have blown up around her.

I carefully shift my arm, pressing it back against the couch to slide it up while disturbing her as little as possible. She stirs a little, but just shifts her weight so she’s leaning against my chest. I gently drape my arm over her, and she snuggles in closer.

Her moves might be unconscious, but I grin all the same, and then I quickly wipe it away, knowing that likely every single person in this room is watching this interaction right now.

Very slowly, I inch down so I can lean my head back on top of the couch. I can’t help a side-eyed glimpse at Eli on my left. He grins and gives me another thumbs-up. I roll my eyes—right over to my right side. Landon is at least watching the movie, but he’s grinning as wide as Eli is. I turn my attention to the movie and don’t look at them again.

This is the best night ever, and I’m going to enjoy every second.

CHAPTER 19

LAYLA

I lie awake, staring at the ceiling. I can’t say if it’s because I took an almost two-hour nap at Eli’s while everyone else was watching the movie or if it’s because I woke up in Lincoln’s arms.

I woke up in Lincoln’s arms.

There’s a possibility I might have a little crush on him. This did not help. Since I’m not supposed to be trying to date, once I realized what I’d done, I sat up quickly and distanced myself so he wouldn’t get the wrong idea. And gentleman that he is, he didn’t react to my scramble. Or the way I discreetly wiped the edge of my lips and then prayed that I hadn’t drooled on his shirt. Since I couldn’t meet his eyes, staring at his chest to double-check seemed the right thing to do.

He'd walked me out to my car and carried all our extra stuff—the folded-up portable crib that Margot sleeps in even at home. He’d slung my ruffly gray-and-pink backpack over his shoulder and didn’t look bothered at all to be toting around something so feminine, and he even carried Margot’s minky blanket and stuffed Rays bear so he could hand it to her in the car seat.

If I were dating, Lincoln would be the perfect man. He’s so loyal, the way he comes to Mila’s bakery truck every day to support a friend in her business. He’s also gentle and kind, with none of the fake charm that pours off every good-looking actor in Hollywood, especially That One Guy. He’s so careful about everything he says, like he’s thinking about every word, that I know he’s genuine. There’s also a feeling in my gut that says he’s the real deal, but I’m not sure I can trust that gut again so soon. Even if I believe it.

I huff and then roll over, looking at my watch and then glaring at the time. Two a.m. I can’t afford to miss sleep like this. I’m a single mom, for heaven’s sake. There won’t be an after-work nap for me if I can’t sleep tonight. I sigh and roll over again, staring back at the ceiling again before closing my eyes and squeezing them shut.

It doesn’t help that I picture myself all snuggled up to Lincoln the minute my eyes are closed again. Maybe if I just lean into it and accept the daydream, I’ll fall asleep faster. I let myself imagine him kissing the top of my head, and me looking up at him and smiling contentedly. I don’t know if it’s because I’m an actor or what, but this scene is easy to recreate in my head. I snuggle down into my pillow a little more and even give a soft sigh when I picture Margot, in a few months, toddling up to us and reaching up her hands to Lincoln. He scoops her up with his free arm and pulls her in close.

That was the picture of the future I’d had when I first found out I was pregnant—well after I’d stopped hyperventilating. And obviously a different man had played the part of the devoted dad. But that’s exactly what You Know Who had done. He had played a part, and when he hadn’t liked that part anymore, he’d walked away.

Picturing myself with Lincoln already brings a certain peace with it that had always been missing from my relationship with Margot’s father. There had been too many nerves and too much guessing with him.

In my mind, I empty the room around us at Eli’s, and then I change it up altogether. I picture a small, cozy couch here. That seems silly, since if anything happened between me and Lincoln, we’d probably spend more time at his more spacious place. But I’ve never been there, and I don’t know what it looks like. Besides, it’s kind of cute thinking about him wanting to be here with me and Margot, small and simple as it is.

I smile again … and finally drift off.

On Wednesday morning before the truck opens for the day, a police officer meets Mila, Astrid, me, and Lincoln to talk to us all. When he’d called Mila after she made the report yesterday morning, he’d told her he thought it would be best to have us all together, so that meant early because of Lincoln’s practice schedule.

Officer Brady isn’t the type of guy that TV shows are modeled after. He’s not ugly and fat or anything. He’s just kind of plain, on the shorter side (especially standing next to Lincoln), with light brown hair that keeps falling into his face as he speaks to us.

“Only Mr. Knight has been targeted?” he asks after Mila explains what happened.

“It seems like it,” Mila says, rubbing her hands together. Then she stuffs them into the pockets of her wide-leg linen pants. “We closed down for several days the first time, but no one reported food poisoning like Lincoln’s friends did. My fiancé has a friend at the college who tested the cookies and found arsenic on them. Just a tiny bit, enough to make someone sick. We thought it was just a prank.”

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