Page 47 of When Love Is Unexpected

She looks at me, her green eyes full of concern.

"He was fine when we spoke on Sunday," she says. "He was calm and accepting. When he walked away, I thought that was the end of it."

"He wasn't counting on me coming back the next day," I say. "and worse yet, he probably isn't expecting you to be leaving with me."

She walks towards me and puts her arms around me when I hug her.

"Laila, you're shaking."

"He was so mad," she says. "He never talked to me like that before."

I hold her close until I feel her relax. A few moments later, Loren, Aaron, and Holly walk into the living room.

"Is everything okay?" Aaron asks, looking from me to Laila and back to me. Our instinct to protect is palpable.

"Yes," says Laila. "I think Eric should talk to someone."

"I can call him," says Aaron.

"You wouldn't mind?" Laila asks.

"No, not at all."

"Thank you," says Laila. "We should get going, but we'll see you all tomorrow."

"Yes," says Loren, smiling. "I can't wait to see what you make us for dinner."

"Mommy's going to do my hair in the morning," Holly says, "and I'm going to wear the barrette you gave me, Sammy."

"That'll be great," I say. "I can't wait to see it." Holly's sweet, innocent voice is like a healing balm for my frayed nerves.

Hugs and kisses are exchanged before we leave. When Aaron shakes my hand, an unspoken order is passed between us: "Take care of her," it says. I receive the message loud and clear.

Once we're outside, I put my arm around Laila, and we walk across the lawn to my temporary home next door.

When I put the key in the lock, I glance at Laila and see that she's crying.

"Laila," I say. "Hey, hey. It's going to be okay."

"That was terrible," she says.

I lock the door behind us and put my arms around her.

"Should we be concerned about Eric or his behavior?" I ask.

"No," she says, wiping away tears with her sleeve. "He just needs time to process everything. I know him, and he would never hurt me or himself."

She walks into the kitchen and opens the refrigerator. "Do you want some water?" she asks. When she turns around, I see another tear streaming down her face.

"No," I say. "Come here."

She puts a bottle of water on the counter and walks over to me, letting me wrap my arms around her again.

"I just feel bad," she says, tilting her head back so she can look at me. "I wish I could love him the way he loves me, but I can't."

"Why can't you?" I ask. "You were with him for two years. Everyone says he's a great guy, a good man."

"That special spark is missing," she says, walking to the couch.

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