Page 23 of Beards and Broken Hearts

“Holy shit. I was accepted.” I mutter, my head still spinning in disbelief.

Holly squeals in glee, so loud I flinch.

“Not only was I accepted, but I got the top spot in the program and everything that comes with it.”

“Holy Santa Balls, Daph!” She says, giggling at her own joke. Only my Christmas-obsessed sister would make Christmas jokes in September, but it makes me laugh too. It doesn’t take away my building anxiety, I.

“It’s in Starlight Bay, Massachusetts. I would have to leave for like a year or more. Who knows where this will lead. It’s literally the Super Bowl of my career, but how can I go now?”

“How can you not go, Daphne?”

“Layton is here. We just got back together. This is too soon.”

“Before you start spiraling, you should talk to him about it. You can’t give up your dream, babe. If he loves you, he’ll make it work.”

I nod, knowing she’s right but also knowing I don’t want to let him go, even for a year. The high I’ve been riding since last night sours, and my future suddenly isn’t as clear. My heart sinks, and there’s no trace of excitement.

Holly and I have lunch, and she takes the lead in the conversation. She tells me about the odd jobs she’s gotten around town. She’s a photographer and mostly takes jobs she doesn’t enjoy, like school photos and weddings, just to pay the bills. I hope she gets to do more creative projects that make her happy one day.

When we’re done, we clean up, and I finish the laundry. It’s about five when my phone chimes with a text from Layton.

Layton:

I’ve held myself back long enough from texting you. I need you, baby. Come over early…I promise to make it worth it.

A rush of heat blooms between my legs, and I clench them together, thinking about his dirty words. As much as I want to rush over there, I’m in no hurry to have the talk that has to come.

Holly’s right. I can’t just turn down this opportunity with Vivian Lancaster, but how do I let Layton go? Again. What if he feels like I’m abandoning him like he did after his grandpa’s death or worse, that I’m getting revenge for what he did to me?

My heart is in a vice-like grip when I pull up to his house. With a deep, unsteady breath, I make my way to the door, still unsure of what I’m going to say.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Layton

Living alone has always suited me. Never having to worry about someone else’s plans or mess is how I’ve preferred it. Until today, that is, when every hour ticked by slower, and all I could think about was when I would see Daphne again. When I could have her in my space again. It’s a foreign concept, but I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. We’d been back together for a matter of hours, and yet I was thinking about how to get her to move in. What kind of wedding dress would she choose for herself? Would she make it?

What the hell was wrong with me? If I don’t get my shit together, I might scare her off, and that’s the last thing I want. Just spending hours without her has sucked. I can’t imagine her giving up on this second chance now.

When I open the door, she’s still climbing up the steps, and I’m greeted with her beautiful smile. A big duffle bag is slung over her shoulder. That’s a good sign. I reach for it when she steps into my arms and starts peppering my face with excited kisses, making me laugh. I just manage to get the bag before grabbing her around the waist and pulling her into my arms. She easily finds her balance, wrapping her legs around me, and I take her inside and straight to the island counter, kissing her as soon as her ass hits the tabletop. It’s deep and long, and I wish it never ends, but my oven alarm sounds, letting me know the pasta bake is done. I pull away just an inch, putting my forehead to hers.

“I’m so glad you’re here. Would it scare you away if I admit I missed you?”

She smiles up at me, biting that sweet lip again. “No, I missed you too. Thanks for making dinner.”

“I hope you still like Carbonara baked.”

“It’s still my favorite.” She tells me with a look I’ll forever remember. There is just something in the way her eyes shine up at me. The look is so soft and tender, like she’s in awe. As if she thought I could forget anything about her. The thought is ludicrous. I admit I tried for years to push everything about her out of my mind, but luckily, I never succeeded. She’s my person, and she’s here now. Today is the beginning of the rest of our lives together.

We set the table together in silence. Each of us reaches out to touch the other whenever the other gets close, flirting in comfortable silence. I couldn’t be happier. This is exactly what I want for the rest of my life. To come home to Daphne, make her dinner, and listen to her talk about her day while I run my fingers through her hair.

“There’s something I have to talk to you about,” Daphne announces, and suddenly, the comfort in our silence grows thick with tension. Her shoulders are tense as she sits beside me. A worried look paints her face as she stares down at the plate of food in front of her instead of me.

“What is it?” I say gently, taking her hand in mine and bringing it to rest on the table between us. “Whatever it is, Daphne, I’m here for you.”

I was aiming for reassurance, but fear strikes my chest when tears spring to her eyes. My hand lets hers go and cups her face, begging her with my eyes to tell me what’s wrong.

“What is it, baby? You’re scaring me.”

---