Page 1 of I Still Love You

Prologue - Layla

Gone too soon.

Gone too soon.

Gone. Too. Soon.

That three-word phrase had been on repeat throughout the entire memorial service. Half the time, I tuned it out. It’s just a reminder of our new reality. My mom, my sisters, and I live in a different world than my dad now. I can’t stand to think about going a day without calling him to talk or battling it out in our never-ending game of scrabble that we constantly had going on our phones.

It was too much. Worse now that most of our home was filled with friends and family—our mom’s idea and the reason for my ass being planted on the bench by the front door. I didn’t want to go in any further. Too many memories from growing up in this house made it hard to breathe. That, and I truly didn’t want to be around anyone. Not a soul. If I had it my way, I’d be alone.

“Where is she?” I see and hear Luke before he can find me in the crowd. His clothes, the color of death, blend into my sister’s too-black long-sleeved dress as he stands next to her. Any other day, I’d allow my eyes to roam over the man who proposed to me not long ago, but I’m lifeless inside as I circle my engagement ring around my finger. Aside from the grief and sadness, no other feeling takes hold.

I hitched a ride back to the house with my sisters after my mom asked him to run to the store to pick up extra paper products, worried that what she had on hand wouldn’t be enough. Of all things to be worrying about at a time like this…

I don’t understand it, though I think it’s her way of coping. I lost my dad, but Jesus, she lost her soul mate—the man she spent twenty-nine years married to and planned to be with until her last waking breath.

My stomach constricts at the thought. I hate thinking about who we all lost.

Faintly, I hear Claire’s voice, but I can’t make out her words. I know she gives me away because Luke makes his way toward me. It only magnifies the horrible ache twisting my gut because I don’t want him here. It’s a really shitty way to feel, especially after all that’s happened these past few days, but the more I’m surrounded by people and memories, the more I want to flee. I want to push to my feet, hook a right out the front door, and throw up in my mom’s rosebushes for relief before sprinting back to my apartment. Only I know the reprieve wouldn’t last long, so instead, I stay put.

“You okay?” Such a stupid thing to ask. “Dumb question. I know you’re not okay. What I meant was, do you need me to get you anything? I’m sorry I had to leave you for a couple of minutes. I didn’t want your mom to have to go out when all these people planned to come back here for the afternoon.”

The diamond on my finger takes on a heavy weight, so I drop my hands to my lap. When his legs relax and his thigh rests against mine, I squeeze mine tighter together. I know it’s his way of trying to be here for me, but it’s hard as hell to deal with the extra weight of our relationship, even if we have been together for a while, with the grief that’s rocking me.

“It’s fine,” I tell him softly. “I’m sure she appreciated it.”

“I would have rather been here with you.”

I would have preferred you stay at the store.

“I know.”

He picks my hand up and curls his fingers between mine. His body shifts closer, turning, so his shoulder is propped on the wall behind me. With his free hand, he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. I didn’t do a fancy updo like Britney and Claire did. Instead, I pulled most of my hair back into a messy but somewhat presentable ponytail. The crisp wind blowing in the car on the way home tugged some of it out of the elastic band.

“I fucking hate how red your eyes look. Layla, this is killing me.”

It’s killing me, too, Luke.

In fact, I might already be dead.

I feel emptier with each second that ticks by.

I barely made it through the memorial service without tears collecting in my eyes. I had a tissue box on my lap the entire time, and by the end of it, it was empty.

“Tell me what you need. Please,” he begs, though there’s nothing he can do. Absolutely nothing will make this pain fade. It’s as if my body has figured out how to keep on without the beat of my heart because I haven’t felt it once. Not since mom called me in hysterics that my dad was in an accident. Not since the second I walked into the E.R. and saw her and my sisters in the waiting room and realized the look on their faces wasn’t coming from a place of hope but pure heartbreak.

Rather than answering because I don’t know what’ll make me feel better, I squeeze our linked hands and move to rest my head on his shoulder, though it’s more for him than me. I know how much Luke loves me. That he hates having to go through this without a remedy that’ll help. His heart suffers just as much as mine. How can I cure his pain when I don’t even know how to alleviate my own?

Knowing how precious dad’s life was only worsens the tightness in my chest as the chatter around us fades. Even with the solid relationship we had, it feels like I didn’t get enough time with him. It’s cruel how fucking soon people can be taken. In the blink of an eye. In a fraction of a second.

Here one moment.

And gone the next.

Gone the next.

Gone the next.

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