Page 34 of I Still Love You

I glance up at the man hovering next to me. “What the hell was that?”

He slides into the other side of the booth. “You tell me, Layla. Are you busy telling your family that we’re back together? It’s one thing to share it professionally, but you’re out of your damn mind if you think it’s okay to bring our families into this.”

He’s not telling me something I already don’t know. This is exactly why I told Claire no when she brought it up. “You’re the one that agreed to dinner! Besides, it wasn’t me,” I tell him.

“What else was I supposed to say?” His brow lowers, his lips flattening. “Well, if you didn’t tell your mom and sisters we’re dating, who the hell did?”

“No, it’s not—” I pause for a beat. There’s no way for me to easily explain this to him, so I settle with not clarifying at all. “Never mind.” Suddenly, I’m careening, figuratively moving quickly and uncontrolled in no specific direction. I’m freaking out over the fact that my mom thinks we’re back together. If I tell her the truth, she’ll flip. She will freak the hell out and wonder if I’ve lost my damn mind.

“What now?” Luke questions, his voice dry and anticipatory of my response.

Everything I get myself into lately has no out, and it’s making me spiral. Unless I want everything to fall apart drastically, we have to follow through. I inhale, lift my head, and look him dead in the eye. Why couldn’t he stay away from me? Why did he jump into the video call? Technically, this is his fault. “If you wouldn’t have so rudely input yourself in a private conversation, we wouldn’t be having this discussion."

“Half of the cafeteria could hear you talking about us. Me, included.”

I squint in challenge. “You’re full of shit. I lowered the volume on my phone long before you came along.” The only way someone else heard was if they were eavesdropping.

He tilts his head slightly. “Tell me,” he starts. “Did you let the cat out of the bag right before I showed up, or was I the entire discussion?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“The entire discussion, then?”

“No.”

“But you were talking about me.”

“I think that much is obvious at this point. Why do you care?”

He leans forward. “Because I don’t want you dragging me deeper into this shit. Two fucking months with you is going to seem like ten years.”

I wish I could say his insult was like a punch in the jaw, but I’m slowly getting used to them, to the way he knocks me down to avoid having to feel anything other than anger toward me. One of these days, he’s going to crack, and I hope to God that I’m there to witness his demise.

I collect my trash and rise to my feet. I smile indignantly. A few of the day-shift nurses and I have to deliver the baked goods to the children’s wing after our shift this afternoon, and I want to be in a good mood for them. “As soon as I have the details, you’ll be the first I tell.”

Cherie Robinson loves hard and would never turn away her daughters. Not for any damn thing, but there’s one thing she hates, and that’s lying. I cannot go back to her after Claire already spilled the lie of Luke being back in my life, and I have no plan to.

I’d rather be beaten over the head with a bag of Luke’s insults than have my mom regard me with disappointment in her eyes.

15

Luke

Sue me for eavesdropping, but I decided last week that I wouldn’t allow her to take my cafeteria lunches from me. I couldn’t help myself when I saw her sitting alone. My feet moved in her direction, and no matter how many times my gut told me to stay the fuck back, I ignored it.

I understand why people listen to their intuition so strongly. Had I, I wouldn’t be about to embark on a mission of a goddamn lifetime. I wouldn’t be walking up to the Robinson’s home with Layla close by.

Jesus. The last time I was after the memorial service, and that makes me uneasy. It steals my happiness, knowing Layla’s dad won’t be beside Cherie when she opens the door to greet us.

And for a second, I wonder what that must be like for Layla. Has their family’s dynamic changed? From their video call I interrupted, I gathered Cherie was doing well. She was as robust and enthusiastic as I remembered, but it was difficult to gauge her sisters. Neither said much, but something tells me Claire is the same outspoken sister I met years ago.

I don’t like that I’m walking into unknown territory. And I fucking hate how the familiar, whitewashed brick steps we walk up beckon the past. “It looks exactly the same.”

Layla assesses our surroundings, the front porch of the home she and her sisters grew up in. A front porch, I have to think she made memories with her dad on. I chance a glance over to the wicker chairs and small end table propped between them before taking in the swing at the other side that hangs from two hooks twisted into the chipping wood of the porch’s ceiling.

I remember Layla telling me all the time he’d spend out here from spring to autumn and how she’d join when she could.

“You expected it to look different?” she asks quietly. Her voice is the essence of calm, even though we’re about to walk into a situation we might not walk away from unscathed.

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