Page 35 of I Still Love You

I should’ve retreated when Cherie invited me to dinner. Maybe I should have been just as cruel to her as I’ve been to her daughter because of their association, but I know better than that. Fuck, Layla deserves better than what I’ve been giving. Jesus fucking Christ, she doesn’t even deserve this fucked up version of me as a fake boyfriend.

I’m having a hard time separating my emotions from logic, and I’m blaming it on what we have to do today. “Yes, and no.”

“Listen,” she breathes, twisting to me when we finally reach the porch landing. At any moment, her mom could swing the door open in greeting. My ears crave to hear her delicate voice when all I’ve heard is the hardness in her tone these past few weeks. Today is different, though, and there’s a sadness in her eyes that I haven’t seen in a long time. Not since that day she called me in a panic to tell me her dad had died. “This isn’t the farmer’s market or Sierra’s backyard.”

I sniff and tuck my hands in my shorts, casting her with a look that encourages her to go on. When she looks down and fiddles with the hem of her black-and-white striped tee, I’m tempted to pull her fingers free, but I know it’s the scenario talking and the memories of the past. It’s like a spear to the chest, knowing she’s hurting just from being back at the house she was raised in. If I see her dad in the space around us, she must, too.

“I’m aware that you’re not fond of me, Luke. I’ve allowed you to say what’s on your mind, but this isn’t the place for…for bitter commentary. This is my family, and there are precious memories in there. I’m asking for just a few hours that you tap into the adage of not saying anything unless you have something nice to say.” She drops the hem but keeps her fingers glued together. Her eyebrows lower into a frown, making her reluctance as clear as the blue skies above. “Please, if you can’t do that, I’ll think up some kind of excuse to get us out of this.”

“And risk losing out on my end of the deal?”

She sighs, her eyes flicking toward the front door. “I’m serious, Luke. This isn’t the time or place to display your disgust. Please, just—”

The front door swings open, and a thrilled Cherie appears on the other side of the full-length glass storm door. I wave hello and offer Layla one last glance. Even if we want to walk away, we’re stuck now.

If someone had informed me that Phase 10 is a long ass card game that never truly ends, I wouldn’t have agreed to play after dinner. When Cherie welcomed me with open arms earlier, I thought mealtime was going to be the most difficult to get through, but it turns out it was as easy as past family dinners. I don’t know how to feel about it.

Layla and her sisters set the table, and we ate through easy conversation. I helped Cherie carry the dishes to the sink. I even rinsed them and stacked them in the dishwasher properly. Over the clatter of the dishes, Layla’s laughs crept in through the kitchen doorway from the dining room. And each time it did, I had to force my focus back to the task at hand instead of feeling relieved that her sadness from earlier had faded.

“You’re cheating,” Britney shouts, her finger pointed at Claire. “You’ve been cheating this entire time.”

Claire, filled with the attitude I remember, rolls her eyes and flips Britney off without Cherie seeing, who sits at the head of the table knitting. “How the hell would I have cheated? It’s Phase 10, Brit. Not poker.”

“Because no one gets to the last phase that fast,” Layla interjects, keeping her eyes on her hand of cards across from me. From here, the dining room chandelier casts an angelic glow over her, highlighting her best features. Her high cheekbones, the arc of her lips, the color of her eyes.

It’s a fucking masterpiece if I ever saw one. My fingers twitch to drop the cards in my hand and reach over, but the new me wouldn’t dare do such a thing. The old me would have tossed this hand over my shoulder two hours ago and flipped the table to get my hands on her.

The first time I saw Layla, I was too chickenshit to talk to her. When she kept appearing in that no-name coffee corner in the gym, I told myself it was fate. That if it wasn’t meant to be, she wouldn’t have been there all those times. After a month and a half, I finally got my shit together. I finished my workout, crossed the lobby that intersected the coffee shop, and sat down at her table without a second thought.

She sealed the deal when she impaled me with those blue eyes and lifted the corner of her lips in half a smirk. That was it for me. The moment there wasn’t anyone else.

“What?” Claire prods. “You two going to team up and try to win next time?”

Layla cocks a brow at her from across the table. “We both know you deserve it.”

“Now, now,” Cherie says. “Let’s play nice.”

Britney looks over at her mom. “There’s no such thing as playing nice when Claire is involved.”

“We all know Claire is nice in her own ways. Isn’t that right, honey?” Cherie comments.

“Aw,” Claire pouts. “Aren’t you just the sweetest?”

Brit glares back, and I have to roll my lips to keep from laughing because, as annoyed as I am over this taking for-fucking-ever, I can’t say it’s not entertaining. It’s not only them who steal my attention. It’s the woman across from me whose foot keeps bumping into mine. I can’t tell if she’s doing it on purpose or if it’s an accident.

It’s been so damn long since I’ve seen her in this light. I’m not talking about the waterfall of luminescence pronouncing her features. I’m talking about the relaxed shoulders, the fullness of her smile, the lack of confidence she normally emanates when she’s at the hospital.

It’s a trifecta I’m lucky as shit to see because this is how Layla works. When it matters, she’s an assured, upbeat person, but when she’s in the comforts of the things and people that truly bring her joy, she lets the walls fall and succumbs to the easiness of it all.

She makes it look so goddamn easy. She always has, so I’m not surprised when I don’t see the challenge in the azure when she stares back. At this moment, Layla is the epitome of natural, and it has me fucking crumbling. Has me wanting to climb Mt. Everest and overcome the thinnest air to scream out; Why didn’t you let your walls down for me? Why didn’t you let me be there for you when you needed someone? Why did you leave me?

“Just accept that I’m the winner.” My gaze shifts from Layla to Claire and the phase she lays out on the table. I glance at my hand. I was nowhere near having my phase for this round. Not like it matters. Claire demolished us all. Now I get why Britney is so damn upset. I’d like to take the high road and let Claire get one over on us, but my competitive side comes out.

“I’m calling a rematch,” I announce, laying my own cards on the table for all to see. Everyone else does the same. Britney sighs in defeat. Layla’s foot bumps into mine again.

“Right now, pretty boy?” Claire’s eyes brighten with playfulness. “I’m unsure if your ego could handle a second loss so soon.”

“There won’t be a second loss,” I throw back. “I’ll win if we play again.”

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