Page 72 of I Still Love You

What the hell?

Britney wrinkles her nose in disgust. “Must you talk like that?” She lowers her voice. “Luke is sitting right next to you. I would appreciate it if you didn’t talk about my—my vagina.”

Layla pulls her foot from my chair and straightens after laying her cards on the table. Her eyes are on me, but her announcement is for all of us. “I’m going to eat some taco dip until you two are done.”

Doesn’t she see that Claire and Britney are too busy fussing over Rus’s junk to give two shits? She pushes her chair out, walking in the opposite direction of the kitchen. That’s not where the taco dip is. What are you doing, Layla?

I tune out Layla’s sisters and follow her. One more minute of hearing about some dude’s nutsack, and I’ll drive myself over a cliff. I’m familiar with the layout of the home, knowing there’s a bathroom at the end of the hall along with a small library her parents installed for them when they were younger. The hall sucks me in almost immediately, and I ignore the family pictures on the walls and the wildflower paintings on either side of the bathroom door.

I curve my neck around the doorjamb of the open bathroom and peek in with a snooping ear. Nothing. There’s a gap in the library door when I approach. Toeing it open, I scan the small space, taking in the hand-built bookshelves along the walls that stretch from floor to ceiling. Along the adjacent wall’s window is a built-in bench, which is where I find her.

I push the door shut and twist the lock, hoping like hell it still works after all these years. Now that we’re finally alone, there’s no way in hell I’m going to let anyone ruin it, especially Claire and Britney and their catty squabbling.

Layla’s decent mood is gone, replaced by a sad demeanor that tugs at my ribs and threatens to crack them. Her knitted brows tell me she’s deep in thought, and I can’t help but ask, “What’s wrong?”

She looks at her hands, fumbling with her fingers before turning to lie back on the bench. “My dad always knew how to get the two of them shut up, and he’s not here to…”

Here’s the thing. I shouldn’t worry about what has her upset. If she wanted my listening ear, she should’ve come to me years ago. Walking away was the worst decision. For herself and our relationship, but I’m trying to forgive her so I’m not so angry.

With my hearing less than a week away, I need to keep my head on straight. I can’t be throwing fists or bitching people out. I need to get to the root cause of my anger and lack of self-control when certain circumstances present themselves, and I know it’s her. Layla is the root of all my best and worst moments.

I cross the room, pick up her legs, and sit down, resting her feet on my thighs. Gently, I rub my palms up and down her calves, working her tight muscles from hours of being on her feet every day. “You want to talk about it?”

“He loved you,” she tells me quietly, her voice brittle. A weak smile pulls at her lips. “Would’ve hated Rus. I haven’t met him. Claire tells me things. But you, he liked you. I wish he were still here. I wish…”

“I do, too, Lay,” I choke out. Layla never would’ve run if he were still alive. We would be married and building a family by now if he had never had that stroke.

“He would know what to say to get Claire and Britney to shut the hell up. He always had the right words to say, Luke. With everything. And being in this house…”

Straightening her leg, I grab hold of her hand and squeeze lightly. “I know.” Her blue eyes take on the rough waters of an ocean inflicted by a hurricane. I imagine it took a long time for the weather to clear after she bailed. Grief isn’t easy. I should know. I lost someone when her father died, too.

I pull her into a sitting position and curl an arm over her shoulder. She’s quick to cocoon herself into my side, and my worries fade. “You know,” I start, “I’m here if you need someone.”

“That’s not fair to you,” she murmurs, wiping her cheek when she blinks a stray tear free. “You’re supposed to be working on yourself, remember? You need to stay on the straight and narrow. I’ll only impede that.”

“I was always good when I had you in my life, Layla. Not having you is what hurts like hell.” Reaching up, I cup her chin, encouraging her to look at me. “You made me a better man. You not being there is what shattered me. I didn’t recognize who I was after the jagged pieces sliced me up. So much made me angry, but Andrew woke me up. I can’t be that person. Not only is it exhausting to wake up with so much resentment every day, but I just don’t want to feel so shitty anymore. I can’t lose what I worked so hard for. I can’t. Not when I want to be the man I was when I was with you, even if I don’t have you.”

“Luke, I—”

“Stop. You don’t need to respond to that. I just need you to know how I feel. Forgiveness is the only way to move forward after I blamed you for so long. I realize that now. I just hope you can grant me the same decency in return and accept my apology for not getting here sooner, for being so awful to you.”

She leans into me, pulling my face to hers for a kiss. Her lips, silky smooth, move against me, and I get lost in the way they shed light on the loving parts of me that have been in the pitch black all this time.

Our kiss isn’t greedy but giving. Without her by my side, it’s going to be hard as hell to get through the next week. And I just don’t want to. I’ve lived without her for so long that I can’t go another day. Maybe it’s presumptuous of me to assume she’s feeling the same but fuck it. There’s only one way to figure out if she is.

After her tongue wets my bottom lip, I reluctantly break away. “Come back to my place with me,” I whisper against her lips, “just for tonight.”

Give me one night to show you how fucking sorry I am for the hell I’ve caused. Let me love you like you deserve. Let me show you that I still love you, Layla.

30

Layla

I couldn’t say no. Couldn’t resist.

I want Luke to want me as badly as I want him because the truth is—I never stopped. I might’ve been hundreds of miles away, but he always lived in my heart. After all we’ve been through—the distance, heartbreak, and arguments—it’s invigorating to be back in his good graces.

I know how wrong it was of me to leave, but it helped me heal in ways I wouldn’t have been able to if I had stayed in Quaint. I know I should’ve relied on Luke during that time of my life, but I also can’t go back. I need to push forward. I’m just glad I’m getting to do it this way. With him.

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