Page 92 of Her Counterfeit Christmas
“Layla? What’s wrong?” He sounds concerned and runs a thumb under my eye, wiping away the tears.
My heart gallops in my chest. It takes forever for me to find my voice. “Nothing is wrong.”
“You’re crying.”
“Tears of happiness.” A full-bodied laugh accompanies my words.
His eyebrows lower, and he tilts his head to the side. “What happened?”
Not only am I financially free, my heart is free. I’m a single, twenty-nine-year-old woman who is face-to-face with a gorgeous, caring, funny, thoughtful man who followed her to the airport. He’s what I want. I will never run away from him again. He doesn’t know what he’s in for because I never want to leave his side.
I scoot to the edge of my seat and throw my arms around his neck. My knees bracket his hips. His arms go around my waist. His beard rubs against my wet cheek and his breath is warm on my neck. I feel just as secure in his arms today as I did on Christmas Eve, but now I feel no shame or regret. He is mine. My chest is about to burst from all the happiness I hold inside.
“You’re worrying me,” he says.
“I’m happy. For so many reasons, but right now, I’m happy you’re here.”
“You’re glad I came?” He sounds hopeful.
I laugh again. “Yes, I am definitely glad you came.”
He pulls away far enough to look at me. “You broke up with Spencer.”
I nod and laugh. “Yes.”
“But you left without saying goodbye?”
“I didn’t know how to tell you what a mess I am financially. It was not a little money I needed, it was over one-hundred-thousand dollars and on top of that, another seventy-five-thousand every year. I couldn’t put that sort of financial stress on you. You deserve better. But now, everything is different.”
He studies my face and tenderly moves a lock of hair behind my ear. “Different how?”
Manic, happy laughter burbles out of me again and I pull him close, burrowing my head in the crook of his neck. The scarf he wears is soft against my cheek.
“Rheta is providing everything for my nana’s care. I just got the call. She’s paying off all my debts and giving Nana a monthly stipend. She’s given me my life back. Owen, I want that date you asked me for. I want to spend every day with you. If that isn’t what you want, tell me now because I’m already building dreams for my future and you’re in every single one.”
My declaration is met with silence. I expected Owen to be as enthusiastic as I am now that the barrier keeping us apart is gone, but I must have misunderstood why he’s here. I pull away, but he doesn’t let me go. Our eyes meet. His lips lift in the grin I adore. He must see my confusion at his silence. I essentially told him I love him and he hasn’t said a word in response.
“I want to be a part of those dreams, Layla. I’m thrilled that Rheta stepped in to help. But before I tell you how much I love you, I have to share with you something else and I’m nervous you’ll be mad.”
My heart soars, then sinks. What could be more important than his love for me? “What do you have to tell me?”
He unwraps his arms from around my waist and leans back on his heals. I shiver as the cold air blows against my back. Trepidation sinks into my soul. This is bad.
“That manufacturing company I started with my friend?”
“I remember.”
“We manufactured bags.”
Not what I expected after the introduction he gave to this confession. “Bags?”
He points to the Boudron at my feet. “Those bags.”
My jaw drops. I need confirmation that I understand correctly. “Boudron is the company you sold?”
“Just my half. Believe me, our success surprised no one more than us. It was all about timing and getting the attention of the right fashion designers and celebrities. Without social media, we’d probably still be working out of his garage.”
I’m not computing the words he speaks. “Boudron? The hottest designer bag on the market for the past three years? That Boudron?”
