Page 63 of The Last Time

It’s mesmerizing.

My own release can’t be held off any longer. With my forehead falling to her shoulders, I let myself go.

Chapter Eighteen

Charlotte

TwoWeeksLater

“Avery,” Layla shouts over the music. “Nobody wants to hear about how you stuck your finger up your boyfriend’s butthole.”

I nearly choke on my beer as I look around to make sure nobody heard that.

It’s the Fourth of July celebration in Savannah on River Street. A live band is playing on a large stage set up near all of the food trucks and games.

We used to come here all the time with my parents. I love the energy.

I consider Avery’s admission, maybe one she just made after one too many beers.

“Did he like it?” I find myself asking.

“He loved it,” she says. “He came almost instantly.”

“Hmm,” I say. “Interesting.”

Avery looks at me mischievously. “Are you going to try it on Asher?”

“Ewww!” Layla interrupts. “Just…no! Please, please. I beg of you. If you ever do such foul things to my brother, never, and I mean NEVER, tell me about it.”

I throw my head back in laughter while Avery almost spits out her beer.

“I just asked a question,” I defend.

“Auntie Layla!” a high-pitched little voice squeals from behind me.

I turn around and see the cutest little toddler running toward us. It dawns on me that she just spoke the words Auntie Layla which means—my eyes look behind her. My heart flutters in my chest when I see him walking behind her with the biggest smile on his face.

He watches with admiration as his daughter jumps into Layla’s arms. Once she’s safe in her auntie’s arms, his eyes move to mine.

His eyes are brimmed with tenderness as he comes close to me, looking down on me intently.

“Hey, you,” he says. “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”

I gaze up at his handsome face. “Layla was able to free herself from the café last minute.” I look around at all the commotion. “I forgot how much I loved coming here for the Fourth.”

Josh and Kyle show up behind Asher. Kyle goes right for Avery while Josh rolls his eyes at a scowling Layla.

“Who this?” Brie says in Layla’s arms as her chubby little finger points in my direction.

I turn my attention to her and wave.

“Brie, this is my friend, Charlotte,” Layla says. “We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

“Hi. You pretty,” she takes a piece of my dark hair and starts twirling it around her finger, “like my doll.”

I try to suppress a giggle. “That’s so sweet. Thank you. I love your dress.” She’s in the most adorable red, white, and blue dress with a matching bow in her hair. “Did your daddy pick this out?”

She chuckles. “No, silly. Ganma.”

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