Page 6 of The First Time

It isn’t until we get off the phone and I’m lying in my bed that I start to regret my decision. Something is telling me this is going to blow up in my face, but for some reason, I’m not picking up the phone to back out of it.

Chapter Three

Layla

Layla, it’s Italy. Get over yourself. Just because your best friend can’t make it anymore doesn’t mean the trip is ruined.

Charlotte said she and Asher spent all night figuring out who her backup should be. And really, how could I be mad when my best friend is having a baby with my brother? I’m going to be an auntie again! I feel like Monica inFriendswhen Rachel and Ross announced they were having a baby. Actually, I’m probably a lot like Monica in real life. I’m a chef, she was a chef. I’m a bit neurotic, so was she.

I just hate that Charlotte is feeling so sick. She seems optimistic about it all despite not being able to keep a single thing down at the moment. She looked like a ghost when she video-called me last night. I was slightly alarmed for her health. I spent the next hour googling symptoms to make sure she wouldn’t die from this. See…neurotic.

I wonder who they found to come to Italy with me on such short notice. My hope is that Avery will show up here at the gate. She would be a great companion to eat and drink our way through Italy.

Although, she does have a pretty shitty manager. I would be really shocked if she agreed to a week in Italy without knowing if her boss would be okay with it.

I glance at the clock by the gate number. We start boarding in fifteen minutes. Whoever the hell is coming better get a move on.

And I swear, if my mother is the best that they could do, I will walk out of this airport and slap Asher across the face. There is no way I could do a week alone in Italy with her. She would drive me insane. I’m sure she would go on another tangent about how wonderful William is and how I should give him another chance.

William is my ex-boyfriend—from high school. I mean, seriously, she needs to give it up. I’m twenty-seven years old now. But William is a family friend and our parents have been friends for years. He comes to a ton of our family parties—always there to make me feel like I’m the crazy one for not giving him another chance. He always says that if I were with him, I wouldn’t have to work another day in my life.

He never considers the possibility that I might want to work. It shows how well he knows me. My job is the very thing that breathes life into me. No, to him, he wants the nineteen-fifties wife who will be there to smile on his arm at parties and be waiting at home for him with an apron on and a home-cooked meal. As Taylor Swift would say, “No deal. The nineteen-fifties shit they want from me.”

Just as I’m about to pick up my phone to call Charlotte to let her know I’m out if it’s my mother, I hear someone behind me clear their throat.

When I turn around, my heart flutters for a second before my stomach sours. I hate that he can still cause even the slightest bit of butterflies in me, even after all of these years.

He smirks at me, like he can tell my body is recoiling at the sight of him. “Hey, Freckles. Surprised to see me?”

There’s no way he’s here for me. Asher and Charlotte aren’t that stupid. Surely, they would know that I would rather stick a pen in my eye than spend a week alone with this man.

“Please, tell me you’re here to get on another flight. Did you just happen to see me and decide you wanted to ruin my morning?”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “Guess again.”

“Cut the shit, Josh. There’s no way you’re Charlotte’s replacement, right?”

“I believe I am. Surprised?”

He lifts his bag off his shoulder and places it on the ground at our feet.

“You are going to Italy—with me?” I ask, barely able to get the words out. “There’s no way they would do this to me.”

“Hey,” he says, shrugging his shoulders, “I told them it was a stupid idea. But somehow, they thought I was a better choice than your mother.”

I stop to think about that. Is he a better choice than my mom? I mean, he won’t pester me about working less or finding someone to marry, and it’s not like I have to spend every second with him.

Ugh, but this man in Italy is going to be annoying as hell. I’ll bet he flirts with every woman in his line of sight.

But do I have a choice? Would I ruin my trip just because of him? That would be ridiculous. Zane would literally throw the biggest tantrum. He’d accuse me of finding any reason not to trust him and leave the restaurant to him for a week.

“If I let you come, are you going to spend the entire time flirting it up with the woman, or will you appreciate the culture and food like you’re supposed to?”

I feel like I almost see a crack in his armor, showing a hint of pain at my insult, but then his eyes turn dark. “Will I flirt with all the women there? I don’t know, you’re enough of a mood killer to set the tone for a week of romancing all the women.”

I gasp in surprise at his response. “That’s it. There’s no way in hell I’m going with you.”

I grab my things and stomp away from him.

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