Page 118 of Beautiful Thing

The police are parked at Layla’s old house. I slow my truck to a stop, rolling down my window when I see the deputy sheriff standing next to his car in the street.

“Hey, Gary. Is everything okay?” I ask him.

“Domestic disturbance,” he replies.

My heart starts pounding.Even though Layla said she’d never go back, I can’t help but fear the worst. Did Razor convince her to come over and talk? Did he somehow worm his way back into the picture? Did she stop by her old house to pick up more stuff for Sky?

Sitting behind the wheel, I see Razor being walked out of his house, escorted down the steps in handcuffs. Meanwhile a hysterical Janet stumbles out onto the porch, sobbing as she speaks to the other uniformed officers.

It’s not Layla. Not my Layla.

Flooded with relief, I finish the rest of my short drive home, feeling even more impatient to get back to the peaceful life Ihave with Layla. When I open the door, I find her cuddled on the couch reading a story to Sky.

As I step inside, they both look up at me with smiles on their faces.

I’m so fucking happy to be home. There is nothing I need outside of these four walls. Everything I could ever want is sitting on that couch, grinning up at me.

I kick off my boots and join them, cozying up on the couch on the other side of Sky. The little boy seems to be mostly back to his rambunctious self and aside from his runny nose, his cold symptoms seem to be almost gone. But Layla looks over at me with red-rimmed eyes and a weak smile, and I know she isn’t as lucky.

I help her finish the story. We take turns reading the book. Sky puts himself in charge of turning page after page, directing whose turn it is to read aloud.

It’s not long before the child begins dozing off.I meet Layla’s eyes over the top of his droopy head. She gives me a tired smile. She sneezes.

“I’m gonna go get him to bed,” she says, wiping her red nose with a tissue from the box on the coffee table.

I’m in awe of how she accomplishes so much every single day. Getting a toddler off to daycare. Working all day long. Somehow finding time to make dinner. Spending time with her son, and then getting him off to bed each night.

All without complaint.All without asking for help. Even when she’s sick.

But I see the exhaustion in her eyes. I just want to make her burdens lighter.

“I’ve got him,” I whisper. I scoop the little boy off of Layla’s lap.

She doesn’t fight me. She doesn’t try to be superwoman. Instead of trying to prove how strong she is, she just lets me helpher tonight. I smile to myself because I feel like I’ve made a dent in her armor. Finally.

Just as I’m about to step inside the bedroom and lay him on his mattress, Sky loops his tiny arms around my neck and squeezes.

“Wub you, Mista Musdache,” the little boy murmurs.

My heart explodes in a way I’ve never experienced before.

I swallow over the rock in my throat, kissing the top of his head. “I love you, too, kiddo.”

This. I’ve always wanted this in my life. I needed it long before I even realized it.

And from the way my heart is aching in my chest right now, I know I can’t afford to lose Layla and Sky.

47

LAYLA

Gazing out the kitchen window, I set a dripping plate into the dish rack. Then I reach my hand back into the sudsy water for the next one.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.Sneeze.

Ugh. I hate being sick. But I’m recovering quickly, thanks to Rainbow’s cough tonic that Archer bought me..

Speaking of my bossy fake boyfriend, he would be so mad if he saw me here, washing the dishes. He refused to even let me go to work today—yet again. And the minute he got back from the hardware store, he took Sky off my hands, insisting that I should take the evening to rest up and focus on getting better.

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