Page 49 of Beautiful Thing

“Hey, leave the two lovebirds alone,” Mom says, swatting at Dad’s arm. Then she turns her bright smile on Layla. “I was juston my way to check out what’s new at Daphne’s boutique. Would you like to join me?”

Eyes wide, Layla starts to stutter. “I-I’d love to. I was just about to, um, take my lunch break, so that works out perfectly.” She rips off her apron and snatches her jacket from the hook like the store is on fire.

She gives me a fake smile and a big wave—yes, awave—when she’s already halfway out the door. Oh, jeez. Talk about a proper goodbye for your fake boyfriend.

Layla and I? We’renailingthis faux-dating thing. Clearly.

Dad turns to me with a shake of his head. “Anyway, I’m looking for pipe fixtures,” he says, giving me whiplash with the sudden change of subject. “What do you have for me?”

He marches off toward the plumbing aisles. I trudge along after him, still trying to wrap my head around the current state of my life.

20

LAYLA

The delicious weight of Archer’s body pressed against mine still lingers in my head long after I’ve fled the confines of his office. Even now, as I hang out with the girls at Daphne’s boutique a few streets over.

I still have no idea how the heck that whole situation with my boss-turned-fake-boyfriend escalated so quickly. I was only trying to be playful when I started flirting with him.

But the pocket-rocket he pressed up against me was no laughing matter. That thing washuge.

And when it twitched against my belly, I was ready to drop to my knees and say hello. Honestly, I’m just thankful to Mrs. Brighton for pulling me out of there before I did something crazy.

Like try to kiss Archer. Again.

Because I don’t think I could survive another letdown like that. Fake wedding date or not, the man’s not interested in kissing me. He’s been clear about that. I’m the one who’s not getting with the program for some reason.

Mrs. Brighton, Karli, and I are all hanging out with Daphne here atWisteria & Graceover lunch time. Nicky, Inez and Ziggycouldn’t be here so they have to live vicariously through the photos we keep sending in the group chat.

Daphne opened her vintage clothing boutique about a year ago, right upstairs from the medical clinic Felix and Mason operate together. It instantly became my favorite clothing store in town. I’m mostly a window shopper, though.

Jeans are usually the most practical clothing option for me since I spend my days working at the hardware store and chasing after my toddler. Besides, I don’t exactly have the budget for a ton of fancy clothes. And at this point in time, I’m focused on saving to be able to afford a home for myself and my son.

Even still, I browse through the clothing racks and goof around with the girls. I stand back and watch as my friends start having their own little fashion show, trying on some of the newest pieces Daphne’s recently brought in.

I catch sight of one dress in particular that’s a real stunner. It’s a strapless summer dress covered in daisies of all colors. It’s girlish and playful and it brings a smile to my face.

When my attention lingers on the dress a little too long, Karli sweeps the hanger out of my hand. “Ooh, Layla! This would look divine on you!” she gushes, holding it against the front of my body.

I peek at the price tag and scrunch up my nose. “Buying a summer dress in the dead of winter feels like a bit of an overindulgence.”

“It’ll be summer eventually.” My bestie grins with a shrug of her shoulders. “You should at least try it on.”

Daphne comes up behind me, piling my hair into a messy updo on the top of my head. “You would look so gorgeous in this. Do you want me to put it aside for you?”

Everyone stands around watching me and I feel embarrassment heat up my cheeks.

“No.” I take the hanger from Karli’s hand and meekly slip it back onto the rack. “It’s too…much. I’m trying to get my finances in order at the moment, guys. Being ‘gorgeous’ is the least of my concerns right now. I’m just trying to survive.”

Daphne nods in quiet understanding. “I get that, hun. Priorities, y’know?”

Karli gives my shoulder a squeeze. “You’re a momma on a budget. Saving is sexy. I’m proud of you, babe.”

Meanwhile Mrs. Brighton stands off to the side, observing quietly. But she says nothing.

Still feeling self-conscious, I pluck another outfit off the rack. “Now,thiswould make a sexy little dress for you, Mrs. Brighton. A potential wedding outfit?” I brandish the slinky plum-colored number in the air.

It doesn’t take a lot of peer pressure to convince Mrs. Brighton to try it on. When she tiptoes out of the dressing room, our jaws drop.