Page 62 of Beautiful Thing

Nolan sits in the chair across from my desk, eyebrow lifted as he bears witness to the tension between me and my supposed girlfriend.

He lets out an annoying whistle. “Damn, big brother. Have you fucked up your new relationship already?”

“Shut up,” I mutter.

“Hey, I’m just making an observ—”

“You want your roofing nails or not?” I interrupt.

Nolan stands and flips me off. “I’m thinking the customer service will be a whole lot better if I wait for your girlfriend to help me tomorrow.”

With a huff, I ball up a sheet of paper and sling it at him. “Well, get lost, then.”

“Sheesh, bro!” Chuckling, he strolls to the exit. “She’s got your balls in a death grip, doesn’t she? That tracks.” He nods slowly.

I don’t respond. My chest is too tight.

His shoulders drop on a heavy sigh. “I know you were good on your own all these years, doing life on your own. But as a man who’s been where you are, I just want to give you a heads-up—now that you got a taste of what it’s like to be with a good woman, there’s no going back. You no longer have the choiceto go back to your old ways.” He pins me with a serious look. “Whatever you did to piss her off, youhave tofix it with her, bro. That’s the only way forward.” He raps his knuckles against the doorframe. Then he’s gone.

I grumble peevishly to myself, glaring at the empty doorway after he leaves. But Nolan’s words remain in my head as I finish up my paperwork and close up the store for the night.

Because I know he’s right.

26

LAYLA

Finishing the last bite of my sandwich, I carefully fold today’s newspaper to the rental section and sling my purse up my shoulder.

Usually, I make sure to pack my lunch for work. But today, I decided to treat myself at the coffee shop across the street from Hammers and Hardware. With all the tension that’s been hovering over the hardware store lately, I was eager to escape at lunchtime to clear my head.

I’ve been on a strict budget over the past few weeks, but Mrs. Brighton was right. I can reward myself with small luxuries even though my life isn’t entirely in order. And today, Ireallyneeded a little pick me up.

I’ve dragged my feet on this house hunting thing for too long. I know that Archer gave me 90 days to get back on my feet but I feel like I need to find a new home for my son and me sooner than later. I need to get out of this unhealthy fantasyland I’ve been living in and focus on building our future. So I used my lunch break to browse the local property listings as I ate.

The whole thing with Archer—living in his house, pretending to be his girlfriend—it was all fun and games for a while. Butafter what happened in his kitchen the other night, it’s too heavy, too painful. Everything is hopelessly complicated.

Now, I’m ready for all this to just be over. I’m ready to go back to being Archer’s younger sister’s best friend and nothing more.

But all the rental options around town are painfully out of my budget. Now, I’m searching my brain for ways to make some extra cash. Maybe I need a second job. Maybe an online gig I can work on after Sky goes to bed at night. I’ll have to figure it out.

Gosh—I’m so damn tired of always having to figure everything out.

I say hello to familiar faces as I wade my way through the small midday crowd here at Jittery Joe’s. I wear my brightest smile the whole time. My neighbors smile back.

No-one can tell that, as I exit the coffee shop and walk toward the intersection, I’m busy trying not to have an anxiety attack.

Maybe that’s why I don’t see him coming.

“Layla!”

When I hear Razor bark my name, my blood runs cold.

My head shoots up. My knees momentarily wobble on the icy sidewalk when I see my ex charging toward me where I’m standing at the red light.Can I catch a break?

“What do you want, Ansel?” I say. I clutch the strap of my purse and try to look unbothered as I stroll past him once the light is green.

“I want to see my son,” he announces, stomping after me.

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