Page 80 of The Layover

“Fake marriage.” Justin ticked off a finger. “Everyone issued retractions but you and Diego.” Another finger went up. “Two months later, you still haven’t denied it.” Three fingers out.

He wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t ready to admit it. “You said it yourself—it was fake. The first source got it right.”

“Mhm.” Justin looked unimpressed.

I wasn’t going to argue with my cousin’s boyfriend about internet keywords and whether or not anything anyone said online mattered. I sipped my coffee instead.

“If you miss her, why haven’t you hopped on a plane to go get her?” Justin asked.

Sigh. The idea was so much more tempting than I wanted him to know. “First of all, I didn’t say I missed her, and second because I’m not a fucking caveman. I don’t go find a woman and hit her over the head and say mine before I drag her back to my cave.”

“To each their own.” Justin shrugged.

“Don’t listen to his bullshit,” Antonio said. “When he got here, he had to beg Emily and me to even listen to him. There was no cavemanning.”

Justin rolled his eyes. “I didn’t beg. I don’t beg. You saw me because you can’t keep your hands off me.”

The story had been cute the first hundred times they told it. I wasn’t in the mood for it today. “Keywords. Advertising. SEO. Got it.” I pushed back from this table.

Antonio looked like he wanted to say something more, but instead we wished each other goodbye, and I headed to the church.

As much as I wanted to wipe the conversation, Justin’s words, from my mind, I couldn’t. The thing about Carly though, one of the things I adored about her, was that she wouldn’t be won over by a grand gesture like I’m here, now, on your doorstep. Come back to Italy with me.

She’d probably tease me and ask if that was the best line I had, and I’d counter with something far more witty, and we’d one-up each other verbally until we were either fake-fighting, or fucking.

God I missed her.

I headed back to the worksite, but I couldn’t get Carly out of my head. Worse, I didn’t know what to do about it.

Why haven’t you hopped on a plane to go get her? Justin’s question played on repeat in my mind, taunting me.

Because it wasn’t that easy. Because my family—my husband, my daughter—were here. I could take them with me, but we barely trusted ourselves walking out of the house with Eloise. There was no way we’d survive the paranoia of flying her to the US.

And what the hell was I doing, even considering the ridiculous suggestion?

The thing was... At least that was something. Better than all of the thinking and nothing I was doing now.

Thoughts of Carly stayed with me through the workday. How much I enjoyed her company. How perfect she was with our family. How hard I’d fallen for her and didn’t realize it until it was too late.

But I managed to make it through with my sanity intact, despite the one problem that had no solution except get over it. When we got home from work, we did all the normal things. Listened to Eloise tell us about her day. Made dinner. Read after. Tucked our baby girl in safe and sound.

The whole thing was so perfect as-is. I really did have an amazing life.

And knowing that didn’t stop that frustrating tick in my head insisting something—someone—was missing.

When we got to our room at the end of the night, I was still no closer to either a solution to getting Carly back, or to pushing thoughts of her out of my head.

Diego slid up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and rested his chin on my shoulder. “What has you distracted?” His question teased my neck.

I leaned into him and covered his hands with mine. If I told him, would I have to hear I told you so? It didn’t matter. This needed to come out or it would drive me mad. “You were right. We need Carly in our lives.”

It’s about time you figured it out.

Why didn’t you see it sooner?

Now you realize…

I was certain that some variant of those would come out of Diego’s mouth.

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