“I’m Layton.”
As Layton looked back and forth between Garrett and me, my throat tightened, clogged with a combination of fear, tears, and screams.
Oh, wait. Those screams were in my head.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I missed you, needed to see you, wanted to surprise you. But I’m thinking now you didn’t miss me that much. What the hell?”
I reached out and gripped Layton’s bicep, stabilizing myself but also needing to touch him. He was damp from the rain.
“This isn’t what you think,” I blurted. “I know what it looks like. Please, come in and listen to me. My mom ...”
Layton shook his head, unable to meet my eyes. “I don’t think I can do that right now.” He turned away from me and pulled his arm from my grasp, leaving my hand feeling as cold as ice.
“Please,” I whimpered.
With all the drama unfolding in front of him, Garrett just stood there staring, not talking or fighting or explaining or defending.
Little boy-man.
“I have to go.” Layton ran outside on those words and I followed behind. Luck was on his side—a cab emptied right in front of him and he jumped in, slamming the door behind him.
Devastated, I stood on the sidewalk, tears pouring down my cheeks, cold rain pounding onto my shoulders, unable to move.
“Miss, are you okay?”
Soaked and uncertain how long I’d been standing there, I startled and looked up. Apparently one of the last known friendly New Yorkers had stopped to check on me.
I nodded and murmured, “Yeah,” and forced myself out of my stupor.
I looked at my phone. It had been an hour since Garrett showed up at my door to pick me up, and now he was nowhere to be found. My mom was radio silent upstairs in my apartment, and I’d been standing on the sidewalk with the rain dumping on me for close to forty-five minutes.
My feet began to move, and I walked anywhere but home as a tornado whipped up inside my head.
Why didn’t Layton listen to me?
Why didn’t I chase after him?
Why the hell did I just stand there in the pouring rain?
My boots beat the pavement as rain splashed around my ankles. I remembered my adventures with Layton in the city, our time at the beach in California, and the first moment I laid eyes on him again in February ... looking so different but his personality just as amazing. He’d been right to run out on me. I was a head case.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I looked at who was calling.
“I’m not in the mood, Mom.”
“What happened?”
I ducked into a coffee shop, brushed the rain off my jacket, and sat down at a lonely table.
“Mom ...” My voice was tangled in my vocal cords and tears. “Why did you keep pushing for it? I went and did what you wanted, second-guessed myself, and now I ruined everything before Garrett and I even went to the damn picnic.”
“Charleston, you can’t keep hauling out to the West Coast for some guy. You’ll move out there for him and lose yourself. You’re a smart woman, a prodigy, went to college early, started to make a fabulous career. Now you meet this schlepper and turn freelance, and want to go off the grid.”
Tears dripped on the table in front of me as I held my forehead in my palm. “Mom, I’m not you, not by a long shot. Was it so bad that you followed Dad on his career? He had goals, and yours were sort of frivolous. Besides, I don’t believe he would’ve stopped you from traveling, seeing things, hearing music. Maybe he would have appreciated going with you sometimes.”
“Do you hear yourself? You talk like you know all about love.”
