Gabriela
Brunch with Anna and Layla was something I looked forward to every week. It was like a reset button for me, spending time with my found family while gorging on French toasts, fruits, and lattes.
Who needed therapy when you could have girls’ time with your best friends?
After eating, we hung out in Anna’s impressive walk-in closet with the strains of an old Beyoncé song playing in the background as she took our measurements. The crystal chandelier above our heads illuminated the space, the walls decked out with velvet displays containing priceless jewelry, shelves with heels and thigh-high boots—Anna’s guilty pleasure—pink silk hangers with rows of lingerie, and endless designer and thrifted clothes, including Anna’s own creations, which, in my opinion, were far superior to anything you could buy on the market. She was incredibly talented and would one day have her own haute-couture label.
“I should have these bustiers done by the end of the month,” Anna said, the statement earrings in her lobes swaying as she bent forward to wrap the measuring tape around Layla’s waist. “What colour do you want for yours, Lay?”
I’d already requested mine be black.
Layla gazed at her reflection in the ornate mirror with a tilted head. “Normally, I’d ask for white, but Josh does love me in yellow. Maybe something in between…like a cream colour?”
Anna’s hazel eyes found me where I leaned next to the glass showcase housing all her beauty queen pageant trophies, and we shared a knowing smile. Layla in love was a good look. For years, she’d been shy and closed-off, never allowing herself to feel too much. Then Josh entered her life and bulldozed through all her walls with his golden retriever energy. She’d never stood a chance against the determined mob prince.
Catching our expressions in the mirror, Layla narrowed her green eyes. “Stop that.”
“What?” I shrugged, trying to tame the teasing nature of my features. “We haven’t said anything.”
Layla released a long exhale, rolling her eyes, despite her own smile twitching her lips. “I know, but you’re all thinking it. I’m whipped.”
“Hey—you said it,” Anna piped up while writing Layla’s measurements on her pink notepad. “Not us.”
Layla combed her fingers through her dark hair and sighed. “Sometimes I have these moments where I wonder if all of this—him—is too good to be true. I feel like one day I’ll wake up and it will just have been a dream. One big fantasy I concocted in my mind.”
Layla rarely opened up to others. Josh was the first man she allowed herself to be emotionally available with and this was the most vulnerable she’d ever been. “You’re a sure thing, Lay. You have nothing to worry about.”
A wistful expression flashed on her countenance as she turned around to face us, adjusting the cap sleeves of her white satin maxi. “You’re right. I do have the ring to prove it.”
Josh bought her a sparkly diamond a few months ago—he was single-handedly raising all her standards—as a promise. They were saving themselves for one another.
The romantic in me swooned, but the cynic in me scoffed. Sometimes my track record with men made it hard for me to believe that maybe there were good ones out there who’d do anything for their significant others. But Josh was definitely one of them.
“Let’s also not forget the tattoo on his chest that says Layla,” Anna launched over her shoulder as she walked towards the mannequin in the corner of her closet, her pink thigh-high boots click-clacking. They were brand-new and she was trying to break them in. “If that doesn’t prove that man is insane for you, I don’t know what will.”
Layla blushed.
“See?” I said. “You have nothing to worry about—”
Layla’s phone ringing cut off the rest of my sentence. “Oh, it’s him.”
Speak of the devil. “Don’t mind us. Answer it.”
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Yes,” Anna assured and then chin-nodded at me as she placed the measuring tape around the mannequin’s neck. “Gabby, come over here. I want to show you something.”
With a grateful glance in our direction, Layla brought her phone to her ear, saying, “Hi, Jay.”
“Josh and Layla, sitting in a tree,” I sing-songed loudly and teasingly, skipping after Anna. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”
Layla palmed her face with an embarrassed groan. Anna laughed and I was certain I heard the distinct sound of Josh singing along on the other side like a little shit. They continued their conversation in hushed voices, probably confirming their dinner plans for tonight, while Anna and I headed into herbedroom, a glamorous affair composed of pink, gold, and white accents.
She perched against her regal vanity laden with makeup and ornamental bottles of perfume, and I walked towards her queen-sized bed to take a seat. My eyes wandered over to the shelves beside Anna, holding all her crowns, sashes, and sceptres from past competitions.
“What did you want to show me?” I asked, sitting on my hands and wiggling my feet that barely touched the floor. Out of all my friends, I was the shortest. Anna was five-foot-nine, Layla five-foot-six, and myself? A whopping five-foot-two. Though I made up for my lack of height with my personality.
“Nothing.” Anna picked a red nail polish from her stash and shot it my way. I caught it. “I just wanted to give Layla and Josh some privacy.”
