“What a narcissist,” Grant said.
I nodded. “But I was just so exhausted at this point. I desperately needed a break. To remove myself from that toxic situation. I cried myself to sleep that night, and when I woke up the next morning, I was bleeding and bleeding and bleeding. The bed wassoakedwith blood. I thought I was going to die. My parents rushed me to the hospital, where they told me I’d miscarried.” I worried my lip, staring at the floor. “But, I guess not all of it was ...” I didn’t know how to say this. “It wasn’t a full miscarriage, so they had to go in and ...”
Dilation and curettage.That’s what the doctors called it. A very mild name for scraping the rest of the fetus that wasn’t expelled from your body.
“I never returned to that college. I stayed home and completed my studies online. As soon as I graduated, I moved to New York to disappear and start fresh.”
He closed his eyes. Tipped his head back. Sucked in a breath.
“Come here.” He gathered me into a hug. Our beers fell to the floor. The liquid fizzled and hissed around us, but we didn’t care. Broken glass haloed our feet.
“God, Layla.” He stroked the back of my head, breathing in my hair, his voice a soft growl. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t let go,” I whimpered, burying my nose in his neck. His arms felt like a sanctuary. The pressure of his hold on me healing, like magic engulfing me. “Please.”
“Never,” he promised.
I didn’t know how long we stood there for, but at some point, we heard the whine of a door opening in the hallway, and Maddie’s footsteps. “All done. It’s a good-size room! We’ll be able to fit the crib, changing table, and a rocking cha—” She stopped in her tracks when she found us embracing.
I stepped back, wiping at my face and flashing her a smile. “Thank you for doing this, Mads. You’re living proof that not all heroes wear capes.”
“Oh, I’d never wear a cape.” She picked up her bag and tossed it over her shoulder. “I low-key suspect superheroes always wear them because their asses aren’t nice enough to pull off the tight bodysuits. We all know men skip leg and glutes day to focus on their pecs and biceps.”
“You’ve spent entirely too much time with your husband,” Grant concluded sardonically. “But I have no choice but to accept your accurate criticism.”
I mustered a weak laugh. I loved Maddie, but I also wanted her out of here as soon as possible so Grant and I could continue our conversation. Maddie picked up on the mood in the room, because she handed me the wallpaper catalog, pretending not to notice I was crying, or the beer and glass around our feet. “I put annotation tabs on patterns I think would work for the room. Mostly pastel yellows and greens. I’m gonna go back home now before Chase sends a search party to look for me.”
Grant glanced at his watch, cocking an eyebrow. “A search party? You’ve been here for over thirty minutes. Try the entire NYPD.”
Maddie beamed, gave both of us half a hug, and asked me to call her when I was available.
And then it was the both of us again. Just Grant and me.
“Layla?” He turned back to me.
“Yes?”
“Jessica is just a colleague. Not even a friend. Our work overlaps sometimes. We only went on one date, back in February, and the minute you gave me a sign of life, I dropped everything and ran to you. Then, after that, I told her I was emotionally unavailable. Because I was.Am.
“The second you told me you were pregnant, I sat her down and told her there’d be no more flirting, and certainly no more dating. You’ll never have to compete over my affection, because there isn’t anyone else in the race. You’re not in the same league, not even in the samesport. It’s ...”
His Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow.
“Yes?” I hedged, feeling my pulse thrumming along the side of my neck.
“She’s just someone. But you? You’retheone.”
“You have feelings for me too?” I breathed out.
It had never actually occurred to me. Not because I didn’t think of myself as worthy, but because on paper, we were so different. He was mature and serious and a little on the introverted side. I was reckless and spontaneous and could make friends with a streetlamp. I was teaching little humans colors and seasons while he was finding the cure to cancer. His family had a summer castle in Portofino, and my idea of experiencing Italy was eating penne with ketchup in front of365 Days.
“Yes.” He scowled, like the answer was obvious. “Of course. I’m not in the business of wasting my time on someone I don’t admire. Why do you think I always send you memes? And Instagram videos of people reenacting Simsscenarios? And movie fails? Why do you think I have aGlosssubscription?”
“Because your mom—”
“Please. My mother thinks they stopped printing coupons in the eighties.”
“I always thought you talked to me because we have the same sense of humor and because I’m awesome.” Where was he going with this?
