“It’s literally June,” Layla said, scowling. “That mistletoe had no business being there.”
“I was feeling festive. Sue me.” Maddie shrugged.
“And he was feeling cunning.” I pointed at Chase.
“Yeah?” my best friend scoffed. “Something tells me my complaint box is still going to be empty at the end of the night. I did you a huge favor. I’ll take my thank-you in the form of evacuating yourself from my apartment and buying me a new desk.”
They were being extremely understanding about this. More than I’d ever be. Then again, Chase knew the stakes I had in this matter. “Send me the model, and I’ll buy you another one.”
“You wish. I’m upgrading to something more expensive this time,” Chase said with a devious laugh. “Now, leave. My turn to make my wife moan.”
Layla and I left holding hands and spent the rest of the night making up for lost kissing time.
And more . . .
Chapter Fifteen
Layla
“Shiloh, sweetie, remember what we talked about, practicing gentle hands?” I softly pried a two-year-old from her classmate as she jammed a toy screwdriver into his ear, apparently on a quest to give him a medical checkup. “Why don’t you focus on Ms. Garcia’s new song?”
It was Spanish class for my kids at preschool, and most of the toddlers sat crisscross applesauce on the colorful ABC’s carpet, listening to the teacher singing a new song.
My new teacher assistant, Ashley, and I were present mainly to make sure nobody unintentionally killed themselves. Two-year-olds were exceptionally prone to accidents.
“Maya, sweetie, no,no. You cannot push a broken crayon up your nostril.” I stood up swiftly from the carpet, rushing over to another child.
The door to the classroom swung open behind me, but I paid no attention to it. I picked Maya up, prying the tiny orange crayon from her left nostril. She pouted, clearly unhappy that I’d interfered with her little experiment. I gave her a wink and put her down next to Ms. Garcia so she’d be supervised, then gave her head a pat. “We’ll do some coloringafter yoga class. Listen to the song. Your favorite color is about to be next.”
Ms. Garcia was continuing to belt out “De Colores” loudly when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around, surprised to see Kellianne standing in front of me.
She looked like she’d gone through all nine sections of Dante’s hell, and that wasn’t even being uncharitable. Her eyes were red and swollen, her skin splotchy and lifeless. She’d lost a lot of weight despite already being very slim, and her hair looked like it hadn’t seen a brush since 2000, even though I was pretty sure she wasn’t even alive at the time.
My initial instinct was to hug and comfort her, but then I remembered that our last exchange was less than friendly. I put a protective hand over my belly, stepping back instinctively. “Kellianne. How can I help you?”
“Layla.” She sniffed, looking around the class, like this was the first time she was registering where she was. “I asked management to come pick up the last of my belongings.”
“Oh.” I licked my lips. “Okay, do you need the key to your lock? I should have it in my—”
“Actually, I wanted to speak to you. Do you have a minute?”
“Now isn’t a good time,” I admitted.
Her face fell, her eyes stuck to the floor. I hated that I felt bad for her and wanted to help her despite her cutting words. At the end of the day, Ididkind of ruin her wedding. And if someone burst into my hypothetical wedding with Grant and told me he was the worst human on Earth, I’d have laughed in their face.
The difference was, I was sure there were telltale signs of Connor being a shithead way before I’d shed a light on this issue. He didn’t suffer from a bad trait or two. You neededto throw his entire personality into the trash and start from scratch.
But at the end of the day, being mad at her would be victim-blaming. She wasn’t at fault for the things her husband had done to me and other women.
“I understand.” She nodded briskly, then turned toward the door.
“Wait,” I said. She stopped, but she didn’t swivel to face me. I sighed.
“I have my lunch break in twenty minutes. Why don’t we meet at the park across the street? Grab lunch.”
“Okay. Yeah. Thank you.”
“I’ll text you when I’m there.”
