“Hmm. Well, they certainly seem to be in love.”
The voice breaks through the fog, causing us to jump apart.
“Layla. Simon. Have a nice evening.”
“About time they left.” Layla grabs her drink and chugs half of it as soon as they’re gone.
The noise of the bar comes back to life. It’s not as crowded now as it was before.
“I’m your fiancé now, hmm?” I cross my arms, staring down at Layla. I don’t give her any space. We’re still as close as before.
A spot I don’t mind being in.
“It was the only thing I could think of.”
“And here I thought I’d get lucky before getting engaged.”
“Stop it.”
“Am I allowed to see you before the wedding? Have we decided that yet?”
“And I’m dumping you.” Layla rolls her eyes at me.
I look at my watch in jest. “Shortest relationship to date. Damn, Layla.”
Layla takes a smaller sip of her drink as our server sets our plates down on the table. “I panicked, okay? They kept firing all these questions at me about you and they acted like they didn’t believe me.”
“Can’t imagine why.”
This gets me a laugh. “I’m sorry. The one on the left there”—Layla points behind her, my eyes tracking her movement—“was my third grade teacher. She’s hated me ever since.”
“Christ, as a kid? What’d you do to get on her bad side?” I grab my drink, taking my own sip. Damn, that shit is good.
“I was never the best student. I’d rather be coloring or dressing up my dolls than be doing my math tables.”
“That’s a long time to hold a grudge.”
Layla laughs, a deep silky sound that I wouldn’t mind hearing more. “What can I say? I never toed the line.”
“So you’ve always been the rebel?”
“I guess you could say that.”
Layla looks calmer than she did earlier. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol buzzing in her veins, or the act we put on. I do know one thing for certain, though. She needs me.
“Christ, no wonder you needed my help.” I scrub a hand down my face, reaching for my dinner.
“At least it’s only for a few weeks,” she reminds me.
One day or a few years, any amount of time is fine.
I don’t mind being Layla’s fake anything. Because fuck, this woman is the real deal.
ChapterTen
LAYLA
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I can’t help but ask Simon again. After how the other night turned out, I expected him to run.
