Page 30 of Labor of Love

“Layla, I’m not going. I forgot to cancel.”

“I didn’t know you agreed to attend.” She pulls the sheet over her. “Go. I’ll be busy talking with clients anyway.” Layla stares at the screen instead of me. “People are counting on you.”

“You are counting on me.” Taking the phone from her, and setting it aside, I cup her face. “You’ve worked so damn hard for this.”

“You’ve worked hard to be invited to these events.” The defeat in her voice breaks my heart.

“I’m. Not. Going.” Except my words haven’t done the best to match my actions in the past.

“It’s fine.” It’s not because she gets out of bed with the sheet around her. “I need to shower and finalize things for my gallery.” I’m out of bed and behind her. “It’s hard to focus with you here anyway.” Her arms cross, guarding herself as she leans against the doorframe.

“Are you...kicking me out?” My jaw tightens. The lump in my throat denies my swallow.

“I am.” I admire the strength in her voice, but damn if it doesn’t feel like being thrown off a bull two seconds in. She places a kiss on my lips, but steps away when my hands lift to cradle her face. “Please be gone by the time I’m out of the shower.” Air whooshes out of me.

“We’re not…over.” Shit isn’t ending this easy. I won’t let it.

“No. But I’ve spent the past eight months setting boundaries for myself and healing to make sure I curate the life I want.” Me accepting the event without telling her, for the second time around, crosses all the boundaries she’s set.

“I know, Layla.” She holds my eyes, taking a deep breath of disappointment.

“I told you to take a deal awhile back, and you gave a whole speech about being done and how you’d be there for me.” She’s one hundred percent right. “Now I’m not the most confident in your words.”

“Layla, I lov––” She cuts me off, her finger pressing to my lips.

“Now is really not the time for that, Stetson.” The firmness in her voice hits hard, dragging my heart down to my gut.

“I’m gonna be there for you.” Sadness fills her eyes before walking to the bathroom.

“Do whatever you need to do.” There goes the tightening in her voice, holding back emotion she doesn’t want me to witness.

I need to prove I’m a man of my fucking word.

15

LAYLA

Ican’t deny I haven’t cried myself to sleep the past two nights. The sting of knowing there’s still a price point to pull Stetson away rips open a scar. It’s not even the fact he was leaving. I’d love to join him or Karli on a trip. Hell, I might even look into it for myself.

Walking out of my bathroom the other day to an empty apartment made it feel like he was gone for good. He reeled me in and spit me back out just to leave me with my own heart to patch again. He made me believe things would be different…but he wasn’t open with me.

I couldn’t be around him the other morning even if I had planned to have my muse by my side.

Now, I stand in a fancy dress, missing him. Stetson texted how proud he is, and he’s looking forward to coming. But he wasn’t here with Parker or his parents for setup and hasn’t come by my apartment since I asked him to leave…and I guess he respected my wishes. I replied with a basic “thanks” and left it at that. I wouldn’t hate him if he ended up at the other event, but the walls will be firmly back in place. He’ll need to put in some extra labor to earn my trust.

“You’re all set, hottie.” Karli slaps my ass as we stand in the middle of the gallery amongst the maze of paintings.

Nerves transform into excitement. Being personally invited, I didn’t need to pay the space fee, just a commission percentage. I’ve accomplished another dream doing what I love.

“Thoughts on the silent auction?” A few pieces I’m having trouble parting with are what I’m hoping to profit the most on. I’ve featured them as in-person exclusives because they’re not—and won’t be—on my website or social media.

“It’s a smart move!” Karli leans in closer, examining the painting I was most excited for Stetson to see. “This one is an unexpected piece from you and quite the showstopper.” She eyes me suspiciously. “I’m not asking questions.”

“Good call.” Joy settles my heart as we are minutes from opening.

Harold, the host, has been so cheerful and kind and I’m excited to make him proud with tonight’s success. I’ve earned this. He welcomes the guests with a heartwarming introduction, followed by my own speech. As I look in the crowd, Stetson is noticeably absent—this discovery and speaking publicly churns my stomach.

“These are stunning, but your giant goat is coming home with me.” Finn, one of the Hearts Bend town council members, comes up to me halfway through the event.