An Invisible String

4. Alive

Her head snapped up at the sight of the coffee, and she quickly set her iPad aside, letting out a relieved sigh. "Thank you!" she said, taking a big gulp. "This is so good," she sighed contentedly. "You're welcome," I said, sitting across from her. I watched as she focused on the mug in her hands, her fingers absently turning the ring on her finger.

"Do you miss him?" I blurted out before I could stop myself. It was a stupid question, and I had no idea why I asked it. "What? Who?" she looked up at me, confused. "Your fiancé or husband," I said, nodding toward her ring. "Oh, no," she chuckled. "This happens all the time," she said, rubbing her forehead. "It's my grandma's ring. She gave it to me when I graduated high school. She always said diamonds were made for me, which is silly, but who could say no to diamonds?" she held up her hand between us.

Her hands were small, her fingers short and a bit chubby, but there was a delicate beauty to them. "I think your grandma was right; your hands were made for diamonds," I said, holding her hand in mine. She blushed. "And it's really sweet, the bond you share with your grandma. I love my grandma too. She didn't get me a diamond ring, but she did buy me my first typewriter," I said with a shrug. I didn't know why I shared that, but it felt compelled to share something personal after she shared hers.

"Aww! I've always wanted a typewriter, but I'd probably use up all the paper in the world with my typos," she said with a chuckle. "Why? Do you write too?" I asked, curious. It was strange how I was always so interested in her. "Huh? No, I don't. I just read," she said, her close-lipped smile returning. As if suddenly realizing how close we were, she pulled her hands away.

"Look at me, rambling and forgetting that I am the manager. I should get back to work! Thank you for the coffee, Mr. Morretti," she said, finishing her coffee and hopping off the stool. "Wait!" I got up as well. I wanted to tell her that I enjoyed our conversation and that she wasn't neglecting her duties, but my phone started ringing. I glanced at the screen and saw Beth's name—my ex-girlfriend, the one responsible for this whole event.

"One second," I said, picking up the call and immediately hearing Beth's angry voice. The breakup had been peaceful at first, but when I left her the house and ghosted her for six months, she lost it. "Can't you just change the locks?" I asked, rubbing my temple. "Fine, Beth, fine. I'll drive down there tomorrow and drop off the key," I said, and she hung up without another word.

"I'm sorry," I apologized to Layla, who was now standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, hugging her iPad to her chest and staring at her shoes. "You don't have to apologize," she said softly, her eyes kind. "Is it weird that I miss her but at the same time don't want to see her? Does that ever happen to you?" I asked. I wanted to stop talking, to stop dragging her into my mess because she was just here to do her job, but I couldn't seem to help myself.

"I suppose it's normal. I don't know much about breakups, never been through one, but it seems normal. You'll get over it. And hey, it's okay if it makes you feel alive—if the pain, the grief, the missing, or anything else makes you feel alive, even if it's only for tonight, then it's okay. It's what makes us human," she said, giving my arm a gentle, comforting squeeze before excusing herself and walking out. 

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

I jumped off the couch when I heard a scream coming from the kitchen. Rushing in, I found Layla clinging to the cabinets, standing on the counter with her leg tucked up as Tess bounced around on the floor. "Get your fucking dog out of here! Why is it always trying to eat my foot?" she exclaimed, pulling her leg closer to her body.

I wanted to laugh. Her fear of Tess was absurd. I had never met anyone afraid of dogs, especially not sweet Tess. Tess barked again, and Layla let out another screech. I sighed, trying to calm my racing heart. For a moment, I thought something terrible had happened.

"Layla, you're holding her ball. She thinks you're playing with her," I explained, stepping closer. Layla's eyes widened in horror as she edged further into the counter. "What ball?" she asked, clearly terrified. "Why are you coming closer? Just shoo her away!" she motioned for Tess to leave, but Tess only barked more.

"This ball," I said, taking her hand and gently prying the ball from her death grip. I tossed it out of the kitchen, and Tess eagerly ran after it. "That was hers? I thought it was some stress ball. Oh my god, ew, ew, ew!" she exclaimed, hopping off the counter, only to bump into my chest."Why are you so scared of dogs?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Because they're scary and big, and they could bite your head off! And their tongues are always hanging out—it's disgusting, and now it's all over my hand," she shuddered in disgust and hurried to the sink.

As she scrubbed her hands with soap, I caught a whiff of her scent—fruity, with a hint of rose and something musky. She was in her pajamas, I realized. Everyone had gone to sleep a few hours ago, which was why her scream had scared me so much. She wore a satin pajama set, the first two buttons of her blouse undone, and though it might sound pervy, I couldn't help but stare.

She wasn't wearing a bra, and she looked so good. Her body was new to me- it's one that I wanted to spend days learning. Her wide hips, narrow waist, busty chest, and round ass. That sweet neck of hers and those pink, glossy lips. My pants strained as the urge to grab her and do unholy things in the middle of the night grew stronger. Jesus, what am I even thinking? I need to get laid as soon as possible.

"She's back!" Layla's whine pulled me from my thoughts, though it did nothing to help my situation. She pointed at Tess, who had returned with the ball between her teeth. "She just wants to play. Trust me, she's harmless. She won't hurt you, right Tess? Aren't you my good girl?" Layla chuckled before adding, "It would've been sexy if you weren't talking to a dog."

I raised my eyebrows and stood up. "What's that supposed to mean? Are you calling me sexy, Ms. Issac?" I asked, slowly walking toward her. She sobered up, realizing her slip. "Because if you do find it sexy, I could try it out with you," I teased, stepping in front of her. The look of horror that crossed her face was priceless. "I didn't mean it like that!" she whisper-yelled.

"Then how did you mean it? You mean you'd find it sexy if I called you my good girl? Hm, Layla? Do you want to be my good girl?" I tucked a stubborn strand of hair behind her ear, delicately brushing her jaw with the back of my fingers. With my index finger, I lifted her chin.

"Mr. Morretti?" she breathed out.

"Yes, Layla?" I responded, my voice low.

I saw her eyes flicker to my lips for a moment before returning to my eyes. "Are you flirting with me, Mr. Morretti? Trying to take me to your bed?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at me. I couldn't help but smile. "Both? Neither? Whatever you want," I said, leaning forward, my mind fogged with an intense desire for this woman.

"What I want is for us to maintain professional. I don't know what wrong message I gave you, and it was never my intention, but I'm here for one thing and one thing only, and that's to do my job," she said, pushing me away before climbing down from the counter. "And to save us both the trouble, I'll go to sleep and pretend this never happened," she added, fixing her shirt before turning around and walking out of the kitchen, calm, composed, and confident, while I stood there, stunned.I wasn't embarrassed—just awestruck. The desire that had fogged my brain now consumed me completely. "What am I getting myself into, Tess?" I muttered, rubbing Tess's head as I switched off the light and walked out.