Sunday morning, I lie in my bed, look at the ceiling.
There are too many hours in the day ahead.
What the hell am I supposed to do?
Haven't decluttered for a while...
Closets, drawers, cabinets. I can take everything out, wipe them down. Toss what I don't need, re-organize the rest.
Hour later, I'm on the floor in front of the hallway closet, rummaging through junk when my phone rings.
"Hey Layla, it's Shushan. How's everything going?"
I freeze. My mind goes blank before it splits.
I like her. She's sweet and genuine.
But I only met her because of him.
Has any of it been real? Who really is she?
"I'm good, thank you. You?"
Does she know? What does she want from me?
"I'm good... are you sure you're okay?"
So she knows.
What does she expect, that I'll tell her my life story? That I'll confide in her about her fiancé's best friend? The guy that's like family?
"Yeah, I'm fine."
Text bubbles appear then stop a couple of times. I lock the screen and go back to cleaning. It rings again, about seven minutes later.
"I know we haven't know each other for a long time, but I really connected with you and I know something is wrong, because Lucas was sleeping on the couch when I came to Lev's this morning. Now he's awake and he doesn't look okay. Which means that you're not okay. And I just wanted you to know, that you have a friend and I'm here if you need anything."
The image of Lucas hungover on Lev's couch is so grim and dramatic, it's almost comical. Is he pitying himself? Throwing a tantrum? Making other people care for him?
What happened to the calm guy who's always in control? Where's the guy who didn't care about anything? Who is this acting for?
I re-read her text message and try to listen to my gut. Can I trust her? What's her motive? Is she just reaching out because she's all alone? Because her fiancé is also controlling? Does she think it's okay?
"Thank you for checking in, I appreciate it. I'm okay though."
She replies right away. "If you change your mind, I've available all day today. We could go to the park and have some coffee. Or tomorrow. Just know that I'm here. I hope you take care."
I sink with guilt that she might actually mean it and here I am being so cold towards her.
She doesn't deserve it.
This is between me and Lucas. I'm so angry at myself that I don't respond. Not now. I can't.
Around noon, Lucas calls two times. I don't pick up.
Then calls again around five. Six. Eight. Ten. I turn my phone off after that and watch movies until my eyes burn.
I email Grant Monday morning and tell him that I need the day off and that I'll only be coming for the meeting then I'll leave.
Dozens of scenarios play in my head of what I'll do if I run into Lucas.
1. Ignore him and walk past him.
2. Stay calm if he tries to talk to me.
3. Stare coldly if he insists.
4. Raise my voice if he touches me.
5. Remember he's a liar if he looks at me softly.
6. Stay strong if he gets angry.
7. Shut my heart if he gets mean.
8. Smile and make small talk with others if he's the one who ignores me.
9. Act unbothered if he talks professionally.
"Lucas is not here." Gia says as soon as I walk through the doors, making me frown.
"Were you just here, waiting for me?"
"Yeah..." She looks away uncomfortably. "I thought you'd be coming back on Friday, because he told me he'll be gone and that if I see you, to tell you that he's not here." She meets my eyes as if she's afraid of my reaction. "Then he texted this morning, saying you'll be here at this time."
"Okay..." I shift from one foot to another. "Thanks for... telling me, I guess."
"Layla, are you okay?" She asks right away, taking me by surprise. "I don't know what's going on, I don't mean to pry in your business. But... I'm just worried."
I nod a little. "Yeah, Gia... I'm fine."
Her eyes look sad, like she knows I'm lying. I try to put on a smile and sound reassuring.
"I'm late to a meeting. I'll talk to you later?"
"Okay..." She murmurs behind me as I walk down the hall into Grant's office. Some employees from the side offices lift their heads as if they've been waiting for me.
What the hell happened here on Friday?
Beats me. Not like I'm respected enough to be in the loop.
"Grant?" I knock on his door and he looks up from his paperwork.
~
When I leave his office, I stop by mine briefly and am stuck like a deer in the headlights when I see who's in front of me.
"Hi, honey..." Fiona fidgets with her hands and takes light steps towards me. She looks lovely in a lavender dress. Hair blown in soft waves with minimal makeup and kind eyes.
"Fiona..." I breathe, unable to hide the surprise from my face. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, I just needed to talk to Grant about something." She smiles a little, looking at me like she's known me for years. "But I was also hoping to run into you." My heart squeezes tightly. "Would you like to go get coffee with me?"
"Uh..." My chest rises up and down with panic. I don't want to. Not at all. No. "I'm sorry, I need to go get ready. I have plans with my dad in a little bit."
"Oh, that's nice." She offers happily. It stirs me with unease. It's as if she knows it's a rare event for me. "Well... can I please steal only thirty minutes of your time then?" She smiles as if she won't hold it against me if I refuse. "There's a shop down the street that I really like. They have strawberry cake and mochi ice cream, I don't know." She chuckles so elegantly. "It's my treat."
For some reason, some of the chaos calms inside. The chains loosen just a little.
She's incredible.
"Okay..."
~
"I used to come here every week, a couple of years ago, when Grant only had a small office and was learning how to make his first website." She remembers with fondness, spooning a scoop of tiramisu.
"I've never been..." I note half-heartedly, not really in the mood for a history lesson about Grant's amazing success. "I didn't get out of the office much to explore the area."
"I've always heard about you." She says, eyes sparkling at me. "He'd talk about this young... ruthlessly ambitious, young lady who'd keep everyone on their toes." She smiles, chuckling. "I never realized it would be someone like you."
"Someone like me?"
"You're very... " She drums her delicate fingers on the patio table. The tap of her nails soft against the traffic noise next to us. "How do I say this, you're very... pure."
"Pure?" I repeat with humor. I'm the farthest thing from pure. If only she knew—
"Pure in a sense that..." She sighs and looks away in thought. Even the wrinkle between her eyebrows is elegant. "You've... you've been alone and... and misunderstood for maybe your whole life..." She looks into my scared eyes and speaks more firmly. "But you haven't let it break you."
I hold my breath, tears surfacing to my eyes.
Images of my dad from when I was a child — in the kitchen, in the garden, in the living room — flash in my head.
Laughing with me, then switching to hostility.
Giving his full attention, then rolling his eyes.
Deep voice chuckling as I'd act all goofy, then snapping and criticizing for acting all goofy.
Praising my cooking, then saying he's late. Can't eat in the car, he'll just buy something.
"It's hard for someone like that to be in such a business." She continues. "People say that what I do is difficult, but I disagree. I'm with people all day, talking honestly, connecting on a deep level." She narrows her eyes at me as if she sees my pain. "Your job is basically the opposite. You have to hide how you feel. You have to persuade people to buy something they don't need."
"Does Grant know you feel like that?" I tease to ease the awkwardness I feel.
"Yes." She says bluntly then laughs, making me laugh too. "I've told him. I think what they do is... is impressive, but." She shrugs a friendly shoulder, leaning close. "I think he oversells the meaningful aspect of it."
"Well... I can't say I disagree." I take a deep breath, taking a bite of my mochi. "It's not very fulfilling."
"But it didn't stop you from giving it your all." She tilts her head. "It almost reminds me of someone..."
The dreadful reason of why we know each other to begin with creeps in, souring my mood. She watches me carefully, noticing the change.
"Don't worry." She says quietly, looking down. "I'm not here to defend what my son did." She looks up under her lashes, playfulness coloring her brown eyes. "That's his problem."
I hold back my amusement, narrowing my eyes skeptically.
"I know, it doesn't make sense." She leans back, tilting her chin with pride. "He's my son. I love him. I'll love him no matter what he does. But..." She comes forward and looks me straight in the eyes. "But I will not fix his problems for him. That's his job."
My heart swells a thousand times and I swallow the lump in my throat. Fiona's eyes soften and she looks at me with so much love.
"From the moment I met you, I thought you're incredible." She murmurs, crossing her arms on the table. "I just... got this... effortless yet odd urge to be there for you, listen to you, and just... love you." Her smile widens. "It's like I could see the innocent child in you, focusing so hard to make us latte art." She mimics me when I was trying to pour the milk with intense concentration, making me chuckle.
She laughs, her voice full of unreserved comfort and joy. "It reminded me... so much of what my life used to be like... many years ago. When Danny was alive, happily making something for us in the kitchen."
I'm going to cry. Her eyes tear up too.
"And... and I just." She takes a deep breath. Her throat bobs as she swallows and collects herself, voice quieter. "I just really... really wanted to thank you... from the bottom of my heart... for doing what you did for Lucas."
Images of me throwing myself against his restaurant, fighting for him to let me in. Him opening the door as I crashed into his arms. Him falling on the ground as I held him and told him he's okay. Him crying as he watched his dad's video, holding on to me as tight as he could until we slept in each other's arms.
"You've been such..." Her voice breaks like a delicate instrument, her translucent skin trembles but she tries to keep her eyes on me. "You've been life-changing. For me. And for him. For many of us. And... and I'm really...really disappointed in my son for hurting you."
"It's not..." I fold my arms around myself, covering my neck with one hand. "It's not your fault—"
"I know." She cuts me off, closing her eyes for a moment. "I know. But I still apologize." She doesn't take her gaze off of me. "I could've done better, tried harder, seen clearer. I knew he's been struggling, but I didn't think it'd stoop to a level of doing something like that."
I shake my head, growing more uncomfortable with this. I break her eye contact and frown at my ice cream. "I don't want to talk about it."
"You're right. I'm sorry." She reaches her hand and puts it on top of mine, making me look at her. She gives it a squeeze with an affectionate smile. "I just need you to know something."
"What?" I say with a small voice, afraid.
She takes my hand in both of hers, holding me like it doesn't matter whether I'll hold her back. Looking at me with so much warmth, like it won't stop pouring even if I don't reciprocate.
"Before I'm a mother, I'm my own person. I'm a woman, a friend, a professional, a sister." She gives me a moment to take it in until I nod. "And when I love someone, I love them whole-heartedly." She looks down at my hand like she's holding a child. "And I love you." She stares at me and smiles. "I loved you before you helped Lucas. And I loved you even more after. And now..." She laughs with ease. "Now I need to pour that love and shower you with it."
Tears stream down for too many reasons to comprehend. My mind disconnects. Becomes irrelevant.
Something else comes forward. So vulnerable and fragile that I can't hold my head up.
I curl into myself and block everything. The world, the sounds, myself. I can't.
She wraps her arms around me and rubs my back, I sob into her neck uncontrollably.
I can't. I can't stop. I need this. I want this.
I want this so bad. And I hate how much... how much it hurts to have it... a sliver... a chance... a moment. To be... wanted and fought for.
I'm so afraid of it.
"I'll always be here whenever you need me." She brushes my hair, voice calm and firm like I can cry my heart out and she won't be scared. "You can always count on me. You're not alone. Okay?"
I nod and whimper at the same time, worried if I hold her any tighter I might break her. I forget we're in broad daylight with strangers around and pull back. Wipe my face and look away.
"I'm sorry..."
She hands me a tissue from the table. "Don't be sorry. You're going through so much... you're so strong for being here. For agreeing to come out with me and talk to me."
I chuckle bitterly. "I can't say no to you for some reason."
She smiles at that. "I feel the same way, honey."
~ A/N ~
You know me, I don't believe in romantic love fixing everything. I think the pain we hide runs deep and Layla needs to focus on that. Hope you're excited for the next chapter!