In the early afternoon, Layla went up to her bedroom and closed the door behind her, taking a deep breath as she walked over to her desk. Her phone was still there, untouched since she'd silenced it after the call with Colin.
When she picked it up and unlocked it, the first thing she noticed was that her battery was at ten percent. Then she saw the twenty missed calls from her parents and Colin, and even more texts. Instead of listening to any of the voicemails, or reading any of the messages, she went straight to her contacts and clicked the little green phone under her father's number.
He picked up on only the second ring. "Layla!"
"Hi, Dad." She fought to keep her tone light. This didn't have to be unpleasant, even if the anger still clung to her like barbed wire.
"Christ, you had us scared half to death. If we couldn't reach you today we were sending Colin out there to look for you."
"Well, that won't be necessary." She kept her gaze trained outside, on that wonderful, grounding view of the apple trees. In the back of her mind, she pictured Dawson working somewhere amongst them. "I just needed time to cool off."
Her mother's voice could be heard just slightly farther away. "You sure took your time doing so."
Her father gently scolded her, probably worried Layla would hang up again if they didn't handle this gently enough. In their eyes, they still had the power. They could still affect her, still have her spiraling into another meltdown. But Layla had a feeling she was about to turn that table, whether she wanted to or not.
"Are you alright?" he asked, voice laced with both concern and frustration. They were mad, and it was obvious. Unfortunately, she was about to make them a whole lot angrier.
"I'm alright. I figured it was time to call. Time to get all this sorted out."
"Well... Sweetie, I don't know that there's much to sort out. What Colin told you... it was a final decision."
She ignored the way that it burned, to have him not even give her a chance to change his mind. But she hadn't expected one. "I know. But that was a decision that you all made for the company. I called to discuss the decisions I'm making for myself."
"Layla, honey," her mom spoke again, voice lighter this time. "I'm not sure I'm following."
"I'm staying in Red View, at least until after the McAden-Clark wedding." It felt strange referring to it that way now, like it was something she was attending for business rather than choice.
"You're..." Her father trailed off, and she could picture him running a hand through his elegantly-greying hair, leaning back in his office chair the way he did when something wasn't going the way he pictured. "Now why would you want to do that?"
"Because I have more decisions to make, and I need time to think about them. Time away from home. I'm not sure Foster Fitness is what's right for me anymore." And because she wanted to see her friends get married. Because she wanted to spend more time with Dawson, no matter what the outcome.
"Layla!" Her name was a laugh as it came out of her mom's mouth. "Layla, listen. We understand if you're angry. But this is all sounding a bit dramatic. You don't have to put on a show for us to feel bad about what we did—we already do. So don't waste your time hanging out in the country just to prove a point."
"We need you here, Layla," he added.
"I'm not putting on a show." Fury bloomed inside of her at the accusation, her words biting now. "I mean it."
"What about Colin?" her mother questioned, using his name like it was the magic word that would send Layla sprinting back to New York.
"Colin isn't a factor," she said, putting it to them the same way she did to Dawson. "He doesn't love me, and I don't love him."
This time, the disbelieving laughter came from both of her parents. It was her father who spoke up again. "Don't be ridiculous. You're just angry with him for breaking the news about the boot camp to you. And he's crazy about you, you know that."
She didn't want to have to do it, but then, there was a part of her that relished in finally saying her next words. "Ask him about Theresa."
"Theresa?" Finally, there was a trace of worry in her mother's voice.
"Yes, Theresa. The girl who works the juice bar at our gym, Theresa. The woman he's been sleeping with for the past three months, Theresa."
She could practically hear her father leap forward in his chair. "Layla!"
"I'm only telling the truth, Dad. For a long time I thought it was none of your business, but maybe it is."
"Layla, sweetie, are you sure?" her mother cooed. "Can't you try to talk it through with him? See if you're jumping to conclusions? Think of the merger."
"Believe me, I have. But for once I want to think about myself. Maybe you won't believe me, but this isn't about Colin, it's got nothing to do with Colin. I'm not happy in New York. I'm lonely, and I'm bored, and I feel like I don't get to decide anything for myself. I don't like the customers we get. I don't like that all my ideas get snubbed out before they even get a chance to burn. If I'm going to fail, I want to fail. Does that make any sense to you, at all? I'm tired of not even having the chance to make a mistake."
She was rambling, she knew, and forced herself to stop. "Look. To put it as clearly as I can, this trip made me realize that I'm not getting what I want out of Foster Fitness anymore. I don't know if I want to go back to my old life. I'll be in touch when I've made up my mind, okay? I love you."
Before they could convince her not to, she hung up. If she didn't, her dying battery would do it soon enough anyway.
Guilt and freedom swarmed inside her, equal halves of a whole. With a deep inhale, she powered off her phone. She wouldn't let anything distract her from the decisions she needed to make. Not her parents, Colin, or even a random work email. For once, she had to discover what life was like without Foster Fitness.
There was a knock on her door just as she finished tucking her phone into her suitcase. Out of sight, out of mind. The less she was tempted to call them back to reconcile, the better. She couldn't let them convince her to go back on her word, and even though this felt like the right thing to do, she knew she had a bad habit of being convinced to do things that felt the opposite, instead.
When she opened the door, she came face to face with the one person who seemed dead set on making sure she didn't fall victim to that habit. A slow smile crawled across Dawson's face, eyes trained on hers.
"Hi," she greeted, surprised by the breathlessness of her own voice.
"Hi. You have plans tonight?" His voice was low and hushed, a sound that sent shivers up her spine.
"Plans?" Her heart leaped inside of her. Was he asking what it sounded like he was asking? "No. I don't think so. Why?"
"Because Jack's going out to dinner to schmooze with some new grocery store manager from the next town over, and Marshall's taking Kenzie to dinner in town. Which means it's just the two of us, tonight, and I was hoping you'd let me call it a date."
"I... okay," she was too caught off guard to disagree. A date. A date with Dawson. How could life change so much in just twenty-four hours?
He spared a quick glance down the hall, then leaned in to place a warm kiss against her cheek. "Meet me in the dining room at dinner time," he murmured, still close. "Don't worry about dressing up. Just wear something comfortable."
"Why?" she leaned back at the strange request, eyes narrowing.
In place of an answer, he moved forward and pressed their lips together. Her pulse danced, blood running hot even though it lasted only a second. "Let it be a surprise."
Since her last surprise had been that her program was getting the ax, she figured she could use a good one to wipe that memory away. She nodded, letting herself fall into a smile. "Okay."
At Dawson's request, Layla kept her outfit simple and comfortable: her favorite jeans and a plain, fitted white t-shirt under a knitted cardigan. She slipped on a pair of sandals before heading downstairs, stomach clutching with nerves.
Kenzie and Marshall had said goodbye about ten minutes earlier, and Layla'd heard Jack leave the house not too long before them. Being alone in the house with Dawson gave her an unexpected thrill—they could talk about their situation without any whispers. They could kiss without the fear of someone turning the corner and seeing them with their lips locked. They could go to bed together and let passion take over, not having to worry about being overheard.
At that thought, she nearly missed a step.
She wasn't sure what she was expecting to see when she walked into the dining room, but an empty table wasn't one of them. Then, she saw Dawson standing by the open doors to the terrace with a picnic basket in hand, and it all made sense. Wonderful, beautiful sense.
"A picnic," she said warmly, approaching him with a fresh wave of nerves. It was something she'd imagined, passing by couples in central park on patchwork blankets, surrounded by scattered food, laughing in the shade of the trees.
"A picnic," he confirmed, leading her outside. The orchard was painted in its usual evening glow, the sky a perfect mixture of pink and gold. They started down the path in comfortable silence, footsteps quiet under the rustling of the leaves.
"I talked to Kenzie and Marshall this morning, like I said. And right before you knocked on my door, I called my parents." Layla glanced up at him and he turned to her—not with surprise, she noted, but like he was proud of her. "Told them I'm not happy in New York. That I'm staying here for a while to figure out what I want."
He grinned as they neared the trees. "Good. That's good. How'd you feel?"
"A little guilty. But mostly relieved. And... right. I feel like I did the right thing, because I know I did. I owe it to myself to figure all this out. To really decide what's best for me."
"Well, if I don't screw this whole thing up somehow, maybe it'll make it easier for you to decide."
She laughed, following him into one of the rows. They walked all the way to the end, stopping just at the summit of the hill. In front of them was the rolling expanse of the land and the vast, colorful sky that sent Layla's heart flooding every time she looked at it.
"God. Do you ever get used to it?" she asked as he set down the basket, reaching inside for a checkered blanket. "Does it ever lose its magic?"
He shook it out, splaying it down in front of them. "Not yet. I wouldn't place any bets on it."
They sat, and he took out two wrapped up sandwiches from the basket, handing her one. "I took a guess—I hope you like it. It's from the new sandwich shop in town. I would've cooked, but pasta is my specialty, and I didn't think it'd work out too well as picnic food."
She smiled, shaking her head. "This is perfect."
"But you don't know what it is yet."
"It could be the nastiest sandwich I've ever had, and it'd still be perfect."
"Well then I guess I shouldn't have stood in there for half an hour looking at the menu." He laughed, and her heart sighed, not used to this vulnerable, almost nervous side of him. "I did bake, though. Apple fritters for dessert."
"I smelled them earlier," she said, mouth already watering. "I figured you were working, making something for the store."
"Well, that's what I told Kenzie. Thankfully she didn't notice there was only one batch."
Layla smiled, but sighed as she unwrapped her sandwich. "I hate the lying. I hate that I'm making you lie. Maybe I didn't see it that way before, but I do now. Now that we're..."
"Involved," he finished for her. "How about we just forget all that right now? We've got good food. A sunset. The stars'll be out soon."
She nodded, embarrassed that she brought it up. This was supposed to be romantic, not a time to talk about her guilty conscience.
"And--" He reached into the basket, bringing out a bottle of wine. "I almost went with sparkling cider, but thought you might be getting tired of apples. Hope you like red."
"I love it," she said, watching him pull out two glasses and a bottle opener. "You said these are from a new place in Red View?"
"Mmm-hmm. Just opened last month or so," he answered as he opened the bottle. "The place is packed almost all day. We need more takeout businesses here, so it's no surprise it's doing well." With a glance at her, he started to pour. "Kind of like how we need a gym. But given that this is a date, I won't talk about that."
She laughed, accepting the glass he offered her. "You don't think it's strange, us on a date?"
"What's strange about it? I hope I made it clear last night that I'm interested in you, Layla." He gave her a crooked smile as they clinked glasses. "But if not, I'd be happy to try again."
"As much as I'd be glad to refresh my memory on just how well you got that message across, that's not exactly what I meant."
He smirked, but there was a solemn acceptance in his eyes. "You mean that when two people go on a date, usually neither of them is engaged."
"Something like that."
"If it makes you more comfortable, we could call it something else. Maybe we're just two friends having dinner together outside."
"Is that what we are? Friends?" She watched his gaze fall to her mouth. "I guess after last night I assumed we were something... more."
"Good," he said, looking back into eyes. "So we're on the same page, then."
She felt the heat rush to her face, even as she smiled. How did he do that? How did he get her to talk in circles and say exactly the things she was too scared to admit on her own?
"Let's just pretend it doesn't exist, Layla. Any of it. Let's pretend I've already gotten you to change your mind, and all we have to talk about is each other."
"Okay." Her voice was softer than she'd heard it before. "No business talk. No talking about our... unusual situation."
So instead, they talked about everything else. Music, films, how they liked their coffee. Layla really did hate her sandwich, and it didn't matter—still, Dawson made her switch when he noticed she wasn't eating it. Somewhere between her story of a childhood vacation to Bermuda and his tale of a college prank gone wrong, the sun went down and the two of them laid side by side, staring up at the stars.
Dawson's voice was a soft murmur next to her. "In twenty-seven years, you'd think I'd've learned one constellation to impress you with."
"You've impressed me, Dawson." She propped her head up with one arm. "Believe me."
He stared up at her with those warm, dark eyes, the night sky shining in his irises. The quiet sound of his voice sent a wave of both thrill and comfort over her as he suggested, "Let's go inside, Layla."
And because she knew what he meant, because she wanted it too, she nodded with a sigh of pure serenity. "Okay."
I can't believe it's almost the last week of april 😵💫 have you guys been doing camp nano? I am SUPER behind on my goal lol 😅😅