Chapter 11

Since the food truck is closed for another day, I get my new apartment in order. Margot and I don't have a lot of stuff. The closet is filled with my clothes, and Margot's are all piled into a little dresser in the bottom of the closet. She has almost as much as me thanks to a doting grandma and three honorary aunts in Mila, Court, and Court's aunt Sophie. I don't have any of my own furniture, besides the rocker recliner Landon insisted I take. But it's not here yet, so the apartment looks bare. I've been scouring Facebook sale groups and found a small kitchen table that will be perfect for the space, and the seller is even willing to drop it by the apartment tomorrow for an extra ten dollars since he'll be in the neighborhood for work.

I sit on my bed and stare happily at the space around me while Margot naps in the little corner I've created for her small crib. It's a foldable one that my mom bought me when she was born. It packs up and had a bassinet attachment, so it's perfect for the small space we live in. She doesn't need a crib, but I have kept my eye out on the sale groups for the kind that can turn into a toddler bed once she's bigger. I have a couple of pretty floral screens that I found before we moved here to create a "room" for her.

But it's our space, and small as it is, and as devoid of furniture as it is right now, I'm proud of it. When I had Margot, I promised myself I was going to make sure she never missed out on the fact that her father is a movie star and yet she's not growing up with the privileges she should have. I could ask for child support, but a part of me is scared he'll want custody. He has a much better job than me. He makes so much more, and he could provide for her so much better.

I shove the thoughts away. I don't like them ruining my little celebration of what I've accomplished for us.

The thoughts do remind me of Lincoln and how he gently prodded about why I'm not acting. I'm a better actor than the Unmentionable. He got the Phantom Hex because he's charming and has that classic Hollywood leading guy look. Yeah, he has millions of fans swooning over him on social media, but I have hundreds of TikToks shipping my TV show character with Detective Leclair, and I only appeared in four episodes. That's something.

But being an actor means hustling in a way I don't have time for. It means spending days on auditions and then not getting parts and not getting paid. And I can't haul Margot around with me to those. I know that any number of my family and friends would be happy to help with her if acting is what I want to pursue, but I just can't bring myself to ask them for that.

The videos I make will have to be enough.

For now …?

Maybe. Maybe when Margot's in school or something I can think about trying acting again. But still, when I am successful, I could end up on sets across the country. In different countries! I'll have to choose between hauling my child all over the place for my job or missing out on her life for weeks and months at a time. That's not the life I promised I would give her, but trying to put away that dream forever doesn't feel doable either.

Since I'm unpacked, I get ready for the big double date at my house. I feel like celebrating my independence day a little bit more, so I go all out with my hair and makeup, using all the tips and tricks I learned on sets. I keep my outfit simple, since the restaurant we're going to is casual—burgers and stuff but a little more upscale—but I make sure it's still striking. Comfy but still sleek-looking faux leather leggings and a fitted black lace top that hits me mid-thigh. I throw the heels I want to wear in Margot's diaper bag and put on a pair of tennis shoes, then we set out for Landon's apartment, where he and Mila are going to watch Margot while I'm out tonight. I grin as we walk. This friend date with Lincoln is the perfect way to celebrate my independence day.

"Ooooo, gimme gimme." Mila makes grabby hands as soon as she opens the door of Landon's apartment. I barely have the stroller through the door before she unbuckles Margot and assaults my daughter with kisses on her cheek.

To be fair, they are adorable chubby cheeks that deserve kissing at every opportunity. I had to wash her face off and redo my lipstick right before we left the house.

"You have an addiction," I say.

She has her face pressed against Margot's cheek, and Margot is giggling over it. "There are worse things to be addicted to," Mila sighs.

Landon has come over to join Mila and Margot now, making faces at Margot. These two are not going to wait very long to have kids. That's obvious.

"Any word on the cookie?" I ask.

Landon shakes his head. "Dillon said he should have some results for us in the morning."

"Your fans," I say to Mila, "while supportive of the ‘personal' time you need to take, are bordering on riots."

She smiles. "I guess that's nice to hear. I already threw out all the perishable stuff anyway. We could probably open tomorrow, but I want to be sure it's not the flour or sugar or something either." The way she bites her lip says she hopes she doesn't have to throw out everything. She has a lot invested in even the little things like extracts. And even though she's already paid Eli back most of his initial investment, I know she hates the idea of wasting any of the money that he gave her to start her business.

"I don't blame you." I pat her on the shoulder and move to sit on Landon's couch while I wait for Lincoln.

"Are you doing okay?" Landon asks, turning away from Margot long enough to eye me. "I know you use your tips for extra groceries?—"

I hold up a hand. "I'm fine. I picked up a few extra online jobs," I assure him. It's funny—since telling Lincoln that I do the videos, it feels weird to lie to Mila and Landon about them. But there's something holding me back from admitting I'm making videos. Data entry just seems more normal.

There's a knock on the door, and my heart skips a beat. That's dumb. This isn't an actual date. It's just me and Lincoln meeting up with Astrid and Zane Dalton to make sure they don't feel stupid on their first date.

I must be excited to get out and do something fun. Landon and Mila make sure I'm invited to pretty much everything they do, so I do barbecues and dinner with them and stuff. That's almost always family-type stuff. This is different. It's a date, but then again, it's not. I wave all of that away and hop up to answer the door.

"Hey," I say, smiling when I see Lincoln. He looks good. My smile grows. He's wearing a pair of dark gray pants and a lightweight navy sweater. He has on tennis shoes with the outfit, but they're nice Nikes and somehow the whole thing just works well. Also, he smells amazing. It's an orange and vanilla scent but more woodsy. I catch myself leaning a little toward him and straighten up. I clear my throat. "Come on in."

He steps inside, hands in his pockets. "You look great," he says. His voice sounds tight, like it did that night at Eli's, when I could tell talking with me wasn't easy. "Well, you always look great. I don't want to imply that if you don't dress up?—"

"Hey, Linc!" Landon says, coming up behind me. "Good to see you." He holds out a hand, which Lincoln shakes, and I swallow a laugh at how Landon saved Lincoln from himself.

"Hey," Lincoln says. He greets Landon and then clears his throat and looks back at me. "Are you ready? Dalton just texted me that he's at Astrid's, picking her up, so we should get to the restaurant about the same time."

"Yep." I grab my clutch from inside the diaper bag and head over to the couch, where Mila is playing with Margot. "Bye-bye, sweet girl," I say softly, leaning over to make my own assault of kisses on her cheeks. Gosh, her skin is so soft and perfect, and since she had a bath before coming over, she smells just like babies should—clean and fresh with a light lavender scent. Mm-mm.

When I look up at Lincoln, he stares at me, a soft expression on his face, and my heart does that little skip again. He glances back to Landon, and I tell my heart to knock it off. Lincoln Knight might be sweet and good-looking, but I am not dating.

Even if I'm going on a date with him right now.

But not a real date. We both know we're just friends.

Lincoln opens the door when I cross the room, and his hand skims across my back as we walk out and he guides me. A full shiver runs through me at the warmth of his hands.

Layla, girl, pull yourself together. It's just that it's been a long time since I went out with a guy, even if this is a fake date. Mr. Big-Headed was the last person I dated, and I thought for too long while I was pregnant that he was going to figure us out. That he loved me. That he'd come back after he was done filming the Phantom Hex remake and we'd get back together and have our happily ever after.

Then I realized he's an idiot and I had Margot and decided dating just wasn't for me. And Lincoln's very brief touch just made me miss that companionship. That's all.

"How's unpacking going?" Lincoln asks as we head downstairs to his Bronco. He's stuffed his hands into his pockets, and it makes his biceps stand out in the fitted sweater.

I think my first date—fake date or friendly date or … whatever—in over a year should maybe not have been with someone as gorgeous as Lincoln Knight.

"Um …" I scramble to gather my thoughts on what he asked. Oh! My apartment. "It's going good. Yeah, I'm almost done. I don't have very much." I give a shrug. "So it's not going to take very long."

Lincoln nods multiple times and then abruptly stops. "So, speaking of your apartment … I have a couch in my family room I've been meaning to give away. It's small, and my mom says it doesn't work in the space. You want it?"

He says everything so fast, and despite how great he looks right now, his nerves remind me that he's my sweet friend. I relax.

"That's really nice of you Lincoln." I bump into him as we step out onto the sidewalk. "Thanks. I'd love it."

"Mark Travis has a truck," he says.

"Yeah, he and Eli are bringing over the rocker recliner tomorrow night."

"Oh yeah, right. I'll ask him if we can bring the couch over next week sometime?" His words come out slower, and lightness bubbles in me to think that my settling in has calmed him too.

"Perfect." We've reached his Bronco, and he pulls open the passenger door for me. I slide in and then take the few seconds while he closes it and walks around to the driver's side to take a long, deep breath.

"So," I say once he's gotten into the car, "what does Lincoln Knight do in his spare time?" I want to keep the conversation chill since that will help Lincoln.

He gives a short laugh. "During the season there's not much of that, so it's pretty lame. Hanging out with guys from the team sometimes, mostly Eli lately, sometimes playing video games, sometimes watching TV. I … uh … I've kind of gotten into LA Lights."

"I love that show," I say, smirking at him.

"I thought you were great." He doesn't look at me while he says it. "Although it was kind of annoying that you were wearing Hurley's number in that one scene."

Laughter bursts out of me. "I didn't even notice whose name was on the back. I didn't know Mila that well back then, and I didn't know Eli at all, so I didn't pay a whole lot of attention to the Rays." I give him an apologetic look.

"I'll let it go then, I guess," he teases.

"And what about when it's the off season?" I ask.

"I go out east and spend time with my parents. We like to camp together or take educational day trips. Or my mom does, and Dad and I like to go with her. For the educational trips."

That's so sweet. I have to quickly come up with another question so I don't dwell on it. "What's been your favorite educational day trip?" I ask.

"This one was actually a weekend thing, but we went down to North Carolina and toured the Biltmore mansion, stayed there and everything. It was very cool." He's focusing on the traffic right now, but his expression is happy and content.

I've never heard of Biltmore—although I'll go look it up tonight—but my mind slips into a little daydream of wandering around a quirky little museum with Lincoln, his hand brushing my back every so often the way it did back at Landon's apartment. Holding hands. Slipping into an unused corner and Lincoln lowering his lips to mine, hands gripped on my hips and holding me close to him?—

"Layla?" His voice yanks me from the crazy thoughts, and I whirl to look at him.

"Hmmm?" My neck and cheeks are on fire right now, and I'm desperately trying to rid my brain of that image of kissing him.

"Everything okay? You zoned out a bit. Did Margot keep you up in the new place? She's probably going to take a second to adjust."

I wave it away, his excuses just increasing the blush. Thankfully, it's dim in the car, and maybe he can't see it. "Um, she was fine." I shrug. I can't think of another explanation, so hopefully Lincoln just lets it go.

"What about you? Do you have any free time?" he asks. I think this must be what he asked before and I didn't hear him while I was—I put a stop to even thinking about what I was doing and repeating any of those images.

"A little. But right now, I'm kind of lame too. I like to watch old sitcoms and figure out what works with them, you know? What makes people laugh and what's just awkward without a laugh track. I have a notebook full of notes about stuff." Except for that one episode of Friends I watched the other day, it's been a few weeks since I was able to watch those shows. Every spare minute I can, I've been making videos for my clients, and the last couple weeks I've been getting ready to move.

"Does that make you miss acting?" Lincoln asks, turning to glance at me for a moment.

The heat rises in my face again as I remember telling Lincoln last night about making the videos and how he was so genuine in trying to support my little bit of acting. That same genuineness tugs at his expression now.

"Yeah." I chuckle to myself, thinking of the way I've reenacted scenes to my little audience of Margot, getting timing down, practicing the rhythm of my words and my tone.

He shakes his head. "You deserve to be as famous as him. More famous than him." There's a growl to Lincoln's voice that has my stomach flipping over. He's obviously loyal. The way he came straight to Mila about the cookies that made his friends sick, and how he must have convinced them to protect her—that says so much. I mean, the man comes to her bakery truck every day no matter where it's parked. He's dedicated to her truck being a success. Maybe that's at the urging of Eli, but he wouldn't ask someone to come every day.

The idea that he's moved that same loyalty into our friendship is a little bit exhilarating. And it's going to make me want more if I'm not careful. I remind myself that I have a strict no-dating policy, and it's not a good idea to fall for a guy like Lincoln. Famous football player? That's way too close to my last crash and burn for me to be comfortable even entertaining the idea. He could get traded to another team, take a bigger contract, and flit away to a new life just as easily as The Badfather.

"I agree," I say, making my own voice light so I don't examine Lincoln's motives any closer. "Maybe someday." I shrug at him.

We pull up to the restaurant, and Lincoln parks at the valet station, coming around to get my door before the valet can. He hands over his keys and then slips his hand on my back again, gently guiding me to the door of the restaurant.

I know how to act like I'm the stunning girlfriend of a power player who confidently strides into a restaurant with a valet station, but I've never done this in real life. It makes me a little bit giddy, like it's a part I'm playing.

As we approach the hostess's stand, I catch a glimpse of someone at one of the nearby tables snapping a picture with their phone. As the hostess leads us to our table, where we're told Zane Dalton and Astrid are already waiting, I lean into Lincoln. I know that's what anyone watching us wants to see, but I also don't want anyone to overhear me.

"What are you going to say when pictures show up of us together and people think we're dating?" I whisper. I try not to smile to think about the pictures and the gossip headlines that might accompany them. Like if they used words like, Rays player Lincoln Knight seen with actress Layla Delaford.

I shake that away. No one's going to know me. I don't even get mentions as You Know Who's ex.

Lincoln swallows. "I'll deny it, of course. Insist we're just friends." His gaze darts across my face, his nerves back.

I put a hand on his arm and stop him just before we reach the table. "Linc, I don't care what gossip sites say about us. I made my peace long ago that if I was going to be an actress, no publicity was bad publicity. It doesn't matter." I squeeze his arm to make sure he knows I'm serious.

He relaxes. "I don't want you thinking I'd use you for publicity or something."

"I would never think that about you. I know better." I squeeze his arm again and then move ahead of him to greet Astrid, who hops up as soon as she sees me.

"Layla, you're here." She throws her arms around me to hug me, and I hug her back, startled.

"Everything okay?" I whisper. My mom instincts always kick in hard around Astrid though I can't explain it. Maybe because I see too much of my naivete in her and I want to save her from the stupid mistakes I made. Especially with Jack-in-the-box.

"I'll tell you later," she whispers back, and then she pulls away.

Zane stands behind her, and he smiles at me when Astrid steps away. "You must be Layla," he says. His voice is scratchy, but his grin makes me automatically smile back. I can see why he and Lincoln are friends. He has an air of friendliness about him. "I'm Zane." He takes my hand in his but then leans down and leaves a light kiss on my cheek. I love it. This poshness is so the vibe I'm going for on my night on the town.

Also, Zane Dalton is possibly the largest human being I've ever encountered. Like if a human were the size of a bear. Well, what I imagine a bear's size must be. Lincoln is tall, but as I step aside and the two shake hands and slap backs, I see that Zane is even taller. Plus, he's maybe twice as wide. Football players look like one thing on TV, and then in real life it's a whole other thing. They're massive, and being around Lincoln hasn't gotten me used to his size.

Another daydream pops up, unbidden: Lincoln enveloping me in a hug. Heat whooshes through me. It's so simple, but my insides sizzle at the idea.

We sit down, and conversation moves easily. Well, for me, Lincoln, and Zane. I notice that Astrid is mostly smiling and saying "uh-huh" or "mmmm." I shoot her a questioning look, but she just shakes her head.

But Zane is very attentive to her. He spends a few minutes asking her about foods she likes before recommending something on the menu that he loves that he thinks she'd enjoy based on what she says. I share a look with Lincoln, silently congratulating him on such a good pick. He returns the look with a small smile.

While we're waiting on dessert, Astrid stands up and looks at me meaningfully. "Layla, come check out the view from their deck with me."

I stand up. "We'll be right back," I say to Lincoln, and he nods, turning the subject to football for the first time as Astrid and I are walking away.

We step onto the wooden deck that looks out toward the ocean. I'd never heard of this place when Lincoln said he wanted to come, but it's low-key amazing. They've hit all the right LA notes without being over the top. The simple, elegant décor in the restaurant and the prime location where we can hear the waves lapping up on the shore. It's casual, but it's not all at the same time, and I love the atmosphere.

"What's going on, Astrid?" I ask when we're leaning against a railing. People are scattered across the deck with drinks in hand, but no one pays us any attention. Not without the hulking football players next to us.

"Kipp is really upset with me," she blurts. She's wringing her hands in front of her.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I know all about guys like Kipp Avery. Mr. Too-Big-For-His-Breeches played games like this too, getting all "jealous" over something stupid.

I reach out and take Astrid's hands, just to calm her a little. "About what?"

"About me blowing off drinks with him. He texted right as we got to the restaurant and asked if I was ready to meet him, and I told him I was out with Zane, and he's called, like, five times, but I told him I couldn't answer, of course, because that would be rude, but he sent me a text asking why I was going out with someone else?—"

I stop her run-on-sentence monologue by asking, "Have you and Kipp talked about not dating other people?"

She shakes her head. "No. Of course not. I never would've gone out with Zane if we had."

I eye her. "This is a red flag, Astrid. He can't expect something of you that he hasn't talked to you about."

Her eyes widen. "Red flag?"

"Well, it's at least yellow." I squeeze her hands. "Wait until you get home tonight and then call him and calmly explain. If he tries to put any of this on you, hang up. Got it?"

She draws in a deep breath. "Yeah, I can do that."

"I've dated his type a million times. They get one big part and they think they're everything." I hook her arm through mine and head back into the restaurant. From the window, I see that our waiter has delivered my lavender-lemon cheesecake, and while I want to help Astrid, I'm not sacrificing my big night out over worries about Kipp.

When we get back to the table, Lincoln puts his arm across the back of my chair and leans close in what I know is going to be a picture that lights up the internet. And it kind of makes me excited to think so.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

"Totally fine." I pat his knee in a promise to tell him later and then snatch my hand back as I realize how coupley that is. I can't get lost in these moments too much. It might be fun to watch everyone speculate about me and Lincoln, but I have to be careful about liking it so much I want to live it.

It's just that Lincoln's answering smile makes falling into this moment hard to resist.

I think of Margot, and I think of the look on Back-Stabbing Jack's face when I suggested we make a go of things for our baby, and reality claims me quickly. That's exactly what I need.

Lincoln:I am so sorry. It's way worse than I thought. I should have thought about that when I suggested we double. Or when I suggested that restaurant.

Layla: Honestly, Lincoln. It's fine. They're cute pictures.

Lincoln:You don't care that people think we're dating?

Layla: Should I be embarrassed? *winking emoji*

Lincoln:Probably.

Layla:I don't know. Most of these women commenters seem pretty ready to murder me out of jealousy. *thinking emoji*

Lincoln:*face-palm emoji*

Layla:I'm sure your agent has told you no publicity is bad publicity. I'm not worried.