Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Gray

I had stood before a judge and agreed to spend years locked up in a federal detention center, but I wasn’t as nervous then as I was walking down the street to meet Layla. Maybe it was because then I’d known that when I finally walked out, I’d be a free man again, ready to start over with a clean slate.

With Layla, though, I wasn’t so damn certain. If I blew it this time, there wouldn’t be another chance. And I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel free of her, even if she was done with me.

I arrived fifteen minutes early at the Starbucks around the corner from where I’d planned to take her and got both of us a coffee, another thing we’d never shared—a simple cup of fucking coffee—even though I knew exactly how she took it, because she’d written it in one of her letters.

She arrived right on time, and I stood next to the couch I’d made sure to grab because it was small and would mean we’d have to sit close.

“Hey.”

She looked as nervous as I felt. I leaned down and kissed her cheek. The smell of her skin had more of an effect on me than when I was a horny teenager and got to second base.

I’d told her to dress casual because of where we were going, but seeing her dressed in a pair of jeans, fitted pale blue T-shirt, and some sort of high-heeled sandal with ribbon tied around the ankle confirmed that my idea of what to do this afternoon was right for more than one reason. Her dark, wavy hair framed her beautiful face, and instead of the usual red lipstick, her beautiful mouth was its normal color, only glossier. But none of that mattered when I saw her nose.

I had to swallow to keep my eyes from tearing up like a goddamn pussy.

“Your freckles are back.”

She seemed flustered that I’d noticed and looked away. “I like to give my skin a break on the weekend. I’m going to grab some coffee. You want anything?”

I lifted the two tall cups from the table and extended one to her. “Blonde vanilla latte with extra vanilla syrup.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

My appointment wasn’t for another half an hour, so I motioned for her to take a seat. “We have a little time before we have to go.”

“Go? I thought we were where we were going. You said to meet you at Starbucks.”

“That’s right. Meet me at Starbucks. We have somewhere to go from here.”

“Where?”

I grinned. “That’s a secret.”

She bit her lip, a rare sign of nervousness, and sipped her coffee. I couldn’t help staring at her.

“You have to stop doing that?” she said.

“What?”

“Staring at me. It freaks me out.”

“All right.” I sat back into my chair and turned my head away from her. “So tell me what’s been going on over the last year.”

She elbowed me in the ribs playfully. “You know what I mean.”

I turned back to face her. “Yeah, I do. You want me to me act like you’re not all I think about, and that when I see you it doesn’t take every ounce of strength I have to keep from grabbing your hair and making you remember what our lips felt like pressed against each other.”

Layla took the slightest breath in, just shy of a gasp, but more than a regular inhale. She wanted to hide any effect I had on her. She looked away to break the moment before turning back, shaking her head.

“I made a list, you know.”

I sipped my coffee, knowing exactly what she meant. Everything needed to be thoroughly analyzed. “Lay it on me.”

“Pros,” she started and grinned. “Let me think. That was a much shorter list.”

“Easy now. I’m sure you’re just missing a few. That’s another reason we needed to spend some time together today. So I can help you balance that thing.”

“Maybe I’ll walk away with a whole bunch of new cons I hadn’t thought of after this.”

“You won’t.”

She rolled her eyes, yet smiled. “So cocky.”

I winked. “My cock definitely goes on the pro side.”

“That reminds me, I need to add pervert to the con side.”

I leaned closer. “Give me a chance to make good on the dirty things I say. You’ll move it to the pro side. I promise.”

“Will we ever have a normal conversation again?”

I smirked. “Again? Did we ever have a normal conversation?”

She sighed. “You have a point.”

“I’m just kidding. We did have good talks, Layla. You’re beautiful, but I’m not celibate after more than three years because I can’t meet a woman. We connected on a different level. I want you to give that a chance again.”

She nodded but didn’t look too convincing if she was saying yes.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you that you scare the shit out of me, too?”

Her lips parted, and she covered this time by bringing the coffee to her mouth.

I noticed a woman waiting for her coffee looking over at us and staring. Lifting my chin in her direction, I asked Layla. “Friend of yours?”

When she turned to look, her face and posture changed. It looked like she wanted to duck and hide under the seat. The woman waved, and Layla hesitantly waved back. “Shit.”

“Someone you don’t want to see?”

“It’s my half-sister.”

“From your father’s other…”

“Family. Yes.”

“She lives in New York?”

“She moved here a few months ago. And thinks we should be besties.”

I glanced over at the woman now walking toward us with her coffee. “Well, don’t look now, but your bestie is on her way over here.”

The woman had an irritatingly high-pitched voice. “Layla! I can’t believe I finally ran into you. I left you a few messages. I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”

“No. Just busy.” She pointed to me. “Even working weekends. I’m sort of in a client meeting.”

“Oh!” She looked at me, her interest piqued. “Lucky you.”

“But it was great seeing you.” Layla laid it on thick.

“You, too. I’m having dinner with Dad next weekend. You should join. He’d love to see you.”

Layla feigned disappointment like a champ. “Oh. Sorry. I’ll be out of town.”

The woman stuck out her bottom lip. “Okay. Well, I’ll let you get back to work.” She leaned down and went in for an awkward hug and air kiss. “I’ll call you!”

“You do that,” Layla said. “Take care.”

When she turned back around, her shoulders slumped. “I hope wherever you’re taking me, there’s alcohol.”

I looked at my watch. “It’s even better. You’ll love it. It will put a smile on your face and make you forget all about your crazy family. And you won’t have a hangover tomorrow.”

“I’m not sure I should trust you from the sound of that…”

I winked. “I like the way you’re thinking. But you can trust me.” I stood and held out my hand to help her up. “Ready to go?”

She looked at it for a few seconds, hesitating before placing her little hand in mine. Even though she let go after she stood—when I wanted to keep it—it felt like progress that she’d taken it at all.

Baby steps.

Progress.

We were quiet as we made our way out of the coffee shop and up the street. I was just about to let her in on where we were heading to cheer her up, when she surprised me by opening up on her own.

“She’s really nice. I feel bad that I don’t want anything to do with her. But I just can’t bring myself to spend time with her.”

“It’s understandable,” I said. “She’s a constant reminder of something that’s painful for you.”

“But why doesn’t it bother her? Shouldn’t she see me the same way I see her? Just the fact that she wants to be friends makes me feel like something’s wrong with me for not feeling the same way.”

“Not everyone handles painful things the same way.” I paused and thought about whether I should share the example I immediately thought of. Deciding maybe it would help my case, I did. “Look at what I did with Max. It could have been as simple as telling you I was married once and had it annulled when you asked. But I didn’t even want to admit to it. I was embarrassed, and I hadn’t done anything wrong. There’s probably a little bit of you that feels the same about what your dad did.”

She nodded. “Yeah. All these years and only Quinn knows the truth of my parents’ odd relationship. And if I’m being honest, I had never even planned to tell her. His flight home on my sixteenth birthday got canceled, and I was upset that he was going to be with his other family on my day. Quinn and I got drunk, and I wound up telling her everything. I’d known what was going on for years by then, but I’d never said a word.”

I looked over at her and nodded. “Forget the mistakes others make; just learn from them. That was one of Etta’s mantras growing up. It’s scary how appropriate it is for my life right now.”

We arrived at the building that housed the animal shelter, and I stopped. “We’re here.”

“Where?” She looked around, and her eyes lit up as they rose to the sign high on the tall brick building: New York City Animal Care. “We’re visiting dogs?”

“We can visit them all. But I’m here for one in particular. I adopted a dog, and today’s my appointment to pick him up.”

***

“Oh my God.” Layla landed flat on her ass and cracked up. Just like the first time I’d met Freckles, he’d acted shy and hesitant, sniffing her until he decided she was okay, and then he’d pounced and knocked her over to lick her face. This time I grabbed his collar, much like the volunteer had done when it was me.

“Relax, boy. Take it easy. I know she smells good, but you’re embarrassing the both of us. Plus, I might be a little jealous.”

Layla’s smile was wide as she rolled her eyes and let me help her up. She stayed crouched down next to me, as Freckles finally turned his attention my way.

“There you go. It’s about time you noticed I was here.”

She looked on as I scratched behind his ears and gave him a good two-hand rub.

“And here I assumed you were referring to the attention I was giving the dog when you said you were jealous,” Layla teased. “Now I’m not so sure. I think you might’ve been jealous of the dog giving me attention.”

“You let me lick your face, and I won’t even remember I have a dog.”

She laughed.

The volunteer had said the center’s Wi-Fi was down this morning, so they were a little behind in getting the adoption paperwork together. She’d suggested we hang out in the pet playroom while they worked on finalizing everything.

I would stay all day in this putrid-smelling room just to keep that smile on Layla’s face. She looked so carefree in the moment.

Freckles ran over and got his shoe. I guess that thing was coming home with me if he still hadn’t given it up. Layla took the shoe and pulled on one end while he happily pulled on the other.

“Is this what they’re using for toys now? Whatever the fee is for adopting him, I think you need to double your donation.”

God, that damn smile.

“It’s his previous owner’s. Sad story. He died…” I reached out and scratched the dog’s back while the two of them played tug-of-war. “And this little guy got himself into trouble in the house for a few days before anyone found them. That’s why he’s shaved. When I saw him yesterday, he was covered in glue and mud. But that shoe is his owner’s, and he seems to be attached to it.”

“Awww. Poor baby.” Layla released the shoe and scooped Freckles into her arms, snuggling him against her chest.

I could swear the dog looked back at me and grinned. Maybe I imagined it.

“I had a dog when I was little.”

“I know. That was the start of your yeahway lists. You got a mutt that you named Muffin the Mutt.”

She looked at me funny, her nose crinkling up. “You remember my dog’s name?”

“Too creepy?”

Her lip twitched. “Maybe a little.”

Ten minutes later, Carol, the volunteer who’d helped us when we came in, appeared in the doorway. “Looks like he’s taken a liking to the Mrs.”

I saw from my peripheral vision that Layla was about to correct her, so I beat her to the chase. “Can you blame him? Dog’s got good taste.”

I winked when my pretend wife gave me the evil eye.

“We’re all ready with the paperwork. Sorry about the wait. We just need you to sign a few forms, and you’ll be on your way.”

I lifted the dog from Layla’s arms and offered a hand to help her up.

“I’ll be right next door when you’re ready,” Carol said. She began to walk away and then turned back and pointed to the beat-up loafer on the floor. “Don’t forget Freckles’ shoe.”

Layla had been brushing the dog hair from her pants. Her head popped up. “What did she just say?”

“She said she’d be right next door when we’re ready.”

She narrowed her eyes. “After that.”

“She didn’t want us to forget his loafer.”

“Yes, and what did she call the dog?”

“By his name, of course.”

She playfully smacked my arm. “What’s the dog’s name, Westbrook?”

I grinned. “Freckles.”

“That was his name already or that’s what you named him?”

“I had nothing to do with it.” I pointed to his nose. The little guy’s freckles were front and center with his new shaved head. “But now I know why we bonded so easily. Me and Freckles. We’re meant to be.”

She shook her head, but the smile she wore hadn’t disappeared. I extended my hand for her to walk through the doorway before me, but stopped her before she passed through to whisper, “I was referring to both Freckles, in case you were wondering.”