“You haven’t. None of you have.”
“That’s not the case, Layla. It’s just different now. Things changed. Everything changed. There was my relationship with Sebastian, then the news of what our father had been doing. Then what happened to Richard. It was an avalanche of adjustment even before Dad died. Then Tobias entered our lives and everything became chaos. And Benji…” She sighs. “I guess in the aftermath, I inched away from everyone and hid in the comfortable world I’d built with Sebastian because it was easier.”
She might like to believe that story, but it’s a lie.
She pulled away from me. From what I did. Just like Cole, Sarah, Hunter, Decker, and even Luca, too. They made me a pariah. And although it was initially deserved, I didn’t earn a lifetime of this suffering.
“I haven’t held it against you,” she whispers. “I want you to be happy.”
“You want me to be happy—you just have such a low opinion of me that you think I’m weak enough to be with a man who would hit me.”
“Jesus Christ. You can’t blame us for making assumptions when you’re deliberately being secretive. You keep escaping out of town without letting anyone know and not using your credit cards to make yourself untraceable. Even now, you took off after withdrawing a whole heap of cash. What are we supposed to think?”
I glance out the window, heartbroken and needing to diffuse the conversation, while being angry and itching to blow it up at the same time. “Forgive me for not wanting to be stalked like a fugitive. Two years ago, my husband was taken from me. Now my daughter has been shipped away. I had to find something to distract myself from a house that has become hauntingly quiet. It’s goddamn lonely, Keira.”
“But why hide where you’re going?” she asks softly. “You had to know your actions would spark Cole’s paranoia.”
“Maybe I want to be free from our family for a little while… Maybe I want to pretend I’m someone else.” Someone who doesn’t have skeletons to hide and mistakes to resolve.
“I can understand that. I’ve thought the same thing many times. It’s the—”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I interrupt as Matthew returns to the table, his raised brow questioning whether I’m okay. “I only called to check in and now I’ve gotta go. Tell our brother to stop contacting me. I want to be left alone.”
“Layla—”
I disconnect, not waiting for her response, and place the cell face down on the table.
Matthew takes his seat, his jaw tight. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing. Just family drama.” I grab my cloth napkin and place it over my lap, unable to maintain eye contact.
“Want to talk about it?”
I can’t share those parts of my life with him, no matter how much I want to. “Honestly, it’s nothing.”
“Honestly, amore mio, I can tell that’s not true.” He reaches over the table, sliding his hand out for me to take.
I stare at the offering. The lifeline.
I want nothing more than to take it. To latch on. Cling tight.
“That was my sister on the phone.” I raise my gaze and paste on a fake smile. “My family don’t appreciate me disappearing to places unknown. Apparently, they can’t stop me from making careless mistakes if they don’t know where I am.”
“Are you prone to making mistakes?”
“Yes,” I admit. “I’ve made a few. I’ve trusted people I shouldn’t and paid the price.”
He appraises me for a moment, his weighty consideration stripping me bare. “Trust is a favorable quality to most. Would we be here together without it?”
No. But my husband would be alive and my daughter would live without nightmares if I’d been more hesitant when offering my faith.
“My family is different.” I slide my hand to meet his, our fingertips kissing on top of the table. “We usually function in our own little utopia, so it’s hard when things go wrong.”
“I’m sure they’ll forgive you.”
I scoff a laugh. “It’s been two years.”
“Damn.” His eyes narrow. “Well, I’m glad you’re here with me instead. Did you tell them where you are?”
“No. And I’ve been using cash so they can’t track my whereabouts through the bank, but my brother will find another way eventually.”
He pulls his arm back, sitting straighter. “He’s trying to track you?”
Shit. I’ve said too much. “It’s not that extreme.”
His chin raises, his posture growing tense. “I should speak to him.”
“No.” God, no. I press my lips tight to suppress a delirious laugh. Cole would kill him on sight. “It’s not as bad as it seems. We have joint accounts. Any purchase I made through a credit card would announce my location.”
“You don’t need to worry about money while you’re here. I’ll take care of it.”
This time I’m the one to reach farther across the table, my fingers seeking his. “I appreciate the offer, but I withdrew enough before I left to tide me over until I return home. I can look after myself.”
“Believe me, you’ve demonstrated that without fault.” His hand finds mine again, the calloused palm skating over my knuckles. “The thought of taking care of you brings me pleasure.”
I blush, my mind sliding into the gutter. “You’re doing that just fine without any financial contribution.”
He laughs, the utterly brilliant sound tickling every sensitive part of me. “Why don’t we get our dinner to go and take this conversation back to the penthouse?”
My pulse increases, the fluttering wings of arrhythmia swooping through my limbs. “Will we be merely conversing, Mr. Langston?”
He grins, smooth and flawlessly seductive. “No, amore mio, but a lot of my plans involve what I can do with my mouth.”
21
Layla
One night swoons into another, each romantic evening meal distracting me from the reason why we met.
Sometimes Matthew is gone when I wake. At other times he remains in bed, his arm wrapped possessively around my waist like I’m a priceless treasure. And no matter how much he’s at work, he always makes me his priority.
His out-of-town trips never last overnight. We either spend hours together in the morning or the evening, and it’s never enough. Not with the way he listens intently whenever I speak, or how he continues to offer exaggerated, outlandish promises for our future that make me ponder if they could actually become reality.
Could we forge a life together even though we’re still yet to talk about the common goal that made our paths cross in the first place?
The days have passed with the Costas not being more than a passing word. Neither of us seem ready to fizzle the sparks between us by bringing up the elephant in the room, even though it needs to be discussed sooner rather than later.
We’ve kept our truce in place regarding personal information. He gives me space when I call Stella. He doesn’t ask questions. Doesn’t demand insight I’m not willing to give. But every day my walls grow fragile, tiny fissures forming to allow slips of my life to spill free.