When Love Is Unexpected: A Sweet Fake Relationship Friends To Lovers Romance

12. Chapter 12

After stopping by the studio to meet the new hires, I pick up groceries for tonight”s dinner.

Laila calls shortly after I get home to let me know she”s running late.

”Don”t worry,” I say, ”I got this. I”ll see you at six.”

I”m finding it increasingly challenging to keep my friendship with Laila strictly platonic. Last night was rough. I want to see her, touch her, kiss her. Keeping my hands to myself is nearly impossible. I have to touch her.

I can see now that returning to New York was a futile attempt to prove to myself that I could walk away from her again without regret. I want to be with her, but a friendship is no longer enough. I love her, and I want to be with her. The instant attraction I felt when I met her at Loren”s studio has grown into love. She”s the first thing I think of when I wake up and the last thing I think of before I drift off to sleep, and if I”m lucky, I get to see her in my dreams.

Even in Athens, all I thought about was Laila. I counted down the hours and minutes until I got to speak to her again.

I was shopping for her birthday gift the day I met Helga. She worked in a quaint little shop in Plaka. She helped me pick out some scented olive oil soaps and a beautiful, delicate scarf that Laila loved.

Helga”s English was limited, and my Greek was worse, but we made it work.

”This must be a very special friend to you, yes?” she asked. ”Is it your girlfriend? You love, or a girl who is a friend to you?”

”She”s just a friend,” I said. I lied.

Helga is beautiful and sweet. We started meeting for tea and then dinner. We went hiking, visited museums, and went to the beach. Once we started spending more time together, I found myself juggling my time between Helga and my phone calls with Laila.

It didn”t take long before Helga took notice of my schedule. She felt slighted, and I had no excuse or solution. Laila was my priority. I would leave Helga”s apartment and run home to call Laila. I knew she”d be waiting for my call, and the thought of standing her up broke my heart. I never stopped to think that I was breaking Helga”s heart instead.

During our explosive breakup, Helga reminded me of what a liar I”d been. ”You said!” she yelled. ”You said you were friends. No more than friends. You lied to me, Samuel! I hate you for using me, and I hate me for letting you.”

Last night, I could smell the scent of lavender soap on Laila”s skin—the soap Helga helped me choose.

When women say men are jerks, they”re talking about me.

The fantasy was that I could have a real relationship with another woman. The reality is, I can”t, and I can”t leave Cold Spring again.

The doorbell rings just before six. I greet each member of the Baldwin family as they enter.

”Come in,” I say. ”Come in.”

”Loren,” I say, ”you look beautiful.”

”Thank you, Sam,” she says, giving me a hug.

Her long, curly hair is tied back in a ponytail, with a few curls framing her face. Even at almost nine months pregnant, she glides into the room like a graceful ballerina. She”s wearing a dark plum maternity dress that”s gathered around her middle and ties with a perfect bow at the top of her belly. The color makes her green eyes look brighter, but maybe it”s her happiness I”m seeing.

Holly is wearing a light green dress and sandals. Her hair is in a bun on top of her head, held in place with the barrette I gifted her.

”Hey, your dress matches the barrette,” I say. ”You look so pretty.”

”Thank you, Sammy,” she says. ”I lost a tooth.”

”Yeah, I can see that,” I say, smiling. ”It just makes you look cuter.”

Aaron is casually dressed, but what stands out about him is his beaming smile. This man is undoubtedly happy, and their little family is perfect.

”Where”s Laila?” asks Loren.

”She”s running a little late,” I say. ”She should be here any minute.”

Before I can shut the door behind them, Laila appears. The first thing I notice is her perfectly straight hair—which is probably why she was running late. She”s wearing a white, off-the-shoulder cashmere sweater with a long, delicate necklace, matching earrings, and jeans.

”Come in,” I say, giving her a hug. ”You take my breath away.”

”Sorry I”m late,” she begins. ”This will be the one and only time I ever straighten my hair. It literally took me hours, so I hope you all appreciate it.”

”Your hair looks pretty,” Holly says, ”and long.”

”I think Katherine is the only one willing to invest the time to achieve that polished look on a regular basis,” says Loren. ”I don”t know how she does it.”

”I love your curls,” says Aaron, taking a strand of Loren”s hair and pulling it behind her ear.

”Okay, you two,” says Laila. ”Knock it off. You”re already pregnant.”

Loren laughs out loud, and her cheeks instantly turn a rosy pink.

Slipping into my best iron chef persona, I recite the dinner menu out loud.

”Listen up, everyone,” I begin. ”Tonight, I have mixed olive crostini from the deli down the street as an appetizer. As a main entree, we have spicy lemon chicken kabobs, saffron risotto, and a strawberry salad with poppy seed dressing, all of which were prepared by yours truly. For dessert, I picked up some mini molten cakes from the bakery located next to the deli. To quench your thirst, we have sparkling water, diet soda, lemonade, coffee, and tea.”

”Can I have lemonade, Mommy?” asks Holly.

”Yes,” says Loren. ”You can have lemonade with your dinner.”

”Tell us all about your life in Greece,” begins Aaron as soon as we sit down to eat.

Loren visited Athens with her parents a couple of years ago, searching for closure after losing her fiancé, Justin. What she found was that she missed and was deeply in love with Aaron.

”Athens is where I fell in love,” Loren says, reaching for Aaron”s hand. He takes her hand and lifts it to his lips, planting a soft kiss on her knuckles.

We spend the next hour swapping stories about our time there.

I glance at Laila every so often. She”s hanging on my every word, and I can tell she”s waiting for me to mention Helga. But that”s not going to happen.

The mood is light and cheerful, and the food is delicious.

”This chicken is perfect,” says Loren, ”and you made this?”

”I did,” I say. ”My best friend taught me how to cook.”

”And who would that be?” asks Laila.

”Google,” I say, winking at her.

”Aren”t you guys dying to know the gender of your baby?” I ask. ”Because even I want to know.”

”We thought about it for the first few weeks,” says Aaron. ”But the more we talked about it, the more we realized we wanted to wait.”

”What about you, Holly?” I ask.

”I want to be surprised, too,” she says. ”It”s gonna be like opening a good gift at Christmas.”

Aaron laughs, ”Yes, that”s exactly how it”ll be.” The admiration and love reflected in his eyes when he looks at Loren is tangible.

”We”ve decided to have Holly in the room with us when the baby”s born,” says Loren.

”I think that”s a great idea,” says Laila. ”It”ll be an unforgettable bonding experience for everyone, especially for Holly and her sibling.”

”If it”s a girl,” Holly says, ”I”m calling her Lizzy.”

”And if it”s a boy?” I ask.

”Peter Pan!” Holly exclaims.

”Peter Pan,” repeats Aaron before letting out a chuckle.

”Well,” I begin, ”I”m so happy for you. Knowing what you all went through to get to this point makes me believe in happily-ever-afters.”

Loren smiles and looks down at her belly, holding it protectively with both hands.

I glance at Laila, whose green gaze is fixed on me. I smile, and she smiles back.

”Dinner was great,” says Aaron as they get ready to leave an hour later. ”Have a safe trip.”

”Take care of my little sister,” says Loren. ”Have a good time, and please don”t pretend.”

Laila and I look at each other, feeling a pang of guilt. I can see now how my plan was a bad idea.

”Call me,” says Laila, looking at Loren. ”I want to know how the baby”s doing, even if I”m not here.”

”I”m gonna miss you, Auntie Laila,” says Holly.

”I”m going to miss you too,” says Laila.

After exchanging hugs, kisses, and handshakes, the Baldwins leave and walk the short distance to their home next door.

I shut the door and lock it before turning to face Laila.

”You didn”t mention Helga,” she says.

”There was no need,” I say.

”Sounds like you”ve had a lot of fun adventures in Greece. I can”t imagine you doing it alone. Was she with you on every excursion?”

”Are you asking because you”re curious or because you”re jealous?”

”Jealous? Of course not!”

”I don”t believe you,” I say.

She crosses her arms. A telltale sign that she”s upset.

”Come here,” I say.

”No,” she says.

”Stop pouting and come here.”

She walks over to me and lets me pull her in, wrapping my arms around her. Her sweet surrender to my embrace is also a telltale sign that she feels something—something more than just friendship.

”We have an early start tomorrow,” I say. ”Do you want to leave?”

”Are you asking me to leave?” she asks.

”You know, I”ve never nor will I ever ask you to leave.”

”We can sleep on the plane,” she says. ”Let”s eat the last molten cake together.”

”Before we eat dessert,” I say, ”how about if we do the dishes and clean the kitchen? Lisa is going to come by in the morning to empty out the refrigerator and pantry.”

After we finish loading the dishwasher and cleaning the kitchen, we spend time tidying up the living areas.

”You know,” Laila begins. ”Lisa is going to come in tomorrow and clean this place from top to bottom.”

”I know,” I say, ”but it makes me feel better to think she won”t have that much to do.”

”I open one of the kitchen drawers and pull out an envelope addressed to Lisa.

When I place it on the kitchen counter, Laila glances at it.

”That”s a nice touch,” she says, pulling herself up on the counter.

”Do you want some cake?” I ask.

”I do,” she says. ”Holly said it was the best part of dinner.”

”Holly is six,” I say. ”What do you think?”

I hand her the last molten cake and a spoon. When she cuts into it, the melted chocolate oozes out of the center.

”Hmm, it”s perfect,” she says after taking the first bite.

”Looks like you”re really enjoying it,” I say when she closes her eyes.

”Here, have some,” she says, offering me the next bite.

I accept the spoonful, and after I finish chewing, I nod.

”I agree,” I say. ”The chocolate center is warm and gooey. It”s delicious.”

When she smiles and stares at me, I say, ”What?”

”You have a little bit of chocolate right here,” she says, pointing at the corner of her lip.

”Right here?” I ask, pointing to the wrong side of my mouth.

”No,” she says, ”right there.” When she reaches with her napkin to wipe my face, I stop her hand in mid-air.

”Right here?” I ask, pointing at my chin.

”You”re being silly,” she says, laughing.

I take the plate from her hands and put it to the side.

”You still have chocolate on your face,” she says. ”Let me get it.”

I wrap my arms around her, pinning her arms to her chest so she can”t move. She”s giggling and wriggling, trying to free herself from my arms.

When she gives up the fight to free herself, I loosen the hug. She”s staring at me, wondering what I”ll do next.

”You look silly,” she says.

”I still have chocolate on my lip?”

”Yeah, it”s right there.”

When she tries to touch it with her fingertip, I gently move her hand down.

”What are you doing?” she asks.

”Go ahead,” I say. ”Wipe it off.”

”I”m trying, but you won”t let me.”

When I don”t say anything but just stare at her, she gets the message.

Her eyes are dark and captivating. I wonder if she”s feeling what I”m feeling. The undeniable spark between us.

”Sam,” she begins, ”if you don”t let me use my finger to wipe it off, there”s only one other way I can clean your face.”

”Go ahead,” I say.

She sits up straight on the counter so she can be taller and have better leverage.

”Let me go,” she says.

I let her go immediately, thinking she”ll push me away and tell me I”m crazy. When I try to take a step back, she reaches for me.

”Wait,” she says, pulling me back towards her. When she puts her hand up, I think she”s going to wipe the smudge off my face with her fingertip, but instead, she slides her hand around my neck and brings my head down to her level. I close my eyes and feel her lips touch my face, right at the corner of my mouth.

”There,” she says. ”All gone.” She leans back and puts her palms on the counter behind her.

Her sweater is off her right shoulder, revealing that birthmark that teases me every time I see it. It says, ”You can look, but you can”t touch.”

This time, I don”t listen.