Chapter 89
W hen I woke up the next morning, I felt hungover.
But it wasn’t a physical hangover; it wasn’t the kind of hangover that comes as a result of drinking too much or partying too hard. It was the hangover that came from experiencing too much emotional weight in the previous few days.
It wasn’t helped, either, by the fact that Layla had texted me at about half an hour before eight.
“Can you come over? Got job offer. Want to talk to you about it.”
I sighed when I saw the text. At least Layla was giving me the chance to have the conversation with her. But did it really have to happen the day after Edwin’s funeral?
At least, as far as I was concerned, that was the last remains of Edwin’s effect on my life.
His decision to leave me out of the will would take some time to resolve, but it was done.
His funeral was done. The only connection I still had to him was that I was on the board at Hunt Industries, and honestly, the more time that went by, the more I figured it was better to just resign that position.
I had requested that more as a fuck you to Edwin; it wasn’t something that I now needed.
Certainly, from a financial perspective, I wouldn’t be needing it anytime soon.
“Yeah, I can head over whenever,” I wrote back to Layla.
She responded immediately, saying that I could come over anytime, but sooner was better.
That was all I needed to hear. I quickly went about my morning routine, put my jeans and button-down shirt on, and left before I even ate breakfast. I’d probably crave a bagel or two later in the day, but for right now, I just craved resolution with Layla even more.
I hurried over to her apartment, taking an Uber, and meeting her downstairs.
When I saw her, she had a smile on her face, but it was difficult to read which direction she was leaning.
She could have been smiling because she saw me, or because she knew this was the end of the line for us—much as she had said on Thursday.
And let’s not forget that she was smiling pretty well with someone else. Maybe she’s about to fuck me over again. Maybe she’s about to reveal some bombshell and have a man appear beside her.
Chance… calm down. That’s your paranoid side speaking. Fight it. Don’t let it win. Keep calm.
“Hey you,” she said, embracing me tightly, holding the hug.
“Hey Layla,” I said.
I pulled back, expecting to kiss her, but her motion back to the elevator made it so I couldn’t pull that off. I wasn’t too worried about it—I had met her before without the initial kiss, but it obviously would have made things a little bit better if I had actually kissed her.
Still, I walked to the elevator with some confidence.
“You feeling all right?” she said as we stepped in.
“Oh, yeah, I feel fine,” I said. “You talking about Edwin?”
She nodded.
“I know it’s hard to believe, but I really didn’t feel much for him,” I said. “He was just more of a person in the house I grew up in than anything else.”
“Yeah, true,” Layla said. “It’s still got to be sad.”
I shrugged.
“For Morgan, maybe,” I said. “But not for the rest of us.”
Tell her about your real parents. Tell her. Open up.
“I am, however, excited about something else. I’m going to see my real mother tomorrow.”
“Really?” Layla said, the excitement obvious in her voice.
“Yeah,” I said.
You’re just dodging the real reason you’re here, bud. It’s great you’re seeing your real mother tomorrow, but if you don’t figure things out with Layla, there’s no real reason for you to be here still.
“But enough about me,” I said. “You said you wanted me to come over and talk about the job offer, huh?”
I was feeling very, very, very nervous as I spoke. I hadn’t felt this way since middle school… the last time that Sarah Hill had walked out on me. I may have been able to understand abandonment wasn’t the big deal I had feared it was, but that didn’t mean I didn’t feel some serious nerves about it.
“Yeah, I found out over the weekend that the company offered me a job as one of their VPs in finance. It’s an amazing offer—six figures, equity, benefits out the wazoo, moving bonuses… it’s an amazing situation a lot of people would take in my spot.”
“I can imagine so.”
I should have kept my mouth shut then. I should have not said a word about seeing her on Saturday. I should have just let her continue.
But that little Chance who just needed to lash back… hell, he wasn’t even that little, he was around just a few months ago; he had to get a word in. He had to say something. He had a way of coming out when I was stressed, and damnit, he really was a dick right now.
“You sure seemed very happy when you told the old man Saturday.”
Goddamnit, you fucking idiot, Chance. And don’t you dare blame it on some alter ego of yourself. You said that. No one else did.
“What do you mean?”
Well, shit, you’re already here, you might as well keep going and burn yourself down to the ground.
“I saw you outside a bar on Saturday,” I said as the doors opened to Layla’s floor. “You looked like you were telling some old guy. He, uhh—”
“He was going to be my boss at the new place, Chance,” Layla said, obviously and justifiably upset at my move.
“He flew out here to try and recruit me. But you know what I told him? I needed time to think about it. Even with all of the things he was layering on me if I accepted on the spot, I told him I needed time. Do you know why?”
Oh, God…
“Because I like you so much, Chance, that I want to make it work in this city,” she said. “But… how did you see me there anyways? That’s not that close to your apartment.”
This was a moment I could have easily lied, covered my ass, apologized for having been insecure, and called it a day.
I could have moved on, had a romantic and fun conversation with Layla, cemented our relationship, and texted Sarah to say I couldn’t make it.
I could make all of the problems go away.
But that would have been an Edwin Hunt move. That would have been the kind of thing that might have worked for now; it might have even worked for a few months. But at some point, the truth always came out—Edwin had proved as much.
“I was out with a friend and we passed by the bar.”
“Who?”
Well, if I had tried to sugarcoat the words by being vague, there was no escaping it now.
“Sarah Hill,” I said, practically pushing the words out before I could reconsider saying anything.
Layla’s face dropped. We had gotten to her front door, just moments away from getting inside, a chance to start doing things. And now, I had dropped a bombshell.
“She’s leaving tomorrow, though, and nothing happened,” I said, which I didn’t feel like was a lie.
I hadn’t kissed her, let alone slept with her. I’d touched her some, but I’d pulled away at every moment I could have done something. If that didn’t indicate a serious commitment to trying to make it work with Layla, I didn’t know what did. Nothing did.
“That hurts,” she said. “You told me on Thursday to talk to you before you took the job. Why did you ask that?”
I bit my lip. Boy, I had really fucked myself over with a moment of jealousy. I had let my emotions get the better of me—what a classic Chance move.
What a fuckup I was.
“Because I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend once all of the shit with Edwin Hunt’s funeral settled down,” I admitted.
“And was ‘all of the shit’ including you seeing your childhood crush and the girl that you’ve secretly hoped to get back since you had barely hit puberty?”
I looked at her askance. How did she know all of that? I hadn’t said anything about Sarah to her before.
“Don’t look at me like I don’t know, Chance.
I got everything when I helped your brother and you get rid of Edwin.
I didn’t think anything of it, because we all have our past baggage.
But I sure think a hell of a lot of it now that I know she came to town and you chose to hang out with her while we were trying to figure things out. ”
“Layla…”
“Damnit, Chance,” she said. “I’m not your backup plan. I know I fucked up, but that doesn’t mean you get to treat me like shit.”
I realized that there was nothing I could say here to make Layla feel better, and that wasn’t because Layla was mad or crazy.
If I were in her shoes, I could see how everything she was saying was a giant fuckup on my part.
I had known in my gut that even meeting Sarah was a mistake; it wasn’t like we’d stayed friends all through high school and college.
She’d been exactly what Layla said she was—someone I had pined for since I’d just started to have my balls drop.
And now it had cost me my shot at love.
“I’m sorry, Layla,” I said. “I just hope you know that you are not my backup plan. I don’t believe in backup plans. I believe in going all in and accepting whatever happens. I want to go all in with you. I still do.”
“Then you need to tell me exactly what happened with Sarah,” Layla said. “I’m not the jealous type, but I think you can forgive my suspicion here, right?”
I nodded. It was not a good look.
And so, in painful detail, I recounted everything that had happened.
Well, almost everything—I spared her the details about us crashing into the wall at the ice rink and nearly kissing.
But I admitted all of the walking around we did, all of the spots we hit, and how Sarah was interested in me, but it was something I refused.
All of it sounded nice and good, but there was a serious problem with the idea that I could get myself out of this situation. I had specifically told Layla to hold off on accepting the job—and yet I couldn’t hold off on seeing an old friend?
If I could go back in time, I would have told Sarah I’d see her on Monday or Tuesday before she flew out. I would have said something about Edwin and needing to take care of all of this. Or, frankly, maybe I just should have said the fucking truth.
But no. I let my childish impulse and desires win out over my better common sense.
“Chance…” Layla said, her voice trailing off.
“You’re going to take the Chicago job?”
Layla bit her lip. Her expression said it all.
“You should go now, Chance,” she said. “Thank you for everything. I mean it. The good and the bad. It made me grow up and grow a spine for myself. But… if you’re going to keep Sarah Hill in your life, I’m never going to be able to sleep easy with you, wondering if she’s someone that you’re going to run to the minute things don’t work out between us. So, I won’t hold you back from that.”
“Layla—”
“If she’s leaving tomorrow, go see her tonight,” Layla said. “You can get it out of your system, get the girl you always wanted, and then whomever you date next won’t have to deal with your issues with her.”
“Layla!”
“I’m sorry, Chance.”
My lip quivered as I bit it. I bowed my head.
I was fighting so hard to stay in control.
Inside, I was yelling at myself, calling myself a fucking idiot for going out with Sarah.
Layla was acting in the right; even if the reality didn’t match up with her perception, her perception was the only reality she had to go on. I should have known that.
“I wish you luck, I really do,” she said. “I’ll text you before I leave New York if you want to grab coffee or lunch. But it’ll be strictly as friends.”
Fuck…
Chance Hunt, the idiot, strikes again.
“OK,” I said.
I went to hug her, but she just kind of passively accepted the hug; it definitely wasn’t the same type of embrace that she had given me earlier.
I pulled back, not wanting to waste any more of her time.
I nodded, turned, and walked away as I heard her unlock her apartment, step inside, and then lock it behind me.
When I got to the elevator doors, I just leaned against the wall. This has nothing to do with you bringing it up as you did. She handled your juvenile accusation just fine. This has everything to do with you not giving her the respect she gave you.
She fucking held off on accepting a dream job for you! And you couldn’t even keep a “date” with an old friend to an hour. No wonder she said to go away. She deserves better than you. She certainly can.
The elevator doors opened, but it felt like the path to my personal happiness had slammed shut like a house door during a hurricane.
I slumped against the elevator, ignoring the other tenant looking at me.
I pulled out my phone, looked through my texts, and saw that Sarah had sent me a message asking me to let her know when and if I could make tonight work.
I stared at it, and for a long time, I was determined to ignore it. I thought of Layla’s words— she’s someone that you’re going to run to the minute things don’t work out between us— and wanted to refute that notion. I didn’t want to prove Layla right with how immature and weak I was.
But by the time the elevator doors had gotten to the bottom of the apartment complex, the immature and needy side of me said “fuck that.” It didn’t care about what Layla wanted. She wasn’t an option anymore, and so she didn’t get the right to hold herself over my head like so.
“Hey,” I wrote Sarah. “Let’s meet up tonight for some drinks and fun, huh?”
I sent a kissy emoji along with it. Sarah’s response was immediate.
“That sounds like a delight.”
A dangerous kind of delight.
And one that I’m free to do now.