32. Chapter 31
Chapter 31
Layne
Every single cell of my body burned as I curled my fingers around the fork. I hardly could hold myself on the chair anymore, the chatter of the other patrons assaulting my ears. The smell of pizza stung my nostrils and turned my stomach, and the lights stabbed my corneas. I had to get out of here.
For the third time in ten minutes, I tried to get Keaton’s attention by drilling my gaze into him, but he was too engrossed in a conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Wilson. I had long zoned out. Knowing how important this meeting was for Keaton—at least so he’d told me—I couldn’t just blurt out that I wanted to go home.
I rose from the chair, the room tilting for a second. When Keaton looked up at me, I forced a smile. “Restroom.”
His mouth briefly curved up in acknowledgement, then he turned back to the couple.
My legs shook when I stumbled past several tables and dining patrons, until I finally reached the hallway leading to the restrooms. I made it to the door with the ladies’ symbol and shoved inside. Thank God all the stalls were empty. I locked myself in the one at the very back and sank onto the closed toilet seat. Of course a flare had to come on at the worst possible moment.
And this one was on me. Going drifting had been a mistake. I knew better than engaging in activities that sent my adrenaline through the roof, then left me depleted. Yet I had to do it anyway because I couldn’t accept that having fun flared my symptoms.
The straps of my heels cut into my feet, so I took them off. Hugging my legs to my chest, I leaned against the stall wall and closed my eyes. Lord, please make it stop. I beg You.
But it got worse. A monster wave of exhaustion crashed over me and sucked me under with brute force.
God . . .
I needed to lie down.
The restroom door banged open, and two female voices penetrated the silence. It was like they were standing right next to me, screaming in my ears.
“Did you see her dress?”
Wait, was that Kimball? I had seen her come in with Delilah, Wentworth, and his teammate, Shotgun, earlier, so it could definitely be her. Why were they here? Was it coincidence?
“It’s stunning. I need to know that designer.” Definitely Delilah. “But her posture is terrible. And the way she shuffles around? Yikes.”
Kimball let out a hysterical giggle.
Great, now I was taking part in a gossip session I hadn’t signed up for.
“Seriously though,” Delilah said. “Why did Keaton marry her? It’s obvious that she’s after his money. Only a gold digger can fake an illness like that.”
I felt like someone slapped me in the face. They were talking about me ! Gold digger? I wasn’t a—
My throat thickened, and I processed a painful swallow. Was I really a gold digger?
“I asked him the exact same thing!” Kimball practically yelled. “Do you want to know what he said?”
Yes, I do.
“What?”
“For business purposes. Because she’s a charity case. Her illness”—Kimball’s voice dripped disgust—“makes the media pity her and Keaton look good.”
Yeah, I already knew that. But hearing it out loud . . . Had Keaton called me a charity case or were those Kimball’s words?
Kimball and Delilah continued to gossip, but their chatter didn’t get through to me. Dazed, I let my feet slide off the toilet seat and grabbed my heels. Then I stood and unlocked the stall. The two immediately fell silent.
“Layne.” Kimball produced a catlike smile. “I didn’t know anyone was in here.”
Delilah stared at me with her mouth open, then covered the laugh with a hand.
“Please promise me one thing,” I said, inwardly cursing my trembling voice. “Be grateful for every morning you wake up healthy.”
I turned away from them and fled out of the restroom. Delilah’s “Oh my word!” and Kimball’s laughter chased me down the hallway. I lifted my dress and started running. Ran and ran, my bare feet slapping against the carpeted floor. My eyes burned. Stop it. You will not cry because of them.
I pushed out the first door I found, ending up in an illuminated garden with groomed flower beds and a fountain. I stopped, closed my eyes, and hauled in a deep breath. The smell of roses and salt water rode on the balmy night air. My heart drummed against my rib cage—probably because I hadn’t done any cardio in ages. Or was it the humiliation?
The adrenaline that had allowed me to run crashed, and my body screamed for rest. I eyed the manicured lawn. If I weren’t wearing this stupid dress I could—Oh, whatever. I walked on it, the grass tickling my bare feet. A beautiful weeping willow shielded me from the restaurant, and I sank down behind it, curling up into a ball. My ears rang, my muscles burned, and my head was about to explode. Father, please have mercy on me.
It couldn’t go on like this. My health was getting worse, obviously because I was overdoing it. But I had a contract with Keaton. I couldn’t just stop being his wife.
Delilah is right, Jesus. I really am a gold digger. I married Keaton for his money.
Maybe it was better if I divorced him. He’d acted so cold the past couple weeks since the kiss. Thinking back, I was glad he’d turned me down. I’d slipped into old habits in the heat of the moment, and giving him everything would’ve been a mistake.
But it still hurt that he avoided me. What hurt even more was that his actions contradicted the longing in his eyes whenever I found him looking at me. He was clearly wrestling with something. The question was what. Was he scared to commit? Or worried I’d interfere with his business?
Endless options swirled in my mind, worsening the pressure in my head. I had to stop thinking immediately. Please, Lord . . .
The trickling of the fountain and Glam City’s distant traffic noise grew more unbearable by the minute. I wanted to cover my ears, but was too weak to lift my hands. It was like my muscles were locked. When was the last time I’d had such a bad crash?
Just stay calm, Layne. It’ll pass. It would. It always did. I just needed to rest for a few minutes.
The door opened, and I dared to take a glance. Keaton stepped into the night. He looked around the garden. “Layne?”
I held my breath. He couldn’t see me like this, lying in the grass with the expensive dress he’d bought me. It was too humiliating. Go away. Please, just leave.
As if hearing my thoughts, he turned and disappeared back inside the restaurant.
I let out a breath. Thank You, Lord.
No, a divorce wasn’t an option. If God wanted me to be Keaton’s wife, I wouldn’t leave his side, no matter what. Whether my husband noticed it or not, he was chained by darkness. I had the light to set him free, and I wouldn’t stop shining it until the Lord worked a miracle. Because that’s what was needed for a broken soul like Keaton’s.
Another ten minutes passed that I lay in the grass, then I sat up. It was time to go back. Keaton had probably combed the entire restaurant for me. And I was cold.
Using the thick tree trunk as support, I fought to my shaking legs. You can do it, Layne. Just take it easy. One step at a time.
I shuffled through the grass until I reached the cold stone floor. Focusing on my feet, I continued to encourage myself. My body could do a lot if I forced it to. Sure, PENE would make me pay for it tomorrow and who knew how many days or weeks after that, but I had no choice. I would go straight to Keaton and tell him that I wanted to go home. End of discussion.
“Layne.”
My heart leapt into my throat, and I froze. Wentworth.
“What happened?” His gaze flickered from my face to the heels in my hand, then back up. “Are you okay? I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Was that concern in his voice?
“Mm-hmm.” I didn’t have the strength for more.
Wentworth closed the distance between us in three long strides. Cupped my face with his calloused hands. “You don’t look okay.”
My legs buckled, and he caught me. I heard him curse, then I got swept up. The move reminded me so much of Keaton that my heart clenched painfully. I wanted it to be him, but his business was his priority.
“It’s okay, I gotcha,” Wentworth murmured.
The urgency in his steps reverberated in every burning cell of my body. Hopefully it wasn’t too far. I couldn’t take this pain much longer.
“What did you do to her?” Keaton’s voice barely made it past the tinnitus screaming in my ears, but the anger in it was unmistakable.
I let out a moan. Please don’t fight.