1. Layla #2
“Semantics.” Stella finished her champagne. “The point is, you will never be good enough for him. Deep down, you know it. And sooner or later, he’ll know it too.”
“That’s bullshit.” Stefan’s voice was hard. “Layla is the best thing that ever happened to me. I don’t care what you think, and I don’t care about your opinions on who I should have married.”
“Oh, but you should care, darling.” Stella’s smile returned. “Speaking of which, I ran into Vienna the other day. She asked about you.”
My stomach tightened. Vienna was one of Stefan’s clients. A wealthy investor who’d put money into several of his hotel projects. They had meetings regularly, lunches sometimes. I’d never thought anything of it.
“That’s nice,” Stefan said flatly. “How is she?”
“Wonderful. Beautiful as ever. She mentioned she had lunch with you last week.”
“It was a business lunch. She’s a client.”
“Of course it was.” Stella turned to me. “Did you know about these lunches, Layla? Vienna and Stefan have been meeting quite regularly lately. Once a week, at least.”
“I knew they had meetings.” I kept my voice steady. “That’s part of his job.”
“Meetings. Yes.” Stella nodded slowly. “And did Stefan tell you that Vienna and he used to date? Years ago, before you came along. I introduced them myself, hoping something would develop.”
I hadn’t known about that. Stefan had never mentioned any of it.
But I wasn’t going to give Stella the satisfaction of seeing me rattled.
“We didn’t date,” he said. “Mom, don’t start this.”
“You went to dinner together. Multiple times.”
“Because you kept setting it up. I went to keep the peace, and I told you after the second time that I wasn’t interested.”
“But you still see her. Still have these lunches.”
“She’s a client. She invests in our properties. I’m supposed to maintain a relationship with our investors.”
“Stefan.” I touched his arm. “It’s fine. I know Vienna is a client. You’ve mentioned her before.”
“See?” He turned to his mother. “Layla knows. There are no secrets here.”
“We all have pasts. What matters is the present,” I said.
“How very mature of you.” Stella’s tone made it clear she didn’t believe me.
“Mom, seriously.” Stefan put his arm around me. “This is getting ridiculous. Nothing happened. Nothing was ever going to happen. And now she’s a client, nothing more.”
“If you say so, darling.”
“Come on, Mom.” Stefan’s voice shifted lighter.
“Don’t be so old-fashioned. Just because I went out to eat with someone doesn’t mean she was my girlfriend.
” He scanned the room and pointed at an elderly woman in a purple dress.
“By that logic, Mrs. Sethi is my longest girlfriend. We’ve had lunch together at least fifty times. ”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed.
Mrs. Sethi was eighty-four years old, barely five feet tall, and famously obsessed with her collection of porcelain cats.
“That’s not the same thing,” Stella said stiffly.
“It’s exactly the same thing.” Stefan pulled me closer. “I love my wife. Only my wife. Vienna is a client, Mrs. Sethi is a client, and you need to stop trying to create problems where there aren’t any.”
Stella’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Fine. I can see I’m wasting my breath.”
“You are.”
“Just remember, Stefan. I only want what’s best for you.”
“Layla is what’s best for me.” He kissed my temple. “Now if you’ll excuse us, I’d like to enjoy what’s left of this gathering with my wife.”
He steered me away before Stella could respond, his hand warm on my back.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured when we were out of earshot. “She’s impossible.”
“She’s your mother.”
“That doesn’t give her the right to treat you like that.” He turned me to face him. “You know none of what she said is true, right? Vienna means nothing to me. Those dinners were nothing. You’re everything.”
“I know.” I reached up and straightened his tie. “I’m not worried about Vienna.”
“Good.” He caught my hand and brought it to his lips. “Because there’s no competition. There’s you, and then there’s everyone else, and everyone else doesn’t even register.”
“Smooth talker.”
“Truth teller.” He grinned. “Now come on. Let’s find a corner where I can stare at you without my mother interrupting.”
We stayed another hour, long enough to be polite, and then Stefan made our excuses and drove me home with his hand on my thigh the entire way.
The moment we were through the door, he made good on his promise from the car.
Afterward, we lay tangled together in our bed, my head on his chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back.
“Today was a lot,” he said.
“Your mother is a lot.”
“I know.” He kissed the top of my head. “But you handled her perfectly. God, I love watching you put her in her place.”
“Someone has to.”
“I love you.” He tightened his arm around me. “I know I say it all the time, but I mean it. I love you so much, Lay. You’re my whole world.”
“I love you too.” I pressed a kiss to his chest. “Now go to sleep. I’m exhausted.”
He was snoring within minutes.
I lay there for a while, listening to his breathing, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath my cheek. Then I carefully extracted myself and padded to the bathroom.
My period was five days late.
I’d bought a test two weeks ago, just in case, and hidden it under the sink. I hadn’t taken it yet because I’d been nervous, because I wasn’t sure, because part of me didn’t want to know.
But lying there with Stefan, feeling how much he loved me, how much I loved him, I suddenly needed to know.
I dug out the test, sat on the edge of the tub, and waited.
Two minutes later, I was staring at two pink lines.
Pregnant.
I pressed my hand flat against my belly and felt a smile spread across my face.
A baby. We were having a baby.
I wanted to run into the bedroom and shake him awake. But it was late, and he was tired, and this news was too big to deliver in the middle of the night.
Tomorrow. I would tell him tomorrow.
I wrapped the test in toilet paper and tucked it into my makeup bag where he wouldn’t find it. Then I went back to bed, curled against my husband, and smiled into the darkness.
Two pink lines.
Everything was about to change.