Chapter Three Layla
Chapter Three
Layla
By the time I walked back into the venue, the ceremony had already begun. Kellianne stood next to Connor, wearing the most angelic white mermaid dress, her pale-blond hair arranged in an elegant updo. Somehow seeing her like this, all cherubic and virtuous, strengthened my resolution to speak up.
She was exactly who I’d imagined he would end up with. The body of a model, the personality of a saint, and the age of Leonardo DiCaprio’s next girlfriend.
The wedding officiant was droning on about how the couple had met as I slid back into my seat next to Tara.
It took me a second to realize she was bawling her eyes out into a crumbling piece of tissue. I averted my gaze toward her, putting a tentative hand on her shoulder. I’d never been this emotional at a wedding. Even when Mads—my best friend since we were both out of diapers—wedded Chase.
“Hey, you need some water?” I asked.
“No.” She blew her nose loudly into the tissue, drawing alarmed looks from our surroundings. “I’m just . . . this is so . . . unexpected.”
“Unexpected?” I blinked.
“Connor and I dated for two years before he met Kellianne. I always wondered if there was a slight overlap, since . . . since . . .” Pfffft.
She blew her nose again. “But he said that I was imagining things. That I needed to let go. Well, now the wedding officiant said they met at Coachella? We were still together in April. I bought him that ticket. I ended up not going because my grandmother passed away.”
“What?” the woman next to her whisper-shouted, whipping her head to us. “He was with you? He was with me up until and including the end of March. For two years.”
Oh boy.
“How long have Connor and Kellianne been together?” I asked Tara, a chill burrowing into my bones.
“Officially since June.” She buried her face in the tissue, then caught herself. “I just need a moment. That’s all. I love them both and wish them all the best.”
Well, I only liked one of them and wished the other genital warts.
The women in my row began talking animatedly about when they’d dated Connor. There seemed to have been an overlap, which didn’t surprise me. Connor definitely had a wandering eye. And dick.
It was utterly ironic that I was sandwiched between Connor’s exes. What bothered me the most was, Why had they been invited here in the first place? Connor was cruel, but not stupid. Not by a long shot.
I got my answer from a sniffling Tara. “I only agreed to come here because he said I meant so much to him. That he still saw me as his good friend.”
“Same,” the others moaned.
What a gaslighter. He broke their hearts, their trusts, and then, to avoid the consequences, placated them by making them feel like they were still a part of his life.
He was still the same old Connor.
Manipulative. Cruel. Cunning.
Anger simmered beneath my skin. I trained my gaze back on the officiant and couple. And when the elderly minister asked if anyone objected to the pairing, that was when I sprang into action and jumped to my feet.
“Yes, actually.” I raised my hand, like a teacher’s pet trying to answer a tricky question. “I object to this wedding.”
The women in my row gasped in unison, horror written all over their faces. It was so tangible I could see it in my periphery, without even paying them any attention.
The entire room was staring at me like I’d spoken in another language.
I forced myself to look Connor in the eye to show him I wasn’t scared.
I saw the minute it all clicked in his head, and he realized the girl he’d left behind had grown up to be a woman with a spine who wasn’t so easy to bully and tame anymore.
His browns met my blues, and there was a warning there. A threat too.
Don’t cross me, they said. You know what happened the last time you did.
“Kelly, baby.” Connor placed his hand on his soon-to-be-wife’s arm, his stare still glued to mine. “Where did you—”
“Ma’am . . .” The officiant cleared his throat. I was a ma’am now, huh? “If you could please take a sea—”
“No. You asked a question, and now I’m answering it. I object to the wedding on the grounds that the groom is an absolute jackass, and sweet Kellianne over here deserves more. And I’ll elaborate.” I stood straighter.
Murmurs erupted from every corner of the room. Two graying men with Gru-like expressions stood up from the first row and made their way to me. One of them I recognized as Connor’s dad, and I assumed the other one was Kellianne’s dad.
“Take the check, Layla. Do as I say. Start fresh. Forget this ever happened. That these two worlds collided. That my son and you ever entertained the idea of being together.”
I didn’t have much time.
“Kellianne!” I called out, turning to look at her. Her chin trembled as she stared at me. Even through the thick sheet of tears and from afar, I could see the distinct look of confusion, disbelief, and betrayal.
“Please don’t do this.” I pressed my palms together.
“He is a terrible partner. I was with him for three years. He dictated what I could wear, eat, and watch. Who I could hang out with. He put down all of my friends. Even the ones he’d cheated on me with.
He made me feel stupid, incapable, and insecure.
Always told me I needed to lose weight, change my hair, change my perfume.
He slept with multiple people while we were together, one of them graciously gifting him an STI.
He’d always been bad about giving gifts, but this was a stretch.
” Revealing this in front of a venue full of people was not something I’d necessarily add to my CV; then again, I couldn’t not warn her off.
“And I hate to admit it, but even that didn’t make my dumb twenty-one-year-old ass dump him.
It took so much worse for me to realize he was a terrible human. ”
I was breathless, panting, the memories gripping my wrists and ankles like vines, pulling me under to a place dark and suffocating.
His exes murmured among themselves, elbowing one another.
There was excitement in the air. And while I didn’t verbally get their support, I had a feeling they were rooting for me.
The two men were almost at my row. It was time to wrap things up.
“I went along with it because I was dazzled by his good looks and his family’s pedigree.
And I’m here to tell you that looks wear off and that conditional money will imprison, not free you.
” Finally, finally, I moved. I was squeezing my way past knees and feet, trying to worm out of the row of chairs and make a run for it before their fathers got to me.
“When push came to shove, when I needed him, he let me down. He harassed and abused me. He and his entire family.”
“She is a disgruntled ex.” Connor pointed at me, his manicured finger shaking.
Maybe he was still handsome, with his honey-brown hair, three-hundred-dollar haircut, and square chin, but I couldn’t see past that ugly personality.
“I broke up with her and she never got over it. I mean, really? Telling someone they need to lose weight is abusive now? Kelly, baby, you have to believe me.”
I was already hurrying across the plush white carpet and out the double doors.
I didn’t want to wait for the elevator. Not when I was sure their fathers were still after me.
I ripped the heels from my feet, gathered them by the stilettos, and took the stairs two floors down instead, then waited for an elevator.
I was nauseous with adrenaline. My hair stuck to my sweaty forehead. And I couldn’t, for the life of me, put my shoes back on, because my hands were so shaky.
What had I just done?
I’d ruined a wedding. I’d opposed a marriage. Jesus Christ, I was going to hell. My skin was too fair for that climate. I’d chosen New York for a reason.
My thoughts swam in my head, lacking any coherent direction.
They were probably still getting married right now. And yet, I didn’t regret it. I’d done my civil duty. I’d warned her off. What she did from this point onward was on her.
I fished my phone out of my purse and stared at the screen.
Who do you call, Layla Schmidt, when the world’s just come crumbling down on your head and someone needs to pick up the pieces?
Maddie, of course. My best friend in the entire world. But she’d insist on picking me up, and her pregnancy sickness was through the roof. No, it was too late. And she was so tired that she wasn’t even reaching for remotes these days.
Calling my parents was always an option. They lived in Jersey now. But I honestly couldn’t think of anything more depressing than running back to Mommy and Daddy to lick my twelve-year-old wounds that had just reopened.
That left me with one option.
I opened my text message box with Grant Gerwig. The last time we’d texted was a month ago. Him telling me I forgot my hoodie at his place. Me never replying because . . . well, that’s how we were. Casual. Uncommitted. Free to come and go as we pleased (all puns intended).
Layla: Hey.
The message immediately appeared to have been read. One of the things I loved about Grant was that we both had very little life outside our jobs and best friends, so we always had time for each other.
Grant: Hi.
Layla: What are you doing?
Grant: Not much. You?
God, in text messages, he was drier than my mouth after a full night of sleeping congested. So different from how he was in person.
Layla: I just opposed a marriage in the middle of a 350-guest wedding ceremony and made a ru
The elevator pinged and the door opened.
I stepped inside, grateful to find it empty.
While it closed, I contemplated changing my mind about telling Grant the entire story, but I decided to go for it.
He was surprisingly nonjudgmental for a tall, high-earning, porn star–fucking bachelor who also happened to be a doctor.
Layla: I just opposed a marriage in the middle of a 350-guest wedding ceremony and made a run for it.
Grant: You did not.
Layla: Did too.
Grant: Pic or it didn’t happen.
I clicked on the camera app, flipped the screen, and took a selfie in the fancy hotel elevator, doing a kissy face with my updo and fancy pink dress. Then applied three different filters. Then clicked send.
Grant: Is this a TikTok challenge? I swear to God, Gen Z is so fucked. I’m glad I’m not reproducing.
Layla: The groom was my mythological ex.
Layla: My mythological Jackass ex. I consider warning the bride a public service, even though I think the wedding is still on.
Grant: Do I need to post bail?
The fact that I knew he would made me less agitated with my own existence. He was so down to earth for someone so dazzling. I grinned, my thumbs flying over the screen.
Layla: I’m clearly not in a police station.
Grant: Yet. Night’s still young, and I know you.
He knew why I’d contacted him. It was why I always contacted him. To have wild, hot sex. But he wanted me to say it. To explicitly proposition him. He didn’t care that I’d just had the worst night of my life. For him, it was a transaction like any other. An orgasm transaction, but still.
Layla: Speaking of nights, since you’re not doing anything interesting . . .
Read. He was still looking at the screen. Not answering.
Grant: That’s not technically a full sentence, Layla.
Layla: You can pick me up. I’ll buy you dinner*.
Grant: *?
Layla: *A very cheap one. Payday is next week.
Grant: Do I look like a cheap date?
Layla: I’m not sure what you look like. Your features are a bit hazy in my mind. Every time we’re together I sit on your face.
Grant: Drop me your location. I’m on my way.
I turned to the mirror, pressed my forehead against it, closed my eyes, and took a steadying breath.
I’d just stood up to my monster.
And survived to tell the tale.