38. Laila
38
LAILA
“What do you guys think about an ocean-inspired wallpaper right here?” I squint towards the wall in the far corner, trying to imagine it. A week ago, it was a mouse graveyard, so anything would be an upgrade on that.
“Still dreaming of St. Barts?” Guilia squeezes my elbow as she joins me in my corner staring. “Must’ve been some trip if you want to permanently commemorate it.”
“My sudden need for beachy wallpaper has nothing to do with St Barts. Although it was an amazing, magical trip.”
“You mean ‘sensual,’” Guilia corrects.
“Toe-curling,” Kira chimes in from my other side.
“Orgasmic.”
“ Multi- orgasmic.”
I roll my eyes. “Why did I ask you two for help? I can’t remember anymore.”
“Because we’re amazing.”
“And magical,” Kira adds. “Don’t forget magical.”
“And sometimes multi-orgasmic. Whenever the hubby pops a little purple pill for me.” Before I can shove the two cackling hens out of the front door, Guilia fans her hands out in front of us. “Plus, between the three of us, we can turn this space into the hippest, coolest yoga space in the city.”
“Starting with plants,” Kira declares, clapping her hands.
“Paint colors should come first,” Guilia says.
“Or,” I suggest, grabbing my purse, “we can start with coffee. I’m buying.”
They shout their orders at me, and I leave them behind to walk to the coffee shop right next door. It’s a cozy little space with only four tables and a couple of stools, but the display counter is absolutely filled to the brim with the most gorgeous cakes and pastries. If the coffee is as good as the pastries look, I’m living the dream.
The woman behind the register has bronze hair in tight ringlets and a nose piercing. She waves as I walk in. “Hi, gorgeous. What can I get you?”
I rattle off the orders and add a couple of pastries to the list. “Is there a possibility of setting up a tab here?” I wonder. “I’m renting the space next door and?—”
“ You’re the new tenant?” She sticks her hand over the counter for me to shake. “Welcome, neighbor! I’m Carrie.”
“Laila.”
“Pleasure. It’s so nice to see another woman-owned business enter the strip.” She glances to her left. “I mean, the boys are nice, but I’m all about championing female entrepreneurship. What’s your business?”
“I’m opening a yoga studio. The goal is an opening date sometime in September, but…”
“Who the hell knows?” She laughs. “I totally get it. I’ve always been interested in yoga. It’s just, I have this bum leg.” She walks out from behind her counter and lifts the leg of her baggy khaki trousers to reveal a prosthetic. “Sorry about the nasty scars. I served two tours in Afghanistan.”
“I’d show you my scars, but that would require partial nudity, and I’m not sure that’d be good for business.”
Carrie raises her eyebrows. “You served?—”
“Oh, God, no!” I rush to correct her. “I was in a car accident when I was young and it left me with a bad hip and chronic pain. Yoga really helped. I think it might help you, too.”
Carrie purses her lips. “I don’t know…”
“I’ve actually been thinking about having an accessible yoga class every week for people with disabilities.” The idea came to me a week ago, and I’m still so excited about it that I can’t stop myself from roping this almost perfect stranger into my schemes. “Your input could be super helpful in getting the class started. I’ll even give you the girl boss discount rate.”
Carrie laughs. “Well, how can I say no to that? I have a couple of other military buddies I can bring along for the ride.”
I have to bite my tongue to stop from squealing like a little girl.
Absolutely living the dream.
“… and she said she’d bring a bunch of her veteran friends for a group session. I penciled them down for the seventh of September.”
“You’ve got yourself a launch date.” Arsen smiles proudly.
“I can’t believe it,” I trill. “I’m gonna have my own studio, my own students, my own business!”
“You worked hard for it, roza .”
“I couldn’t have done any of it without you.”
I abandon my chair for his lap. Nina is sleeping soundly in her bassinet, having zonked out halfway through dinner. All is well in my world.
I spear the last carrot on his plate. “How was your day?”
“Great. We got an international client interested in stocking Pobeda in all their hotels, bars, and casinos. They’ll be flying in next week for an in-person meeting.” He plucks the fork out of my hand, carrot still intact, and places it on the table. “But let’s not talk about work. The only thing I’m interested in right now is getting you to bed.”
“And here I thought the honeymoon was over.”
“If I have my way, it will last the rest of forever.”
We leave the dirty plates on the table while Arsen gently lifts Nina out of her bassinet and carries her to her crib in the nursery. I turn the baby monitor on, and then Arsen takes my hand and walks me into our bedroom.
He stops at the foot of our bed, noticing the wooden box resting squarely in the center. “What’s this?”
I smile coyly. “Why don’t you open it and see?”
“Laila…”
“Remember that shopping spree I had in St. Barts just before we left? Well, I got you something.”
I almost laugh at the scrunched look on Arsen’s face. The man’s clearly not used to being on the receiving end of gift-giving.
“Laila, this is really?—”
“Stop wasting time and open the damn gift, please. I saw it and immediately thought of you.”
With a sigh, he lifts the lid to reveal a smaller leather box inside, embossed with the words Patek Philippe.
He groans. “I already know this is too much.”
“Don’t become a scrooge on me now. You’re worth it. Go on; open it.”
Arsen flips the lid and, sitting on a black velvet cushion, is a stunning silver watch with a bright green dial. He admires it silently for a few moments before finally picking it up and holding it to the light. “It’s magnificent. And the green dial… It’s exactly the same shade as your eyes.”
I blush. “I wanted you to have a little reminder of me on your arm all the time.”
“In a cute way or an ‘I’m always watching’ kind of way?”
I slap his arm. “Don’t ruin the moment, wiseass.”
He chuckles as he drapes an arm across my shoulders. “Baby, you’re in my heart constantly. I don’t need a physical reminder.”
“Turn it over,” I implore, resisting the urge to do it for him. “I had it engraved.”
He turns it over and mouths the words that I had engraved on the underside. “‘ You’re the sun to my rose . Always and forever.’ ” His gaze drifts towards me. His jaw is locked tight.
Is this what it’s like to see Arsen Adamov emotional? I was not prepared for it.
“I-is it too much? Too sappy?” I wince. “I knew I should’ve gone with?—”
He cuts me off by pressing his lips to mine. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” Immediately, he replaces the Rolex on his wrist with the one I got him. “I love it. And I love you.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and fall into his arms. It’s the first time he’s ever said it to me.
Instead of replying, I just sink into him and savor the feeling.
I was not prepared for that, either.