Chapter 12
Twelve
The next morning, Laila once again sat in her driveway with her blank stare pointed through her windscreen. The light out there still held a muted early glow and the back of her eyes ached from her long night at work. As much as she wanted to, there wouldn’t be much more than three hours to nap before her dad dropped Whitney off for the day and he moved onto his own work.
Resigned to not waste more time, Laila let out a sigh and stepped out of her car, trudging up her short pathway and then groaning at the effort of scaling the few stairs leading to her door. Her entire night had been spent standing at a mostly empty register or returning wayward stock to the shelves, and she’d somehow have to follow all that up with cramming in some studying while looking after Whitney. That meant entertaining and reading to her child, cooking, and attempting some kind of neatness in her home littered with toys and unfolded laundry.
“Never enough minutes. Never enough hands.” She grumbled to herself and stepped inside her house. Next, she discarded her uniform in the laundry pile and pulled on a more comfortable set of home clothes.
Her next stop was the kitchen, where she searched the cupboards and fridge for what remaining groceries might provide lunch later, only for the search to end at the sound of someone knocking at the front door.
Bad timing. Super bad timing. She just wanted to crash and enjoy a moment of nobody needing anything from her, and still, she answered the door.
No one stood on her landing, and she scowled out to the quiet and empty street for a while, before peering down to find a rectangular, red ceramic dish waiting on her doorstep. She lifted the foil atop, the dish still warm, and two perfect rows of chicken enchiladas inside.
“What the…?” She raised her focus again in search of whoever left her food, only now noticing someone had mowed the neglected jungle she called her lawn.
A slow smile pulled at her lips, and she turned to Ramos’s house, the man himself standing on his landing and smiling back at her. “I’d invite myself over to share that, but you look wrecked.”
“Way to make a woman feel attractive. But thanks.” She stood and chuckled, raising the dish in gratitude. “How fast did you have to run to get over there before I came out?”
Arms crossed, he shrugged one shoulder and offered an easy reply. “Let’s just say, I now know I’m capable of clearing that little fence between us in one leap.”
She threw her head back and laughed, only to think twice and cringed down at the fence. “You must be feeling lucky, that thing has pickets.”
He chuckled and shook his head at her in a way that said he appreciated her wicked sense of observational humor, though he offered no words in reply.
So, she went about filling the silence, because frankly, she wanted to talk with him a little longer. “Thanks for the lawn too, by the way. You really didn’t have to.”
“What else is there to do while I sit about waiting for shit to hit the fan?” His expression lost all humor at his reference to the syndicate coming back to Harlow, and still he jutted his chin out to the dish in her hand. “I kept it light on the spice for Whitney, but those are my mom’s not-so-secret recipe, and they were my favorite growing up.”
“Not-so-secret?”
“Oh yeah, she’s not stingy with her recipes. In fact, she’ll write you an entire cookbook given the chance.”
She pressed her lips together and held back another laugh, making a quick mental note on the endearing relationship this guy seemed to have with his mother. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Anyway, I hope you and the kid enjoy those as much as I do.”
Laila gave a choppy chuckle. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m sure we will. Strangely enough, Whit loves spice.”
A small pause dragged out and she failed to hold back a yawn, one that forced her to turn her head to her shrugged shoulder to obscure her open mouth since her hands were full holding the dish.
Adrian straightened and uncrossed his arms, a concerned tension wrinkling his forehead. “You go get some sleep. We’ll speak later.”
She nodded, feeling suddenly a whole lot lighter for his help. As much as she had to do today, thanks to Ramos, she had one less thing to worry about. So, even as she turned for her door, she twisted back one last time to mouth the words, “Thank you.”
Hours later, Laila sat before her pile of books at the kitchen table, Whitney draped over the couch in front of her favorite TV show, Power Cats . She’d already received a five-minute warning on getting ready for another overnight stay at her grandparents’ house, but Laila knew from experience that getting this kid into the car so late in the afternoon usually wasn’t all that straight forward.
The show’s credits ran, and several cartoon cats danced about in various martial arts poses, signaling the perfect time for Laila to hit the STOP button on the remote beside her. “Okay, kiddo. Time to get dressed.”
Whitney shot to her feet, like something out of an exorcism movie, and leveled a deep glare Laila’s way. “I was watching that!”
“Yeah, and I warned you that we’d have to leave soon.” Laila shrugged and walked the remote over to a high shelf in the kitchen Whitney couldn’t reach.
“I’m not going.” Whitney stomped her tiny foot to the carpet, the hem of her pink, cotton dress flicking out with the movement. “I’ve already been to Nana and Popo’s house today. I won’t go again!”
“Yes, you will.” Laila set about refilling Whitney’s water bottle for her overnight bag, aware Whit’s temper had much to do with how much had already been asked of her today. “You’re going to get dressed and I’m going to add a new set of pajamas to your bag. Help Mama, okay? Just for tonight.”
But even as she strode over and added the bottle to the side pocket of Whitney’s purple duffle bag by the door, her daughter’s small voice whipped her back around. “Mama, I want to stay.”
Her heart gave a tight squeeze at Whit’s crumpled expression, and Laila sank to the floor, crossing her legs beneath her.
This moment, right now, was everything she’d never wanted. To pass Whitney onto family as much as she did. To argue over Whitney’s desire for more time in her own home. As much as Laila felt the weight of her looming midnight deadline passing by, she extended her arms out for Whitney to come in for a cuddle.
Her daughter raced over in short, stalking steps, her head dipping into Laila’s shoulder, her small body curling into a ball on Laila’s lap. Laila kissed Whitney’s shampoo scented curls. “Mommy wouldn’t be the same without you, you know that, right?”
Whitney gave a few soft sniffles and nodded, her forehead rubbing against Laila’s neck.
“And I know it’s harder for you to leave the house at the end of the day.” Laila dropped more kisses to Whit’s hair. “It’s not easy being a kid, is it?”
Whitney shook her head, her arms now reaching up to hug Laila back.
Laila responded by squeezing Whit a little tighter, suddenly not so eager to let her leave either. “I’ll cut you a deal. You can stay in whatever you’re wearing now. Would that be easier? Nana and Popo will be happy to see you, no matter what clothes you’re in.”
Whitney giggled, peering up now and quick to clap her hands over Laila’s cheeks in fun. “Even if it was a scuba suit with a tutu over the top?”
Laila giggled. “ Especially if you wore that. And just to sweeten the deal, how about I come over to Nana and Popo’s extra early, and I’ll make everyone French toast to celebrate you helping Mommy get closer to graduating?”
“Can I have chocolate spread on my toast?”
She shifted Whitney, helping her stand and using this conversation to surreptitiously get her nearer to leaving. “Absolutely. What do you think I should have on mine?”
While Whitney thought, Laila rose, pulling the duffle bag off the floor and collecting her purse from a nearby hook.
“Strawberries, maybe?” Seeming to not really notice the walk out the front door, Whitney slipped her hand into Laila’s. “Do you think Nana and Popo have any?”
“Hmmm...” Laila ushered her out the front door and toward the car, each passing second fragile with the possibility Whitney might suddenly change her mind about leaving and the ensuing car ride might be filled with brain-splitting shrieks and demands to return home. “If they don’t, we have bananas on the counter. I could bring them with me in the morning.”
Whitney clambered into her child seat and began pushing her arms through the straps. “Yep. Yep. Bananas and honey. You can have bananas with honey on top, okay, Mommy?”
“Sounds good, kiddo.” Laila dropped the duffle bag onto the floor beneath Whitney’s dangling feet, her heartbeat slowing when she finally clicked Whitney’s seat buckle closed.
Another step closer to getting that assignment finished.
After what felt like hours of coaxing, she sat behind the steering wheel, peering through the center mirror and smiling at Whitney. This would be a long night of cramming information and banging out words, and so she steeled herself with a deep breath and pressed the car’s ignition button.
But the engine failed to start. All she heard was a painful silence. No spluttering. Not a single sign of life. No matter how many times she stabbed at the START button.
Trying to process this new hurdle, she paused her pressing, while a million fears collided within her mind. What if she couldn’t get Whitney to her parents’ house? What if she missed the deadline? What if she failed summer school altogether?
Oh God, the literal cost of failing this course. Plus, the time added to her graduation date if she had to repeat this class…
She cut things close already just doing her usual juggle of being a mom, and a student, and an employee. The pressure of yet another thing to worry about threatened to crush her, but she was a mom, and falling apart was never an option. Especially not while Whitney watched.
So, she took another deep breath and forced a false sense of calm and rationality. She tried the START button one more time. Nothing happened. Nothing except her heart sinking deeper into her chest, but she turned to her daughter playing happily with the stuffed ladybird she’d left in her seat on their last trip in this car. Back when this blasted car actually worked.
Time ticked and Laila produced her usual shuttered expression, digging out her phone from her purse in the passenger seat, and finding something more productive to do beyond panicking.
“Who you calling?”
Of course, like most kids, Whitney had a sharp awareness of when her mom’s phone made an appearance, often wanting to play with the screen or speak with whoever waited on the other end of any calls.
“Just Nana and Popo, but”—she waited for another ring to pass, hoping someone could drive over and pick Whitney up—“seems they don’t have their phones on.”
She hung up and tried not to release an audible sigh. Maybe she could call Ally, but that was an absolute last resort. Her sister was in the throes of moving in with Chip, the first exciting and positive thing to happen to her since her violent tangle with the syndicate. Laila didn’t want to be a bigger drag on her family’s fun than she already was.
But how long until her parents noticed her missed calls, or that Laila was late? They hadn’t made any strict plans on when tonight’s drop-off would occur, so best case scenario, it would be another hour before anyone maybe noticed and called her back, much less drove on over.
A groan worked up her throat, but she clamped her lips together and held onto any sound for her daughter’s sake. No amount of fussing would make any difference, anyway. She’d only stress Whitney out. The car wouldn’t start. Laila would lose a big chunk of study time—if she got any at all—and there stood a strong possibility she’d have to churn through Whitney’s dinner and bedtime routine only to fall short and miss her deadline.
She pressed her forehead to the steering wheel, the frustration and fatigue from this day bearing down on her, though she made a point of keeping silent despite the heat gathering behind her eyes.
“Mommy, are you okay?”
She winced at Whitney’s question and the unconvincing weakness in her tone as she replied, “Yep, all good, honey.”
“Mommy. Look!” Whitney’s sweet voice brightened and the distinctive thud of her bouncing in her seat filled the cabin, along with the sound of a hard tap against Laila’s window. “Adrian came over to say hello.”