Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
LILA
This can’t be happening.
Lila’s breath hitched, her heart thundering in her chest as she turned away from the man who had unraveled her with a single glance. The moment she had walked into the room, she had felt him—like a static charge in the air, crackling, waiting to spark. His dark wavy hair, the way he carried himself, that raw, unguarded look on his face—it all reached for something buried deep inside her, something she had locked away so tightly it shouldn’t be able to stir.
And yet, here she was.
She clenched her jaw, hugging Stephanie tightly, clinging to the familiar warmth of her friend as if that alone could keep her from spiraling. She hadn’t seen Stephanie in months, not since she moved away, not since she started over. And yet, one look at him had her slipping, faltering in the resolve she had sworn would never waver.
I’m never going to drink again.
I’m never going to let some man control my life again.
I’m never going to fall in love ever again.
She had built her world around those three promises, bracing herself against their weight because they were the only things that kept her from drowning. It had been easy, really. Simple. She had severed ties with anything that could tempt her, avoided places that whispered of danger, and steered clear of moments that felt like possibilities. Love was something she watched in movies—fictional, distant, safe. It wasn’t for her.
And yet, she had allowed herself one indulgence. One small, innocent thing that hadn’t seemed dangerous at the time.
Louis.
The friend who had kept her company in the dead of night. The one who had made her laugh when she felt like crying, who had listened when she spilled her most humiliating, unfiltered thoughts. The man she had trusted with every broken piece of herself.
And he was standing behind her.
“Lila…” His voice was hoarse, raw in a way that scraped against her heart. “I swear, I had no idea.”
Her breath shuddered out of her.
He can’t be Louis.
He can’t.
“You need to leave,” she whispered, the words barely forming around the lump in her throat. She felt fragile, exposed in a way that made her ache—like an old wound ripped open by the gentlest of touches. He hadn’t laid a hand on her, and yet it felt as though he had shattered something delicate inside her just by being here.
“Please don’t turn away,” he pleaded. There was desperation in his voice, a quiet kind of devastation that made her stomach knot painfully. “I know you’ve got to be thinking the worst right now, but I promise that I didn’t know who you were or that this was anything more than a couple of friends talking.”
She turned sharply, willing herself to be strong, to keep her walls high. But she couldn’t meet his eyes—not when she knew what she would find there. Instead, her gaze caught on his outstretched hand, hovering between them like a bridge neither of them knew how to cross. It was trembling.
If she touched him, she would break.
“If you need me to go, I will,” he said, the words thick with emotion. “But don’t run from me or our friendship. I still want those late-night texts because they make me feel better on the inside. I enjoy talking to you…” His voice trailed off, the unspoken question lingering between them.
Did you enjoy talking to me, too?
She squeezed her arms tighter around herself, a shield against everything she didn’t want to feel. “I’ve enjoyed our texts,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I could have gone on like that forever without… this.”
A pained silence stretched between them.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
“I’m sorry too,” she echoed, then hesitated. “We’re apologizing for something we didn’t have control over.”
“I know.” He let out a low chuckle, but it was frayed at the edges, almost broken. “I feel like I’ve been dumped overboard and told to tread water as long as I can.”
She swallowed against the unexpected sting in her throat. “That’s a pretty good analogy.”
“I suck at swimming,” he added, a breath of laughter escaping him.
“Me too.” She glanced at him, then frowned. “Wait, aren’t all of you in the Navy ?”
He gave her a crooked smile—small, uncertain, and yet devastatingly boyish. “Yeah,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I could text you later this evening and explain about the swimming comment when we’ve both had time to think and cool down… or maybe we could have a cup of coffee and talk now.”
Lila hesitated, her gaze flickering around the room. Her world had tilted, and she wasn’t sure if she could handle it. But standing here, with him watching her like she mattered, like their connection was something worth fighting for felt like a step forward instead of running away.
She exhaled slowly. “Why would he put tinsel on the tables? It’s everywhere.”
His answering laugh was soft, relieved. “Trophy is not the brightest crayon in the box—but his heart is in the right place.”
She glanced at him, something easing in her chest despite the chaos swirling inside her. “Are you the brightest crayon?”
“Heck no,” he said with a nervous chuckle, shifting on his feet. “We said no lies, so I’ll be completely honest with you—I sometimes wonder if I’m even in the box or if someone left my crayon on a hot sidewalk.”
Something inside her cracked, just a little.
She let out a wry laugh, nodding. “I get that too.”
“What’s your crayon color?”
“Crap brown. You?”
“I was thinking more of a mud or tar shade of brown—which could be crap-filled also.”
She sighed, rubbing her hands over her arms. “What a mess.” Her voice was softer this time, almost vulnerable. “And I don’t mean the room.”
“I get it,” he murmured. Then, after a moment, “Why don’t I start the coffee and get out a trash bag?”
She hesitated—one more breath, one more second of doubt. And then she nodded.
“I’ll wash the couch cushion and towel, and start picking up.”
And just like that, they moved forward. Not as strangers, but not as friends either. There was something fragile hanging on between them… not broken, but definitely frightened on both parties. It was a terrifying thought that a friendship that they had built was set upon a firm foundation filled with doubt, fear, and, unfortunately, distrust.
A broken glass would never hold water – and that is what Lila felt like she had right now. A fractured, cracked glass that was her life and would completely shatter under the slightest pressure.
Glancing over her shoulder at the man who had a trash bag, picking up the decorations and neatly stacking the unused plates and forks nearby… she saw him slowly look in her direction, meeting her eyes, and knew without a doubt that he was of the same mindset.
This friendship was doomed long before it had the chance to begin.
The weight of unspoken things filled the space between them, thick as the scent of freshly brewed coffee. Ten minutes had passed in heavy silence, their breaths the only sound beyond the low hum of the washer she’d just started. A small kindness—one less thing for Stephanie to worry about when she got home. Louis finally moved, breaking the stillness, pouring the dark liquid into two cups with careful precision as if the act itself required focus.
“What do you take in your coffee?” His voice was quiet, cautious.
“A smidge of cream and one sugar.”
“A girl after my own heart,” he murmured, a flicker of something lighter crossing his face before he caught himself. He hesitated, shifting his stance. “I meant that casually, Lila. I take mine with just a bit of cream or milk and half a sugar.”
She met his gaze, something fragile lingering in the air between them. “I wasn’t taking it the wrong way. We’re just talking about coffee, and that’s it.”
“I know.” He exhaled, the faintest hint of a self-conscious smile playing at his lips. “But I’m also afraid to put my foot in my mouth.”
“It doesn’t feel good.”
“Oh, I’ve certainly done it before.” He chuckled, but the sound was softer, carrying something unspoken beneath it. He handed her a cup, their fingers nearly brushing before she pulled away first. “Several times, in fact.”
His next words were almost hesitant. “Do you want to sit on the couch—where it doesn’t have baby fluid?” He grimaced before quickly adding, “Or maybe at the table.”
“The table,” she decided, pausing just a fraction too long. The distance between them mattered.
She turned toward the counter, reaching for something that felt safe. “I’m stealing a cupcake to go with my coffee. Want one?”
“Please,” he said, a hint of something grateful in his voice. “I’ve got a huge sweet tooth that I try to keep contained normally, but I think I need the sugar right now.”
“Feeding the trauma?”
His expression turned wry. “Is it wrong to admit it?”
“Heck no.” She forced a small, wry grin, though her heart felt heavier than before. “I’m contemplating having a chocolate cupcake and a vanilla one to shut that anxiety down.”
“No judgment from my end.” His chuckle was quiet, almost conspiratorial, as he grabbed the box from the counter and placed it between them on the table—deliberate, firm, a tangible barrier and an offering all at once. “Dinner is served.”
“Oh, man…” Her laugh was more breath than sound, nerves threading through it. The box between them felt like a line neither of them was ready to cross. “Don’t tempt me.”
They sat in the quiet, the air between them thick with the weight of everything unsaid. Lila stole glances at Louis, trying to reconcile the man before her with the one she’d come to know through late-night messages and easy, effortless banter. He had been her comfort when she let her past slip through carefully guarded cracks, his words a steady hand even from miles away. But here, in the hush of this moment, he was something more—solid, real, close enough to touch.
She watched as he reached for another cupcake, the motion absentminded, almost like armor.
Then he met her gaze.
“My anxiety is still talking,” he admitted, the words soft, an almost apology as he took a bite. “Time to shut him up—again.”
Her heart clenched at the quiet vulnerability in his voice, at the way he carried his own battles like she did, unseen but always present.
“You don’t have to justify it,” she murmured, offering the smallest of smiles, something fragile and real. “If there was carrot cake, I would be disgracing myself.”
He stilled mid-bite, and for a breath, something shifted between them. The openness in his eyes was disarming, as if, in that instant, they weren’t just trading words but trust.
“I would love carrot cake—wanna go with me to grab one?”
“Seriously?”
His expression turned unexpectedly earnest, as if this moment, this invitation, meant more than just cake. He put the cupcake down, leveling her with an intensity that made her breath catch.
“Now hang on,” he said, his voice firm but warm, an edge of playful seriousness threading through. “A few ground rules because we don’t joke about cake, and I can’t believe we haven’t texted about this before.”
“I can’t either…”
His brows lifted as if that confirmed some deep, unspoken truth between them.
“First of all—carrot cake should be cold. Like, really cold cream cheese frosting cold… make-your-teeth-hurt kinda cold.”
“Oh, I agree… and it should have cold raisins in it.”
“Hallelujah… and pecans.”
She tilted her head, watching the way he spoke as if this was sacred, the way his eyes lit up in a way she hadn’t seen before.
“Is it even carrot cake without pecans, raisins, and strings of carrot?” she asked, her voice softer now as if this wasn’t just about cake but something deeper.
“Nope,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “Then it’s just bland spice cake. It has to be the good stuff.”
“Oh, amen…”
He held her gaze, something unspoken passing between them—something safe, something grounding. And then, his voice dipped into something teasing, but there was still that undercurrent of truth.
“And if one of us gets a sugar high or pukes, no one takes photos or mocks the other person.”
She arched a brow. “Has someone done that to you?”
His lips twisted into a grimace. “I’m a water guzzler when I eat too much cake, and someone thought it was funny to take a photo of me on my last ship. I downed a gallon of water, felt woozy, and had to hang my head between my legs for a bit to keep from passing out…”
“Louis!”
“Oh, I know—and then I gagged upside down,” he shivered visibly, and she laughed, the sound breaking free like something long locked away.
“Do you know how hard that is?” he continued, animated now, caught in the memory. “Your nose burns…”
She clutched her stomach, wiping at her eyes, the laughter unraveling something tight inside her as he stood, pointing at his head, demonstrating with a seriousness that only made it funnier.
“There’s pressure on your skull, your teeth and sinuses hurt, and then it’s like pushing up your esophagus… and it was once cake! But that’s not cake coming back up, Lila…”
She could barely breathe through the laughter, through the warmth curling through her chest. And then, just as effortlessly, he straightened and held out his hand—steady, patient, waiting.
“Wanna go eat carrot cake with me until we’re sick?”
Her laughter faded, her pulse stumbling at the way he looked at her—not just with amusement, but with something softer, something that settled deep.
“Let’s leave the dry cupcakes here for the new parents,” Louis said, his voice quieter now, almost unsure. “And I know of a bakery nearby that is supposed to be amazing.”
Her fingers trembled just slightly as she placed her hand in his as if stepping into something unknown but safe.
“No tricks…”
“No tricks, no lies, no judgment, nothing…” His fingers curled around hers, warm and steady. “Just you and me.”
She swallowed back her anxiety and her fear and imagined the screen of her cell phone with his words texted to her. Behind the screen, he wasn’t a threat, but this handsome man beside her felt like one.
“Are you okay?” he asked gently, holding the front door open for her. “We don’t have to go…”
“I want to, I’m just nervous,” she admitted. “I’m… I, uh, I could use something to distract me.”
“Fair enough,” he smiled gently at her. “What if I upped the ante?”
“What do you mean?”
“How about we sit on the beach, do nothing but talk about anything and everything… and we sacrifice that carrot cake,” he offered, his hazel eyes sparkling like a child’s at Christmas. “Does committing the sin of gluttony with your friend sound appealing?”
“Heaven help me, it does,” she chuckled, feeling a flicker of something within her as his smile widened and he clasped her hand a little tighter, leading her down the stairs from the apartment toward a car nearby.
The car was like him, unassuming and quiet… but nice. Man, what would that be like to have a little ‘nice’ in her life? She thought silently as she took a seat in the passenger side of the car. He walked around to the other side, sat down, and paused, looking at her.
“You’re okay – because I never want to push you into something you aren’t comfortable with.”
“I appreciate that,” she nodded quietly. “Cake, conversation, and a view of the beach sounds like the perfect Florida vacation while I’m waiting for my friend to deliver her baby.”
“Would you like me to take you by the hospital later?”
“Would you mind?”
“Not at all,” he said simply, smiling. “If I minded, I wouldn’t have offered.”
She smiled as he started the car.
Thirty minutes later, they were sitting in the sand, her slacks rolled up, and he did the same with his jeans. They were sitting on the edge of the water, just out of reach of the surf for now… with a small six-inch carrot cake between them that looked like a toddler had mangled it. Both were eating, taking bites, savoring the taste, and making small talk once again.
“Okay,” he chuckled shyly, his cheeks turning slightly red as he glanced at her. “This is officially the best date-that-is-not-a-date that I’ve ever been on. Carrot cake intro should be a law somewhere…”
She laughed easily, pushing her hair back from her face as she scooped up another bite, not answering him, before pointing at him with her dirty fork – “Drink some water so you don’t guzzle it…”
“Mmm,” he nodded, swallowing his own bite. “Good idea.”
The seagulls were circling nearby, looking for a chance to swoop in and steal a bite, a morsel, or the entire remnants of the cake, and honestly, this was probably the best moment she’d had in forever. It was like the sunshine and sea breeze off the ocean were soothing her soul in a way she never expected.
“This is amazing…” she began softly, not bothering to look at him as he lowered the large jug of water he’d purchased with the cake. “I look out there, and there’s nothing, but instead of feeling alone or hopeless… I feel wonder, amazement, curiosity and it’s nice.”
“I love the ocean,” he replied quietly beside her. “I could watch the waves for hours and every time we go to a new port, a new location, I always try to put my feet in the water. Does that sound silly? Water is water, but there is a difference in my mind, my heart, and my soul. I feel like I’m connecting with the world by doing something so simple.”
“No, I like it – and I understand,” she said, digging up another bite of cake. “When I was a little girl, my parents used to take us to the park with paper grocery sacks and we’d pick up pecans off the ground, then spread a blanket, and just lie there in the shade. It was just you, the breeze, and the sunshine.”
“I bet it was nice.”
“It was, Louis,” she admitted, glancing at him. “Where did you grow up? I don’t think I’ve ever asked you.”
“Just outside of Alexandria,” he tossed her a small smile and dug at another bite. “My family is originally from Canada, but my mom wanted to relocate when I was younger. I had an aunt down in Louisiana who’d married, cousins, and it was nice to grow up in a small town, but time gets away from you, you know? You lose touch sometimes. My cousin lives in Texas now with her husband and kids. Trophy is from there, too. We went on leave once about a year ago, me, Ohio, and Trophy – and man, it’s not like I remember it. My parent’s house, which I thought was so nice growing up, is actually a small little thing with clapboard siding,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Mom insists on letting these mimosa trees grow and those pink fluffballs stick to everything when they start to fall…”
He rolled his eyes, chuckling.
“Trophy has this younger sister who was annoying as could be – with the biggest crush on Ohio, but the man is not interested in the slightest. He would rather keep the peace with his friend than ruin things.”
“I get that. I’d want peace, too. Relationships are hard. They bring out the best and worst of people, and usually fall apart…”
“I don’t think that is true,” he said quietly, looking at her. “My parents have been married for thirty-five years and adore each other. I think when it’s the right person, and someone is ready, you find a way to make it work because you can’t imagine life without that other person.”
Lila couldn’t look at him, and the bite of cake in her mouth was awfully hard to swallow as her throat tightened.
“My parents are best friends and do everything together… and I guess that’s what I’m hoping for myself someday,” he said quietly. “I never dated much because I didn’t feel that friendship, that bond, and it’s hard to explain. I know not every friendship turns into more because I’ve got friends on the ship, and we’re pretty easy together, but I hope someday that I find my person.”
And Lila looked at his profile, a little stunned at how he just casually lumped her in with his group of friends on the ship – but wasn’t that what she wanted? She didn’t want this to be romantic because she told herself she was never falling in love again.
“My parents fought a lot,” she breathed, turning to face the water once more. “I remember growing up, and they argued all the time over money. We were pretty poor when I was younger, and I was clueless just like any other child…”
“Oh, I get that…” he laughed softly.
“I wanted a new Barbie, a new bike, braces, a car… and I look back now realizing that they did everything for me, gave me everything, and I don’t know how they did it truthfully…”
“I think a parent finds a way somehow – and I think it’s amazing that Trophy and Stephanie are going to get to experience that.”
“Me too.”
“We should do this again before you leave for wherever you live at in Louisville,” he tossed out easily, looking at her carefully, but a smirk touched his lips. “Don’t tell me because we have to keep some secrets, right?”
“Wrong,” she replied quietly, meeting his eyes. “I think I can trust you.”
“I hope so,” he said in a hushed voice, holding her gaze. “If I ever bother you, just tell me to back off, and we’re good.”
She nodded and pointed at the cake, frowning.
“I think I’m done.”
“Me too,” he offered. “Do you want to sit here a little longer?”
“Do you mind?”
“Nah, this is heaven to me.”
“Me too,” she sighed, and he scooted a little closer, patting his shoulder easily – and to her surprise, she rested her head against it like it was nothing. They sat there for another hour, silent, yet together.