Chapter 37 Layla
Layla knew from listening to true crime podcasts that a late-night visitor was never a good thing – especially during a storm.
As rain lashed the windows and wind howled deafeningly, the buzz of Layla’s intercom made her clutch the book she was reading to her chest. When the intercom rang for a second time, Layla shook the fear away.
You live on the fourth floor, relax , she reassured herself as she stood to answer the call.
‘Hello?’ she said into the intercom.
‘Layla? Can I come up? I need you.’
Layla didn’t need to ask who it was, or what was going on.
The tremor in Angus’s voice was enough for her to buzz him into the building without another word.
Stuffing a pair of trainers onto her feet, Layla left her apartment to reach Angus quicker.
She rushed to the lift, watching the numbers climb.
Then, when the doors opened, Layla simply opened her arms.
Angus’s body sagged into hers. The sudden weight nearly knocked Layla off her feet, but she planted herself firmly and held him like it was the last hug they would ever share.
‘Are you okay?’ Layla whispered, but when Angus’s response was an unsteady breath, she realised it wasn’t the time for questions. ‘Come on,’ she said, weaving her arm around his waist. ‘Come with me.’
Layla led Angus to her apartment. The cosy nights they had shared there flashed before her eyes, but Layla knew tonight wasn’t going to involve jokes over wine or teasing her lack of culinary skills.
Before Angus collapsed with distress, Layla peeled the damp coat from his shoulders. ‘Sit,’ she instructed, taking the coat and resting it over that back of a dining chair.
Stemming her worry as best she could, Layla joined Angus and laced her fingers through his. When she felt how cold he was, she gasped. Using her other hand, Layla brushed her fingers over Angus’s skin, willing it to warm.
Slowly, Layla dragged her eyes to Angus’s face, gulping at what she saw.
His skin was pale. His eyes were vacant.
Damp hair feathered over his forehead, drops of rain dripping from the tips.
Layla’s fingers itched to brush them away, but that would mean letting go of his hand, something Layla couldn’t bring herself to do.
‘Do you need a drink?’ she asked.
‘I’m not sure getting drunk is a good idea,’ Angus replied hoarsely.
‘I meant water.’
‘Water’s not strong enough.’
Something in Angus’s voice scared Layla. Inching closer, she squeezed his hand.
‘What is it, Angus?’ Layla pressed. ‘What’s happened?’
For the longest time, Angus could only stare at their intertwined fingers, but then he spoke. ‘My mother has cancer.’
Shock overcame Layla. Her mouth twitched to find words, but no sound came out.
‘Gilly… She’s in hospital with an infection,’ Angus continued. ‘I’ve just been to see her. Sat there for over two hours, and not once did she wake up. She’s on so many meds, they’ve knocked her out. She… she looked so small, Layla. My mother’s never looked small before.’
As emotion splintered Angus’s voice, Layla went to speak, but he cut her off.
‘She’s had ovarian cancer for the last few months. Stage two. She’s been secretly getting treatment and didn’t want me to know. She didn’t think I could handle it, apparently.’
‘Oh, Angus,’ Layla breathed, but her distress only lit an angry fire within him.
‘What kind of person, what kind of mother, discovers news this big and keeps it from her child?’ Angus sounded angry, but his jagged breathing betrayed the pain he felt.
‘I’m sure she had her reasons,’ Layla soothed, but Angus shook his head.
‘I’m her son, Layla. Her son. I deserve to know if she’s sick. I deserve the chance to be there for her. That’s all I’d have wanted to do, you know. I’d have gone to appointments. I’d have taken her food. I’d have… I’d have…’
As the enormity of all the things he was trying to say crushed Angus, he bowed his head and pulled away.
The move was gut-wrenching. Layla watched Angus rest his elbows on his knees and clasp his hands together.
The rigidity of his stance appeared impossible to break, but Layla couldn’t let him shut off without a fight.
Moving forward, she reached for Angus’s hand once more. Gratefully, he accepted it.
‘I know this can’t be easy for her, but she’s my mother,’ he croaked, tightening his hold on Layla’s hand while he spoke. ‘How could she not tell me? Her not trusting me hurts almost as much as knowing what’s going on.’
‘I’m sure it’s nothing to do with how much she trusts you,’ Layla began, but Angus shook his head.
‘It’s exactly that. A person doesn’t find out something like this and not tell their loved ones. What, was she just going to die one day and expect me to be okay with it? Was I meant to accept the fact that she’d known it was coming all along, but kept it from me?’
One of Angus’s tears splashed the side of Layla’s hand, making her flinch. As it trailed down her skin, guilt trickled down Layla’s spine.
Gilly wasn’t the only one keeping shattering secrets from Angus – Layla was doing the same thing. Her death date was another secret, another lie. The shame of what she’d withheld winded Layla so brutally she had to look away from Angus.
‘Clearly I’m not the son she wants by her side through this,’ Angus continued. ‘She probably wishes I’d died, not Hugo.’
‘Angus,’ Layla gasped. ‘Don’t say that! Your mother loves you.’
‘You don’t keep a secret like this from someone you love. That’s not what love is.’
‘Angus, love is lots of things,’ Layla protested, but Angus shook his head.
‘No, Layla. I know what love is. I know it from…’ As Angus trailed off, his eyes locked on Layla.
Her heart leapt into her throat. She waited for him to finish his sentence, but Layla didn’t need to hear the words.
She could see it in his eyes. It was all there, laid out bare for her: fear, sadness and desire.
So much desire.
Angus leant in further, leaning his forehead against Layla’s and breathing deeply. Sense told her to pull away, but Layla found she couldn’t. Here, she could almost feel Angus’s mouth on hers. Almost taste him. Everything she wanted was right in front of her.
There was no point denying it. There had been no point in denying it for a long time: love was what Layla felt for Angus. Love was all she would ever feel for Angus.
The tilt of his head professed Angus’s intentions before he moved. His breathing slowed as he leaned in, waiting for Layla to meet him halfway. Caught in the trance of the moment, Layla moved closer. Just one kiss , her body begged. One taste … but Layla couldn’t give in. Not like this.
Drawing back, Layla untangled herself from Angus. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ she whispered. ‘You’re upset. You’re—’
‘Of course,’ Angus said, stiffening. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cross a line. I know friends is all you want us to be. I’m sorry.’
‘It’s okay,’ Layla replied, resting her hand on Angus’s arm even though touching him cracked her heart. ‘Really, it’s okay.’
But no matter what Layla said, she knew nothing about the situation was okay. Thanks to her death date, it never would be.