Ch. 45 – Layla
A s the garage door closed behind Layla’s SUV, she suddenly found she couldn’t muster the energy to move. Everything hit her at once, like a web of lightning strikes.
Princess.
Mrs. Moffat.
Prem.
Dr. Goldman had performed hundreds, maybe thousands of euthanasias during his decades at All Paws and Claws. Even Prem had already done a handful in his short tenure running the clinic. But this had been the first time Layla had ever seen one in person.
It’d been heart-wrenching but also strangely cathartic to watch Princess be released from her broken, frail body. The procedure had also been surprisingly peaceful. Maybe it was Layla’s imagination, but she could have sworn Princess understood in some way what was happening and that she was grateful.
Layla was grateful, too, for Prem. He’d been strong and gentle. Loving and resolute. And when they’d embraced… Layla shivered as her mind returned to that moment. She felt Prem’s strong arms around her again, the heat of his body warming her, his heart syncing with hers. They’d shared something in that embrace beyond just the physical. It’d felt like their souls had touched, forever welded together by the honor of bearing witness to Princess’s passing.
For the first time in weeks, Layla had felt light. Cared for. Protected.
Something flickered to life low in her belly. Something hot and powerful. Unicorn sparkles. Layla’s eyes snapped open, and her hands tightened on the wheel. Intently, she snuffed out each and every sparkle.
I’m with Cal, she reminded herself fiercely. Didn’t matter if she hadn’t felt a single unicorn sparkle for him since taking him back. Slinging her purse over her shoulder, Layla dragged herself into the house.
She paused in the kitchen, her gaze sweeping over the granite countertops, the massive island, the black matte cabinets with their tastefully modern pulls. For a moment, she felt like she was standing in one of those model homes they show you when they’re building a new subdivision. Everything about the house felt designed for show rather than life and comfort.
Layla shook her head. This strange feeling of not belonging in her own home hit her every few days since she’d moved back in. It’ll fade with time, she told herself without much enthusiasm. You’ll get used to this house again.
She found her fiancé in the living room, a glass of whiskey at his elbow, a baseball game blaring on the massive television.
Cal wasn’t paying attention to the game. He held his phone in both hands, eyes intent on the screen. His head snapped up as Layla sank down next to him.
“Hey, Babe.” He leaned over and placed a perfunctory kiss on her lips. “I just got home a half hour ago. Thought I had a late night, but you beat me.”
“We had to put an animal to sleep,” Layla murmured.
“Oh, Rapunzel, I’m so sorry.” Cal gathered her in his arms. “That must have been hard.”
Layla closed her eyes and breathed in the heavy scent of his clove and leather cologne. This was nice. Cal’s arms were strong, and his whiskey breath played across her cheek. But why couldn’t she quite fully relax? Why were no unicorn sparkles winking to life in her belly?
“I’m starving,” Cal said over her head. “I was hoping you’d have dinner ready when I got home.”
Layla’s eyes popped open.
“But you were busy, obviously.” Cal laughed.
Layla looked over to the empty kitchen. Had he even considered starting dinner for them?
“Well, I’ll just order us some pizza. How about that?” Cal continued. “I’ll even get half-cheese, so you don’t have to pick off the pepperoni and sausage.”
“Thank you,” Layla answered gratefully. She didn’t have the strength to do anything tonight except curl up on the couch next to Cal until it was time to drag herself to bed.
Cal bent over his phone and pulled up a food-ordering app. Layla stared at the television without paying attention to the game. Instead, her mind floated back to what had just happened at the clinic.
“Pizza’s ordered. I got extra cheese on yours.” Cal rubbed her arm and laughed, his voice hitching. Layla refocused on her fiancé. He seemed nervous, and whiskey hung heavy on his breath. He’d said he’d only been home a half hour. How much had he drunk in that time?
Cal finished the last of the amber liquid in his glass. He jumped up and crossed to the wet bar, where he pulled the stopper off one of his more expensive bottles.
“So, look, I know this is, uh, crappy timing, but there’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” he said without looking at her. “It’s, uh, pretty important.”
Garbo hopped on the couch, head-butted Layla’s thigh, and plopped herself in Cal’s spot.
“Okay,” Layla said hesitantly as she watched Cal pour three fingers of whiskey into his glass. The last thing she wanted tonight was to wade through a deep conversation with Cal, but something was obviously on his mind. No matter how tired she felt, Layla still needed to be a good partner to her fiancé and future husband.
“Actually, I’ve invited someone over,” Cal said. “She just texted me that she’s here.”
“What?” Layla’s pulse quickened. Someone was coming over? Tonight of all nights? And Cal was just mentioning this now ? “Does this have something to do with the wedding?”
They’d both been running ragged in their free time to get the event back on track. It was less than a month away, and Layla wasn’t sure how they’d get everything ready in time.
Cal turned, drink in hand, and gave her a teasing smile. “Maybe.”
A soft knock sounded at the front door. Cal practically sprinted into the foyer, paused, then returned to the living room where he set down his drink and turned off the baseball game. Layla watched with growing unease as he wiped his hands on his slacks then marched back into the foyer.
Layla stood and took cautious steps to the edge of the living room. Why did she suddenly feel like the ditzy blonde in a horror movie? Like there might just be a chainsaw-wielding clown on the other side of the door ready to carve her into pieces?
As Cal turned the knob, Layla wanted to scream, Don’t!
Instead, she watched mutely as Cal swung open the door revealing a slender figure on the other side.
Not a chainsaw-wielding clown.
So much worse.
“Babe!” The young woman sang and threw her arms around Cal’s neck. She tried to kiss Cal, but he turned his head so that her lips met his cheek.
Layla’s heart stopped. Froze into a solid block of ice and thunked to the bottom of her rib cage.
She didn’t know Breanna personally—had only seen her occasionally at The Rose and Thorn when Breanna had been dating Theo—but Layla recognized her immediately.
Hard to forget the face of the other woman.
Breanna looked as beautiful as ever. More so, actually, as if she’d made a special effort. Her face was powdered, her eyes done up with mascara and perfect wing tips. Her dirty-blonde hair floated across her shoulders in thick waves, and she wore a skimpy white dress that showed off her honey skin and shapely legs.
She looked so happy. She released Cal and gazed around the house. “This place is beautiful. I’ve wanted to see it for so long.”
“I’m glad you came,” Cal answered.
“I love these muted colors,” Breanna gushed. “How many rooms does this—” Her eyes landed on Layla. Her voice croaked.
In spite of everything, Layla almost smiled at that.
“What’s she doing here?” Breanna hissed at Cal.
Layla wanted to ask the same thing, but she couldn’t speak. The ice spread out from her heart, slowly encasing her in a frozen shell. Before her legs stopped working, she managed to walk stiffly to the breakfast bar and drop onto a stool.
“Come here, I’ll explain.” Cal took Breanna’s hand and led her into the living room. He set her gently on the couch, in Layla’s spot, then pushed Garbo out of his spot before taking his seat.
“Look, I know this is a shock to you both,” he began, “but I knew neither of you would come if I’d warned you beforehand.”
“Cal, what’s happening?” Breanna’s voice trembled. She threw quick, horrified glances at Layla, cringing each time their eyes met. “You said things were over between you and Layla.”
Layla almost choked.
Cal frowned. “No, I’m sure I didn’t say that. Maybe you were only hearing what you wanted to hear.” He looked around and picked up his glass of whiskey. “Layla and I have been together for 10 years. She’s my fiancé. She’s going to be my wife. I love her.”
Breanna stood abruptly from the couch. “But you said you loved me!”
“I do, Babe,” Cal answered. He stood and reached for Breanna, but she stepped back.
Layla watched the scene from her frozen perch. The ice around her grew thicker and thicker, walling her off from the scene playing out in front of her.
“I don’t understand!” Breanna’s voice grew louder. She wobbled in gorgeous black stilettos that looked like they were pinching her feet.
“Okay, yeah, so please…” Cal seemed to remember the glass in his hand and threw back a heavy gulp. “I just need you both to listen.”
He turned to Layla. “I wasn’t lying when I said that our relationship was getting a little… stale. I love you, Layla, with all my heart, but things just aren’t as…let’s say, passionate as I’d like.”
Tears gathered in Layla’s eyes and froze to icicles in her tear ducts.
“As in, you’re not getting laid enough?” Breanna accused. Where Layla’s soul was dipping into sub-zero temperatures, Breanna’s gaze grew hot. Embers of fury seemed to spark off her.
“And that’s where you come in,” Cal said, swinging to her. “Ladies, I’d like to propose an open relationship.”
A choked laugh escaped Breanna’s lips. If looks could incinerate, Cal would be nothing more than a pile of ash on the floor.
Cal seemed either oblivious to the reactions of both women or intent on forcefully ignoring them.
“It was wrong of me to cheat on you,” he said, turning his attention again to Layla. “I realize that now. I was an idiot. I should have been honest and brought you into the relationship from the very beginning.”
He switched his gaze to Breanna, the whiskey rocking in his glass as he twisted toward her. “I know how much you hated being the other woman. I should’ve never put you in that position.” He smiled at her. “Now, we won’t have to sneak around anymore. We can all be together.”
Layla had once swooned over that smile he wore. Now, if her esophagus weren’t frozen, she would’ve puked.
“And if you two, you know, want to do your own thing together, that’s fine by me,” Cal added. His eyebrows danced.
Layla watched as Breanna’s ruby red nails curled into her palms. Her knuckles turned white.
“Now, look, we obviously don’t have to try anything tonight… unless you want to,” Cal looked at Laya, then Breanna. “Okay, nothing tonight, but I wanted to put the idea out there. Let’s take some time to get used to this. Maybe we can go out to dinner this weekend, come back here, have some wine, and see where the night takes us.” His smile widened, and he opened his arms. “What do you say?”
Breanna laughed again, the sound bursting out of her, rough and uncontrolled. Her shoulders shook. She slapped a hand over her mouth.
“Uh, not exactly the reaction I was going for,” Cal said, his lips turning down.
“I was such a fucking idiot,” Breanna said between gasping breaths. She tottered to the couch and picked up her tiny purse. “I thought you actually loved me.”
“I do love you, Bunny,” Cal insisted.
“I thought you were going to leave Layla. How stupid could I have been?” Breanna continued to laugh, though it was starting to sound more like sobs. “I’m a stereotype. I’m that girl.”
She looked at Layla, and this time she didn’t flinch. Fire burned in her pupils. “He’s all yours,” she spat.
She turned and stormed toward the foyer.
“Breanna,” Cal called, making to follow.
“Fuck off, Cal!” she hollered.
Layla heard the door wrench open, then slam shut.
A few moments later, Cal returned to the living room frowning. He shook his head, seemingly equally perplexed and pissed as he leaned against the breakfast bar in front of Layla.
“I didn’t think she’d be so close-minded.” He placed a hand on her thigh. “You were actually the one I was worried about.”
Layla stared at his hand, at his manicured fingers making light indents into her skin. Cal’s touch triggered something inside of her. The casing of ice around her body began to tremble, then crack.
But it wasn’t ice.
It’d never been ice.
It was a shell. A chrysalis.
And within its confines, Layla had changed.
Transformed.
Cracks ran through the chrysalis. It shivered again, then burst into thousands of sparkling pieces.
A new Layla emerged.
“Don’t worry.” Cal patted her thigh. “I’ll keep my eyes open for someone else. There’s a receptionist at the dealership. Her face isn’t the best, but her body, whoa. She’s a D cup at least. Maybe a double D. Let me make some subtle inquiries.”
Layla picked up Cal’s hand and tossed it away from her.
“Hey, Babe,” Cal said, stepping back.
Layla stood. “You were still seeing her.”
“What?” Cal straightened up.
“After I confronted you,” Layla clarified for him. “While you were begging me to come back and love bombing me with flowers and candy and diamond tennis bracelets. Even during these last two weeks that we’ve been together. You were still seeing Breanna.”
“I told you,” Cal tried to explain. “I wanted an open relationship.”
“I see.” The old Layla would have broken at his words, convinced that she wasn’t a good enough woman for him. The new Layla absolutely believed she was more than enough.
“And when you threatened to kill yourself if I didn’t take you back,” she continued. “That was a lie, too, wasn’t it?” She stared into Cal’s eyes, daring him to contradict her.
“I meant it metaphorically,” he answered carefully. “I can’t live without you, Rapunzel.”
The new Layla smiled at that. For the first time, she saw Cal for the person he truly was. The person he’d always been. Over the years, she’d become a master of overlooking his flaws, excusing them away, or taking his failings on as her own.
Not anymore.
“Babe, say something,” Cal reached for her.
Alanna would have slapped the man. No, she’d have soaked his balls in gasoline and laughed as she lit the match.
Maybe that’s what Cal deserved, but Layla couldn’t hate anyone. Not even him.
Course, that didn’t mean she had to make the man’s life easy. She walked into the kitchen and braced herself against the sink.
“Cal, you don’t know what love is,” Layla told him. “And I pity you for that.”
She gently pulled the massive engagement ring off her finger — six carats, $20,000, ugly as H-E-double hockey sticks — and dropped it into the garbage disposal.
“Don’t you fucking—” Cal warned.
Layla flipped the switch, and the garbage disposal growled to life.
Cal turned into an Olympic sprinter as he lunged into the kitchen. Layla walked stiffly past him.
Over the horrible, wrenching noise of the garbage disposal, she said, “I’ll pack my things and the animals tomorrow while you’re at work. And I’m keeping my car.”
The garbage disposal turned off. Cal looked down at the sink and then at her. “You bitch!”
Layla gave him her sweetest smile. “Fuck off, Cal.”
She shouldered her purse, grabbed her keys, and walked out of his godforsaken life forever.