Kellan
Chapter Eighteen
By the time I drove home on Friday night after another fourteen-hour day, I was exhausted.
I’d asked Layla about coming over tonight, but she indicated she’d rather come over tomorrow morning.
She seemed to do best in the a.m. hours.
Although I was tired from working so much, I looked forward to having her at my place for the entire weekend.
I could tell she was bored in her apartment.
Who could blame her? She’d gone from working a hectic schedule that included a busy social life to feeling ill and remaining confined to her home.
I sincerely hoped I wasn’t pushing her too much.
I’d been especially worried about showing up for her chemo appointment.
But I’d thought about Chad, who’d chosen his audition over being there with her during her appointment where she’d learned about her cancer.
With that in mind, I felt I had to give her the choice in case she wanted me there.
I needed her to see I was different. To believe I wouldn’t let her down.
My decision had been made after Russ had shared his concern about my being all-in or all-out.
I knew I was all-in, at least when it came to a relationship with Layla.
But I recognized she wasn’t ready yet. All the same, she had agreed to baby steps, and I’d take that.
True, starting a relationship while she was going through cancer treatment presented a whole host of unpredictable challenges, but I was determined to be there for her.
I dialed her now to see how she was feeling.
Her groggy voice came through the speaker on my truck. “Hello.”
“Hi, beautiful. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“It’s okay. Not as if I don’t have all day to sleep tomorrow. What time is it?”
“After eight. How did the removal of the drains go today?” I knew she’d been anxious to have them out.
“Good. I’m so relieved to be rid of those things.”
She’d been getting better every day, but I knew the nights were the worst for her.
“But it’s like my bones are tired.”
“Can I bring you something to eat?” I hadn’t seen her since Tuesday night and found myself missing her. Once again, I was walking a tightrope between wanting to be with her and knowing I had to give her space.
“No, thanks. I had rice and broth for dinner.”
“That’s good.” I stifled my yawn, but evidently not well enough.
“You’re just now heading home from work, aren’t you?”
“Since you weren’t much on company tonight, I figured I’d put in a couple extra hours.”
“Liar.”
Not a very good one, apparently.
“I know you’re trying to make up for the time you lost by going with me Monday and also for when you waited at the hospital during my surgery.”
“I’d do it all over without one ounce of regret. You believe that, right?”
“I do. But maybe this weekend you should rest without me being underfoot.”
“You’re not going to be underfoot. And I’m not resting either way.” I was excited about having her there.
“Promise?”
“Yes. I promise.”
It was apparent Layla was struggling. The disease and its treatment were taking a toll on her self-confidence.
I’d read enough to know that while chemo wreaked havoc on her body it also did a number on her psychological state.
That explained why she was extra sensitive.
Therefore, I tried to navigate delicately.
I wished there was something I could say or do to make it better.
My helplessness was probably the toughest part about being there for her during this struggle.
Knowing I was unable to make it better. But one thing I could do was continue to offer to be there for her, like I had on Monday.
I was happy to do this even if it meant I was pulling doubles to make up for the time off.
“How about I come over tonight?”
“No, no. I’m fine. I’m in bed and not much on company. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Okay. Does eight o’clock work to pick you up?”
“Sounds great. ’Night Kellan.”
“’Night, beautiful.” Although it was tempting to show up anyhow in order to check on her, I stopped myself. I’d see her in the a.m. That would need to be enough.
The next morning, I picked Layla up and we arrived back at my place by eight thirty.
She was eating pancakes by nine. Some of her color had returned, and she seemed to be moving better than she had the other day.
Although I could tell she was far from feeling well, she was definitely a trooper and hardly complained.
At ten o’clock, Jack arrived. He was nineteen and anxious to learn anything he could about the trade.
I couldn’t be happier to have him as part of my crew.
He couldn’t be happier about earning extra money with this side job on the weekend.
Also, since it was only the two of us, I could spend more time with him, teaching him one-on-one.
Watching Jack’s face when he got a look at Layla sitting on the kitchen stool was most entertaining.
“Hi,” he said, wide-eyed.
She gave him a smile. “Hi there. You must be Jack. I’m Layla.”
“It’s meet to nice you. I mean, nice to meet you.” His baby face was beet red, and I couldn’t blame him. If I’d met a woman who looked like her when I was nineteen, I would’ve been tongue-tied, too.
“And it’s nice to meet you, too. I’ll leave you guys to work. I’ll be upstairs.”
“I queued up Breaking Bad. You mentioned wanting to binge watch it.”
“Thank you.” She scooted off her stool and walked over to rinse her dish in the sink. Then, with a small smile and a brief touch to my arm, she made her way slowly up the stairs.
Could I help it if I stared at her ass in those insufferable yoga pants?
Clearly, Jack couldn’t avoid staring, too. He was still bright red.
“So, she’s, um, your girlfriend?”
Oh, boy, how to answer his question? “Working on it.”
“I was wrong to assume the blonde from the construction site was.”
Out of the mouths of babes. I glanced up the stairs, praying his voice hadn’t been loud enough to carry to Layla’s ears.
Jack managed to turn redder. “Sorry, Kellan. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, no. It’s not your fault. But the blonde is definitely not my girlfriend.
” I couldn’t blame the kid for his assumption.
Carly was at the jobsite at every given opportunity and would go out of her way to touch me and flirt.
It was obnoxious and annoying. If the guys were thinking there was something there, I needed to do more than simply ignore her.
The last thing I wanted was for Layla to think I was entertaining the idea of anything with Carly.
“Is Layla a movie star or something?”
I chuckled. “No, but she could be.” Despite fighting cancer, she was still stunning. “Shall we get to work?”
Five hours later we had the floors completely laid on the second floor. The only thing left was the shoe molding, which I’d probably do tomorrow after installing the countertops. I thanked Jack and sent him on his way with cash in hand.
The only time I’d checked on Layla I’d found her napping, but now she was up. She was sitting in my bed with her headphones on repeating Spanish words.
“Hola,” I greeted.
She took off her headphones. “Hola. Hablas espanol?”
“Un poco. Some of the guys I work with are Spanish-speaking, so I’ve picked it up here and there.”
She smiled, setting down the device. “You all finished downstairs?”
“Yep. Hope the noise didn’t wake you.”
“No, it didn’t.”
Oh, so maybe sound didn’t travel well up the stairs. Perhaps she hadn’t caught the quip about Carly being my girlfriend. I decided to test the waters to find out. “Jack thought you might be a movie star.”
She sighed. “So I heard. He seems sweet. Young.”
Shit. She had heard. He’d made the movie star remark after he’d assumed Carly was my girlfriend. “He’s nineteen. Hard worker.” I placed my hand behind my head, gripping my neck and wondering how to approach this. I figured head-on was best. “I take it you heard the other comment.”
“About the blonde being your girlfriend? Yeah. I assume he was talking about Carly?”
Double shit. “She shows up there every day on site. Sometimes multiple times per day.”
“You don’t owe me any explanations.”
I fought my temper. “The hell I don’t. I’m with you, Layla.” Why did I have to fight so hard for her to believe me?
She was shaking her head. “We never discussed exclusivity. You’re free to date other people.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Meaning you want to date other people?”
“Well, you know, the cancer and mastectomy aren’t exactly the best things to put on an online profile these days, so I may have to wait a few months. Unless, of course, there’s a chemo dating site. I should have asked. Maybe it’s called C-date?”
Although she was attempting a joke, I wasn’t laughing.
“I don’t want to date anyone else. And I hate it when Carly shows up on the jobsite.
She flirts, I ignore her. She brings food for the guys.
I ignore her. Repeat. She’s basically got me trapped on this project for the next few months and uses it to her advantage.
If I didn’t need the money to invest back in my business or the reputation I’ll acquire from this job, I would’ve walked away weeks ago.
I only think of one woman in my life—actually three if you count my mom and my sister.
But I guarantee you’re the one who takes up ninety-five percent of my brain.
And I know this: if the roles were reversed and it was you seeing your ex on a daily basis at work, and your coworkers assumed he was your boyfriend, it would drive me insane.
So either you really don’t care, or you’re pretending you don’t.
But I do care, Layla. A lot. I want you to be my girlfriend.
I want to be exclusive. And I want you to want those things, too. ”
Her tears almost brimmed over. “I’m sorry, Kellan. I think you should take me home.”
Fuck. I’d pushed too much. Too hard and too fast. I didn’t know if I was more upset that I hadn’t kept my word about taking baby steps or that she might not be feeling the same way I did.
I scrubbed a hand over my face, at a loss. There was nothing I could do except as she asked. “All right. I’ll let you pack up.”