Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Delaney
Iyelp and nearly pee my pants when a little sprite dressed in a ballet tutu jumps out from around the corner.
“Surprise!” she yells.
Yes. Most definitely a surprise.
Layla Aron bursts into a fit of giggles. It might be the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen.
Seconds later, her mom, Tillie, follows with a sleeping toddler in her arms.
“I’m so sorry. When she said she wanted to surprise you, I didn’t think she meant literally jumping out and screaming ‘surprise.’”
I smile and nod, still catching my breath. “It’s okay. Nobody peed their pants. Almost, but not quite.”
Tillie chuckles, and for some reason, I’m almost completely at ease around her.
“Mom, Delaney is my friend,” Layla announces. “I’m here to see her.”
“Well, she can be my friend too,” Tillie says with a gentle smile. “She doesn’t have to be just your friend.”
Layla eyes her mom with skepticism for a few seconds while twirling a long piece of her curly blonde hair. Then, she grins.
“Okay, but she was my friend first.”
“That’s okay,” Tillie replies. “She can be both of our friends. She can even be Lena’s friend.”
Layla twists the side of her mouth and pops her hip out, sassily planting her hand on it.
“Mom, Lena can’t have friends yet. She still poops her pants. You don’t get to have friends if you poop your pants.”
I cover my mouth, trying hard not to laugh out loud. There’s no question Layla’s logic makes perfect sense—to her.
“I’m not sure that’s how it works, Ladybug,” Tillie says. It’s clear she’s fighting a smile that’s trying to escape.
“It is, Mommy. She stinks sometimes. You can’t have friends when you smell like poop. Nobody wants to be friends if you’re a smelly belly.” She shrugs.
“Oh? Is that how it goes, then?” Tillie asks.
“Yeah. That’s why I brush my teeth two times every day now.
Daddy said if I didn’t, my breath would stink and I wouldn’t have friends.
Well… he didn’t say I wouldn’t have friends, but he said my breath would smell bad, and I know you don’t have friends when you’re like that.
He said I’d have halley… halley toes is. ”
“Oh, he did, did he?”
“He did. When I was”—she pauses and scratches her head—“four. Yeah, it was before you was my mommy.”
Tillie glances over at me and smiles before looking back down at her daughter.
“Okay,” Tillie says, chuckling. She turns to me. “So, we’re actually here for a reason. Not just to see Henry.”
“Wait! Let me tell her, ‘kay?” Layla’s practically bouncing with excitement, then walks around my desk and hands me an envelope.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“You gotta open it and see, silly.”
“Okay… Should I open it now?”
“Yep!”
“Nothing’s gonna jump out at me, right? No spiders? No clowns?”
“Delaney! A clown can’t fit in there. A spider could, but I don’t touch spiders ‘cause they give me the heebie jeebies.”
I can’t help but laugh. I’m pretty sure there’s no one alive who could be around this kid and not feel joy.
“Okay. I’m gonna trust you on this.”
I glance up at Tillie and catch her watching us with an amused expression, then I open the envelope and pull out an invitation.
‘You’re invited,’ it reads on the front.
Inside, there’s a message written in what I assume is Layla’s handwriting:
Please come to my laydees nite at my house on Saturday.
Your friend,
Layla Aron.
I stare down at the card for a few seconds and swallow past the lump in my throat. I can’t remember the last time someone invited me somewhere. It’s probably been years, maybe even before this sweet child was born.
I force myself to turn my focus back to the moment at hand.
“Oh, wow. You’re inviting me to ladies’ night?”
Layla nods fervently, her eyes shining bright.
“We’re gonna eat snacks and do nails, and I’m gonna have grape juice.
Mommy and Georgie—she’s my Uncle Heath’s bestie, and she’s a girl even though her name is Georgie—they’ll have adult grape juice.
Oh, and Ruthie and Sally and all the grown-up ladies will be there.
Then we might play Go Fish or Old Maid and have a good time. With no boys.”
“Well, that sounds delightful.” I glance at Tillie.
“But don’t feel pressured.” Tillie raises a hand. “I know. That’s rich coming from me after I let my six-year-old bombard you.”
“What does bombard mean, Mommy?”
“Don’t worry about it, Ladybug. But remember, I told you—this is late notice, so it’s okay if Delaney already has plans and can’t come, right?”
“Yeah… but I’ll be sad.” Layla looks at me with wide eyes. “You don’t want me to be sad, do you, Delaney?”
She tries to wink at me, but her little eye just twitches. I have to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing.
“I would never want you to be sad. What time is it at?” I ask.
“Six o’clock,” Tillie answers.
“But if you wanna come at five o’clock, we could play dolls in my room!” Layla’s face lights up.
“Well, I’ve got something to do in the afternoon, but if it’s okay for me to come at six, I’d love to.”
“Yes!” Layla jumps up and down and squeals, which draws Henry out of his office.
“Is that my little girl?” he says, strolling over and kissing Tillie on the cheek and Lena on the top of her head. Then he scoops up Layla and tickles her, setting off another round of giggles. “How’s my favorite six-year-old?”
“I’m good, Daddy. Delaney’s gonna come to my party.”
“Oh, that’ll be fun. Girls’ night tomorrow?”
Tillie nods. “Remember? You’re gonna hang out with your brothers.”
“Oh yeah. Okay… Can I just come to girls’ night instead?” he asks Layla.
“No, Daddy. It’s only ladies. We love you, but no boys.”
The elevator dings, then opens just as Layla erupts into another giggle fit.
“Do I hear a Ladybug here?”
I know that voice. I’m just not used to hearing it sound so cheerful. Harrison comes around the corner.
Layla’s face lights up like a Christmas tree, and she squirms out of her dad’s arms.
“Uncle Harry!” she squeals, running and leaping into his arms. He effortlessly catches her mid-air.
“Did you come to work to see me?”
“Yes! But to see Delaney, too.”
“Oh? That’s right. You know Delaney. You met her at the wedding, right?” Harrison winks at me.
“Yep. We’re friends. You was grumpy with her that night and made her run away.” Layla wags her finger at him.
Henry snorts. My cheeks heat.
Harrison scratches his head. “I don’t remember being grumpy. Hmm…”
“You was. You stood up and looked like you was gonna yell at her. Then I yelled at you when she runned away, and I told you she was gonna be your—”
Harrison covers her mouth with his hand.
“Oh, no, you don’t. That’s our secret,” Harrison tells her. “I’m friends with Delaney, too, and if you tell her that, she might run away again.”
He sneaks a glance at me, and I raise an eyebrow at him. Now I’m really curious what was said. My eyes dart between Tillie and Henry, but there’s no sign they’ll be sharing the details of that conversation anytime soon.
“What are you up to today? Do you have dance?” Harrison asks Layla. It’s a blatant attempt to change the subject, and it works.
“I had dance already. We just finished and came to see you guys. And to see if Daddy will go to dinner with us.”
She pauses, then her eyes practically pop out of their sockets.
“I have an idea. We should all go to dinner. Actually, we should all go to Uncle Harry’s house—” she looks to her parents with imploring eyes, “—and get pizza!”
She turns her attention to me so quickly that it makes my head spin.
“Do you like pizza?”
“Um… I do like pizza,” I say, glancing at my watch.
“Great. Then you’ll come to Uncle Harry’s, too, and we’ll all have food.”
Oh. I’ll need to leave soon if I’m going to feed Mom dinner.
“Usually I have dinner—” I pause.
“Pleeeaase, Delaney.”
“Remember,” Tillie cuts in gently, “we don’t pressure people.”
Layla frowns and rests her head on Harrison’s shoulder. When he cups the back of her head with a comforting hand, I’m pretty sure my ovaries start singing. He looks so good like that—happy, protective, present.
When I glance at his face, there’s something else there. Concern? Uncertainty? I can’t quite read it.
“I’m sorry,” Henry says. “Sometimes in her excitement, she gets a little… overzealous. When she comes down, she comes down hard, and she’s a sensitive little soul.”
“It’s no problem. She’s so endearing. Excuse me for a minute,” I say.
I step away and pull out my phone to text Pat.
Are you going to have dinner with Mom tonight?
Three dots appear.
Pat
I wasn’t planning on it, but I can. What’s up?
Oh, nothing. It’s okay. Some people from work invited me for pizza, but I’d rather see Mom, anyway.
Pat
Absolutely not. You are not backing out of a social opportunity, Delaney.
Pat, really, I want to see Mom.
Pat
I know you do. But your mom made me promise I wouldn’t let you forget to take care of yourself. I’m slipping my shoes on now and heading out the door. You go have some pizza with your friends.
Are you sure?
Pat
I’m positive. Let me do this for my friend. It’s what she’d want.
I walk back to my desk, suddenly feeling awkward. “Um, I can come now.”
“That’s great,” Tillie smiles.
Henry grabs Tillie’s hand. “Come to my office. I want your opinion on a tile. I was gonna bring them home, but now I don’t have to.”
Layla wiggles down from Harrison’s arms to follow her parents, and their beautiful little family disappears down the hall. I can’t stop myself from watching until they’re out of sight.
“Are you okay?” Harrison asks. The gentleness in his voice touches me.
I turn back to face him, and he’s only a few feet from my desk now.
“Yeah. I’m okay. Why?”
“I’m sorry if you don’t want to come to dinner because I made you uncomfortable.”
“It’s not—”
“No, please. Let me say this.”
He takes a deep breath, then releases it.
“I overstepped. I’m not going to lie, I think there’s something here. But more than anything, I want to be your friend. I’d like to know more about the woman I met in that bar. Hell, I’d like to see more of the man I was that night.”
He doesn’t realize he’s being him right now.
“I liked when we were them, but that’s not real. Life throws stuff at people, and that’s the reality. I don’t even know who that woman was.” My words are hushed, and there’s a sadness in them.
“I do. I know who that woman was and is. You, Bets,” he whispers. “You’re still her. We are them. We were us, just more relaxed and not thinking about all the hard stuff for one night.”
I’m tongue-tied for so long after his mini-speech that I think he’s starting to worry.
“Bets? Say something, anything. But please don’t say I can’t at least be your friend. Say anything but that.”
I gaze up at him, the air in the room thick with tension, and I whisper, “I like mushrooms on my pizza…”