Chapter Twenty-Three
LAYLA
I’ve spent the time waiting for my flight to board, reading through texts my roommates sent to each other in our group chat over the past week.
Livy didn’t stay in Salt Lake City with Meg and her family like I expected. Instead, she drove to Wyoming to spend the week with her sister. When a snowstorm hit, she ended up at an inn with a handsome stranger. He’s not a stranger anymore.
Meg spent the week with her family and her twin brother’s best friend, Noah, at Nordquest Ski Resort. It seems she and Noah aren’t enemies any longer. They might actually be more than friends. That’s a plot twist I never saw coming.
I missed out on so much, and I regret not being there for them. Probably as much as they’ll wish they had been here for me when they find out the whole story of my week .
I try composing a text to let them know I’m coming home early, fresh from a broken engagement, but I have no enthusiasm for the task. They’ll be rosy with newfound love, and I’m melancholy about missing Owen.
It was pride that kept me from telling him goodbye this morning. My reason for avoiding him for most of this year is my reason for not wanting to face him now: I’m a black hole of debt.
I have read none of his texts, though the little red number is telling me the count is up to seventeen. By now, he’ll know I broke off my engagement to Spencer, and that I’ve left. I hope he’ll get the message and not expect anything from me when we’re both back in Salt Lake. Even friendship feels dangerous at this point.
Not being able to resist seeing his face, I pull up the video Max sent me of Owen trying to dance. When it ends, I play it again. And again. It’s like pressing on a bruise just so I can feel the pain.
My pity fest is interrupted when my phone rings with an unfamiliar number. I would normally ignore it, but it’s a Maine area code and my curiosity motivates me to answer. Maybe something happened at the cabin. Or maybe it’s Owen, and I’ll get to hear his voice for a few seconds before I hang up.
“Hello?”
“Is this Layla Adler I’m speaking to?” an unfamiliar female voice asks.
I hate how I’m disappointed it’s not Owen. “Yes.”
“This is Sofia Vega. I’m Mrs. Rheta Eccleston’s attorney. She asked me to inform you that a certified check for one hundred thousand dollars will arrive Monday morning by courier at your address in Utah.” She rattles off my address. “Is that the correct address?”
My heart stops. My lungs refuse to function. I can’t speak.
One. Hundred. Thousand. Dollars.
Enough to cover Nana’s care for the next year. Or to pay off my bank loan and most of the credit card debt. I cover my mouth with my hand so Sofia Vega doesn’t hear my gasp as my body begins to function again. It sounds more like a sob.
“Ms. Adler? Is that your address?”
“Yes,” I croak. But why is Rheta sending me money? I’m not engaged to her grandson anymore. She has no reason to give me anything.
Sofia Vega continues. “Mrs. Eccleston has also set up a fund that will disperse eight thousand dollars a month for the next ten years to go toward the care of Mrs. Ellen Adler. My contact information, as well as the parameters of the fund, will be included with the certified check. Do you have questions?”
I find my voice so I can inform her, “I can’t accept this.”
“Yes, she thought you might say something to that effect.” She’s grinning on the other end of the line. “Mrs. Eccleston wanted me to tell you that you can take her help. She only wishes the best for you. I suggest you graciously accept and send her a thank you card. Good day, Ms. Adler. Have a happy New Year.”
She hangs up. I sit in shock. Did this really happen? Am I dreaming? The tears on my cheeks are real. As is the cold air blowing on me from a nearby vent. Now that I’ve determined the call happened, I need to decide if I should take what Rheta has offered .
It doesn’t take me more than ten seconds to decide yes; I am accepting her generosity. She has no ulterior motive. She gives monetary gifts to people, businesses, and organizations she believes in. I don’t feel like I owe her anything in return, like I did with Spencer, or that I’m indebted to her like I would with Owen. This is a gift offered in love, free and clear. A thank you card feels paltry compared to hundreds of thousands of dollars, but I have nothing else to give her except my undying gratitude.
Tears stream down my face, but I’m also laughing as I rock backward and forward in my seat. I have my life back. My future opens before me and it is bright.
“Are you okay?”
I wipe my eyes and turn to the young teenager sitting beside me. I’m glad she asked because I need to tell someone.
“My nana will have everything she needs.”
Her nose scrunches in confusion. “Okay.”
I rub at my cheeks as more tears fall. I woke up this morning dreading the years ahead of me, and now they’re full of possibilities.
The crowd lining up to board the plane parts as someone pushes his way through. The man looks like Owen pre-Maine. He has the same long stride, trimmed beard, and cocoa-colored eyes. Instead of wearing slacks and a button-up shirt, he has on a t-shirt and shorts during winter. At least he has on a jacket with a green scarf hanging from his neck.
I recognize the scarf because I made it. That, more than anything else, convinces me that this isn’t a man who looks like Owen. It is Owen. When he sees me, he jogs over and kneels on the ground at my feet. His grin melts away when he notices the tears on my cheeks.
“Layla? What’s wrong?” He sounds concerned and runs a thumb under my eye, wiping away the tears.
My heart gallops in my chest. It takes forever for me to find my voice. “Nothing is wrong.”
“You’re crying.”
“Tears of happiness.” A full-bodied laugh accompanies my words.
His eyebrows lower, and he tilts his head to the side. “What happened?”
Not only am I financially free, my heart is free. I’m a single, twenty-nine-year-old woman who is face-to-face with a gorgeous, caring, funny, thoughtful man who followed her to the airport. He’s what I want. I will never run away from him again. He doesn’t know what he’s in for because I never want to leave his side.
I scoot to the edge of my seat and throw my arms around his neck. My knees bracket his hips. His arms go around my waist. His beard rubs against my wet cheek and his breath is warm on my neck. I feel just as secure in his arms today as I did on Christmas Eve, but now I feel no shame or regret. He is mine. My chest is about to burst from all the happiness I hold inside.
“You’re worrying me,” he says.
“I’m happy. For so many reasons, but right now, I’m happy you’re here.”
“You’re glad I came?” He sounds hopeful.
I laugh again. “Yes, I am definitely glad you came.”
He pulls away far enough to look at me. “You broke up with Spencer. ”
I nod and laugh. “Yes.”
“But you left without saying goodbye?”
“I didn’t know how to tell you what a mess I am financially. It was not a little money I needed, it was over one-hundred-thousand dollars and on top of that, another seventy-five-thousand every year. I couldn’t put that sort of financial stress on you. You deserve better. But now, everything is different.”
He studies my face and tenderly moves a lock of hair behind my ear. “Different how?”
Manic, happy laughter burbles out of me again and I pull him close, burrowing my head in the crook of his neck. The scarf he wears is soft against my cheek.
“Rheta is providing everything for my nana’s care. I just got the call. She’s paying off all my debts and giving Nana a monthly stipend. She’s given me my life back. Owen, I want that date you asked me for. I want to spend every day with you. If that isn’t what you want, tell me now because I’m already building dreams for my future and you’re in every single one.”
My declaration is met with silence. I expected Owen to be as enthusiastic as I am now that the barrier keeping us apart is gone, but I must have misunderstood why he’s here. I pull away, but he doesn’t let me go. Our eyes meet. His lips lift in the grin I adore. He must see my confusion at his silence. I essentially told him I love him and he hasn’t said a word in response.
“I want to be a part of those dreams, Layla. I’m thrilled that Rheta stepped in to help. But before I tell you how much I love you, I have to share with you something else and I’m nervous you’ll be mad. ”
My heart soars, then sinks. What could be more important than his love for me? “What do you have to tell me?”
He unwraps his arms from around my waist and leans back on his heals. I shiver as the cold air blows against my back. Trepidation sinks into my soul. This is bad.
“That manufacturing company I started with my friend?”
“I remember.”
“We manufactured bags.”
Not what I expected after the introduction he gave to this confession. “Bags?”
He points to the Boudron at my feet. “Those bags.”
My jaw drops. I need confirmation that I understand correctly. “Boudron is the company you sold?”
“Just my half. Believe me, our success surprised no one more than us. It was all about timing and getting the attention of the right fashion designers and celebrities. Without social media, we’d probably still be working out of his garage.”
I’m not computing the words he speaks. “Boudron? The hottest designer bag on the market for the past three years? That Boudron?”
He smiles as he nods. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I have a complicated relationship with money and I didn’t want you to pick me because of what was in my bank account. I should have been honest. Are you mad?”
I’m shocked is what I am. I also feel a fool. I didn’t think he had the money to help me pay for Nana, and he probably has enough in his bank account to purchase a hundred assisted living homes outright.
“Layla, what are you thinking? ”
Good question. What am I thinking? I’m thinking about how much I want to kiss him.
“I’m not mad you didn’t tell me. Honestly, it’s better you didn’t. Now that Nana is taken care of, I don’t care about your bank account. All I care about is you.”
He has me in his arms in seconds. His lips land on mine, but only for a moment. I want them back where they belong, but he’s using them to speak. “Layla, I love you. Thank you for not marrying my cousin. Family reunions would have been the worst.”
I laugh and then get lost in his eyes. I run a finger through his beard. Over his lips. Under his eyebrows. Owen is mine. I can touch him whenever I want. Laugh with him. Hug him. Kiss him. All wonderful things that I don’t have to feel guilty about. I savor his arms around my waist. The warmth of his skin. His soft brown eyes drinking me in. They skip down to my lips. Mine veer in the same direction.
“Are you going to kiss again?” someone says, shattering our moment.
We both turn toward the teenager sitting in the next seat over. Right. We are in an airport terminal, not alone. Something I should have remembered sooner.
“If so,” the teen continues, “Hurry it up. They just called for section three. If you take too long, you’ll miss the flight.”
The line for boarding is half as long as when Owen showed up, but we still have quite an audience.
Owen turns to me. “Actually, I think I want to miss our flight. I’m not ready to go home. Will you stay in Boston with me? There’s an Italian restaurant I would love to take you to. We can do whatever else you want. A museum or the freedom walking tour. ”
I’m reminded that Harvard University is in Boston. Owen lived here for three years going to law school. I want to see the city through his eyes.
Except … Spencer was generous and gave me a first-class ticket. It feels wasteful not to use it, especially since I deserve the economy section.
“What about our tickets? I don’t want to waste Spencer’s money.”
Owen turns to the teen who is listening to every word of our conversation. All she needs is popcorn to truly enjoy the show.
“Who are you traveling with?” Owen asks her.
The girl points to the woman sitting beside her. “My mom.”
From her mom’s wide eyes and interested smile, she’s enjoyed my reunion with Owen just as much as her daughter.
Owen takes my hand and pulls me up to standing. “Let’s see if we can get these lovely women in first class, shall we?”
“Really?” The girl’s squeal is so high, I’m sure the service dog down the corridor heard it.
It doesn’t take long to have our seats transferred and to rebook a flight for tomorrow night. The whole time, Owen is touching me or I’m touching him. Almost as if we can’t believe this is happening; we’re free to be together.
Our suitcases are on their way to Salt Lake City, but Owen contacts a friend to pick them up for us so they aren’t sitting in baggage claim for a day.
We leave the airport hand in hand. Snow falls in fat flakes. The tops of our heads are quickly covered in white.
“Ready for an adventure?” Owen asks .
A hundred times, yes. A thousand. A million. But first …
“In one second,” I tell him.
Before I get too distracted by Owen and the city, I send my roommates a quick message.
LAYLA: Sorry I haven’t responded this week. Maine has been a surprise in more ways than one. I’ll explain everything when I get back tomorrow. Sorry if I worried you!
I zip my phone in my Boudron and ignore it as it buzzes. Right now, I want to be with Owen.
We head to the taxi stand, but before we reach the line, Owen pulls me into an alcove. My back is to the building, with Owen blocking everything behind us. He leans close, one hand on the wall next to my head, the other on my hip on the inside of my open coat. The warmth of his body so close to mine sends electricity coursing through me, from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. My skin pebbles with goose bumps.
“Is this okay?” he whispers.
All I can do is nod. People pass, but they may as well be miles away for how little I notice. My attention is one hundred percent dedicated to Owen. His jacket is open, and I lay my hands flat against his beautiful, firm chest. I feel the beat of his heart through my palms.
His hand moves from the wall to cup my cheek and he runs his thumb over my bottom lip. I lean into his touch. His attention veers to the hollow of my neck. I shiver as if it’s his fingers touching me and not just his eyes.
“You’re wearing the angel necklace.”
I pull back the sleeve of my coat and shake my wrist. The charms on my bracelet jingle. “This too. ”
His grin grows. He leans forward and breathes in. “Is that peppermint soap I smell?”
I laugh until he drops a kiss just below my ear. It turns into a gasp.
His lips move against my neck as he says, “I promised I would tell you how much I loved you after I confessed my secret.”
“You did?” I remember nothing beyond this moment. My eyes lids flutter as his lips skim over my jaw.
“Yes, and a promise is a promise.” He kisses my chin, then stands straight and meets my eyes as his expression grows serious. “I love you more than I love strawberry cheesecake.”
His declaration surprises a laugh out of me. It’s going to be like that, is it? I fist his t-shirt in my hands and pull him closer.
I kiss the crease next to his eye and whisper, “I love you more than candy canes.”
He grins against my cheek. “I love you more than I love opening Christmas gifts on Christmas morning.”
I’m smiling as I kiss his jaw. “I love you more than my Boudron bag.”
He kisses next to my ear and whispers, “I love you more than fifty-three million dollars.”
I gasp at the amount, but before I can ask what that means, his lips are on mine. We give twin sighs. He’s been wanting this kiss as much as I have. I wrap my arms around his waist. We’re so close, he could zip me up inside his jacket. His hand moves to my neck, and his fingers weave through the hair at the base of my scalp. The other cups my cheek and tilts my face to the perfect angle to deepen the kiss .
As we spend the next however long hiding in an alcove built specifically for us, trading secrets and toe-curling kisses, I’m amazed at how my counterfeit Christmas ended. If I hadn’t come to Maine as Spencer’s secret fiancée, I’d still be avoiding Owen, hiding around corners at Brock Pine Home, so he wouldn’t find out my credit score. I never would have met Rheta. I’d still be stuck in debt with no escape and too prideful to ask for help.
Rheta was right. Sometimes our mistakes put us exactly where we need to be.