Layla – Present #2
“Don’t say no this time. If you’re staying for dinner, you need to be dry. I’ll throw your stuff in the dryer, so you won’t have to leave wearing mine.”
He leads me into a bathroom and leaves me to change.
I take off the damp wet clothing, and put on the fresh dry clothes.
When I open the door, he’s waiting, and he’s changed, his hair no longer damp with rain. I hand him the wet clothes, and he goes back into the room he came out of earlier. Then he leads me into the kitchen.
“What’s for dinner?” I ask.
He opens a drawer and pulls out a bunch of takeout menus. “The choice is yours.”
I spot the menu for Harry’s, and I lift it from the pile. He smirks.
“I thought you’d pick that one.”
“I’ll have you know, I’m far more adventurous now.”
He looks at me like he doesn’t believe me. “Really?”
“Yep. I even eat pineapple on pizza.”
“You’re lying.”
I shake my head. “It’s surprisingly good. It’s Ben’s favorite.”
Jacob’s expression makes me laugh.
“I think you were wrong earlier.” Jacob says.
I look at him, my brows pulled together in question.
“I don’t think I would’ve liked Ben. Of all the things to be adventurous about, you chose to ruin pizza?”
“Have you even tried it?”
“Unfortunately, yes. And no, I won’t be trying it for a second time tonight, before you ask.”
I roll my eyes at him and perch on a stool at the kitchen island. He dials the number and orders the Hawaiian pizza for me, plus enough food for what sounds like ten people.
“Expecting company?” I tease.
“Just us. Why?”
“Because you ordered enough to feed every house on this block.”
He winks. “We’ll manage.”
From the fridge, he pulls out two cans of orange soda. “Want one?”
“Yes, please.”
We sit on the couch. He scrolls through movie options while I take in his home.
It’s as perfect as I remembered the houses on this street to be, even if there’s a definite lack of personal items. No pictures in frames, or general clutter from random trips.
He doesn’t even have any art displayed. It’s all bare white walls, that lead to the floor to ceiling glass doors that span the entire back of the house, leading out to his pool, and the forest beyond.
I feel a twinge of sadness at a memory I’d held close to my heart that happened in a house along this block.
There’s so many questions on my mind, so much I want to know about how his life has been since that night.
I just spilled my guts to him in his car, but I’m not sure if he’ll want to do the same.
“Jacob?” I tug at the sleeves of the hoodie I’m wearing.
“Yeah?” He turns his attention to me.
“Why did you look surprised when I brought up the letters?”
He brings his hand up to the back of his head, avoiding my eyes, “I didn’t know you sent letters, Layla.”
I sit forward. “What do you mean?”
His eyes find mine. “I never got them.”
My stomach twists. “I sent them to Mary’s address. You opened the first one, then returned them. One a week. For six months.” I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”
His expression darkens. “Mary didn’t give them to me.” He rubs his palm along his leg. “I swear. I would never have sent them back unread. That’s not something I would have done.”
The air leaves my lungs.
I sit back. All these years, I thought he hated me for what happened. I thought he had wanted a clean break from me. I shut everything out, because of those stupid letters.
“What happened after I left?” I ask, my voice quieter now.
He rolls his shoulders back. “What did your dad tell you?”
“Nothing,” I say. “He booked the flight, drove me to the airport, took my phone, and sent me to Louisiana without so much as a suitcase. We never spoke about that night again. We’ve barely spoken for the last five years. But if we did, you were always off limits to discuss.”
Jacob looks away, jaw tight.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” he finally says. “I spent six months in juvie. Nine months of community service after that. Keith’s lawyer got me the best deal he could.”
“You did six months in prison?”
“Juvenile detention,” he corrects.
My heart breaks in a completely different way.
“I’m so sorry, Jacob.”
“You don’t have to be. You didn’t do anything.”
“If you hadn’t gotten involved with me, it wouldn’t have happened.”
“I don’t regret that part.” He looks at me, honest and unwavering.
I have no idea how he doesn’t regret dating me when all it ever did was cause him trouble.
There’s a stretched silence between us so I decide to change the subject.
“What do you do now?”
“I’m in business with Keith. Property development.” He states.
“You and Keith are still in contact?”
He doesn’t answer, just meets my eyes.
“What about dating?” I ask. “Have you met anyone?”
I’m not sure I believe Amie.
“No.”
“Why not?”
He runs a hand along the back of his neck, but before he can answer, the doorbell rings.
He brings over the pizza boxes and flips them open on the coffee table in front of us.
I grab a slice of the Hawaiian and take a bite. It’s perfect. Just like I remember. I’ve missed pizza from Harry’s. He always gets the ratio of cheese, tomato, and toppings just right.
I lean back on the sofa and watch the film Jacob picked.
It’s a thriller, an ex-marine is being set up to take the fall after a botched assassination attempt.
I’m glad he picked something like this. It’s the kind of film that holds your attention and keeps you guessing until the last second.
For the first time in months, I feel a little semblance of normal.
If I can tie together moments like this, maybe I can do it.
***
It’s late when Jacob drops me home. I’m still wearing his clothes, we forgot mine in the dryer. I walk up the path and lift the spare key from beneath the terracotta flowerpot. I’m trying to be quiet, but the first step creaks and Dad clears his throat.
The lamp beside his armchair clicks on.
His arms are crossed, his brow furrowed, as he looks down his nose at me.
“What exactly do you think you’re doing, Layla?”
I grip the banister.
“Going to bed. What are you doing?”
He lets out a frustrated sigh.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
His eyes rake over the clothes I’m wearing.
“You’re wearing his clothes.”
He steps toward me. I step back, onto the stair.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you and your husband, but I can sure as hell say no man would be okay with his wife staying out all night with another man.”
“It isn’t like that, Dad.”
“Don’t take me for a fool, Layla.”
He scratches the stubble on his jaw.
“That boy has done nothing but drag you down since the day you met him. I raised you better than this.”
My eyes narrow. “Better than what?”
“Do I need to remind you how Rhett found you that night?”
“Yeah, I think you do. Because we clearly remember it differently.”
“I’m not having this conversation.”
I scoff. “Of course not. Because what does my account matter when you and Rhett have already decided what the truth is.”
“Stop being childish. Your brother did all he could for you that night. A little gratitude wouldn’t hurt you.”
“Gratitude?” I can’t stop myself from laughing. “You’re delusional.”
His eyes narrow.
“What more do you want from me, Layla?”
I suck in a breath.
“I want you to listen to me. I want you to trust me.”
“That ship sailed a long time ago, Lays.”
I nod.
Right. Of course it did, Dad.