Chapter 14
Daniela
I’ve been here for over a week. I can’t help but feel a little useless, like I’m not actually helping out that much, but Layla seems happy to have me here all the same.
They’ve been busy half the time doing their own thing, and I’ve been happy doing mine.
I’ve done lots of exploring, browsing the little local shops and boutiques—sometimes with Layla, sometimes on my own—and once I got slightly over my bear overreaction, I even started enjoying afternoons in the backyard, soaking in the view and fresh air, reading a few pages of a book.
I’m not a huge reader. During the school year, I’m usually too busy to fit it in, but occasionally, I’ll pick up a book if Layla begs me to. And when I do. I usually just read it on my phone. I always end up loving whatever she recommends.
The temperature is in the sixties today, which feels surprisingly warm in the sun.
My skin glistens with sweat as I lounge outside with Layla, both of us in our bikinis, trying to catch as much sun as possible before the bridal shower and bachelorette party, which are just around the corner.
We’ve also made ourselves fruity tequila cocktails.
Layla seemed a little stressed about wedding stuff earlier, something about a mix-up with the flower order, but she spent half the morning on the phone and got it sorted out.
I guess now we’re celebrating the little victory. Until the next bump in the road.
“So, I got the scoop on Marny,” Layla says, breaking me out of my sun-kissed daydream.
“Oh?” I reply, though I find myself dreading the answer. Obviously, Dex is allowed—and expected—to date, but I really don’t want to hear that he’s back with his high school ex.
“Yeah. Apparently, he had no idea she was back in town. He just ran into her right before we saw them. They’re definitely not back together.”
“Hmm.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Doesn’t mean they won’t be,” I think out loud. “I mean, she is going to the wedding. Maybe she’ll ask him to be her official date. They looked pretty friendly when we saw them, ”
“I highly doubt he’d be into that,” Layla scoffs. “He looked as taken aback as we were when she did that. He’s just too nice to say anything.”
“Maybe,” I retort. “You know him better than I do, after all.”
“Maybe…”
Silence falls between us again as we enjoy the warmth.
After a while, we head inside for refills, joking and giggling the whole way. We’re both in the kitchen in our bikinis—mine lavender, Layla’s green—when the front door opens, and two deep male voices fill the hall.
I freeze mid-tequila pour.
For some reason, we both stand there like teenagers about to get busted sneaking drinks, even though we’re full-grown adults. Probably the tequila.
Dex steps into view a half-second before his eyes land on me—and his smile vanishes.
Did they go golfing? I’m not usually into the preppy look, but holy shit —the way his bronzed, tattooed biceps stretch that silly white-and-black collared shirt, and the way those tree trunks he calls thighs emerge from his black shorts—I can’t help but stare.
I snap out of it and clear my throat, hoping I wasn’t drooling. Damn it . Why does he have to be so fucking hot?
His eyes are still on me as I look away, my cheeks flushing. I hope he didn’t notice .
“Honey!” Layla squeals, jumping into her fiancé’s arms.
I bite back a laugh as she bounces onto him, her ass cheek practically falling out of her bikini bottom. I gave her one tequila drink. It wasn’t even a big serving; it was mostly juice.
“Honey?” Liam repeats after they share a kiss, looking surprised. Then his gaze falls on the tequila bottle in front of me, and he nods in understanding.
“You girls having a fun afternoon?” Liam asks, amused.
“Yep!” Layla chirps.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better after this morning,” he says, his tone sweet.
She answers him with a quick kiss. “So, who won?” she asks, pulling back.
“Dex, as usual.” Liam answers, smiling. I’m impressed by the way he admits it with no shame.
“It was close,” Dex chimes in. He’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a frown on his face.
“It was not,” Liam retorts. “Motherfucker is good at everything.”
“I know some things you’re good at,” Layla murmurs, not nearly quiet enough.
“Well,” I cut in, not wanting to stand in the kitchen in this awkward situation any longer. “I’m going to excuse myself to go get decent. ”
I turn to head to my room, but I take my time as I strut out of the kitchen, feeling a set of eyes still on me.