29
Liam
It’s Thanksgiving. I’ve spent the last few days making any excuse I can to spend time with Layla, knowing the end of her vacation is quickly approaching. I took her snowmobiling, had several meals out, took Jackson to the movies, and even tried to take her skiing. That one was a “hard pass” on her part. Something about how she tried skiing once recently and spent the whole day on her ass. We hung out at the house instead.
I’m not ready to say goodbye, but I’m not going to think about that tonight.
We’re having dinner at my house, and all of the people who matter most to me are going to be here: Jackson, Dex, my parents, and Layla. And in a surprising last-minute turn of events, Layla’s best friend Daniela decided she’d make the drive to spend Thanksgiving here too. Layla had planned to have Thanksgiving at her cabin, just the two of them, but I talked her into spending it with me.
It’s not a big, glamorous Thanksgiving by any means, but I don’t think Layla needs anything fancy to be impressed. She values quality time and family—something we’ve discussed once or twice over the past few days. We’ve talked about a lot of things, but for some reason we keep dancing around the topic of her looming exit. I keep getting the feeling that she’s avoiding talking about it, so I don’t push it. We’ll have to eventually, but for now, I’ll live in this blissful little bubble with her. When she leaves, it’ll pop, and this whole situation will become a lot more complicated.
Since she was unsure about joining us at first, I’m glad Daniela is coming. She’ll be a great buffer, hopefully making Layla feel more at home. She said she was nervous to meet my parents on such a big day, but I think there’s more going on than that. And I get it. But personally, I don’t give a shit if it’s “too soon.” When it comes to her, I will break all the rules, and I don’t care what anyone thinks. Besides, I know my parents are going to love her.
I watch her stirring her “secret recipe” in my kitchen, her hip popped to the side as she quietly hums. She fits in so nicely here with us, and I’m realizing how badly I don’t want her to leave. How insanely addicted to her I’m becoming. But I also know that realistically, I can’t expect her to uproot her entire life. I don’t know what the solution is, but I want to keep talking to her no matter what. It’s not ideal, all that distance between us, but I’ll take it over the alternative. I just need to find a way to express that to her.
None of our guests have arrived yet and Jackson is preoccupied with a show, so I sneak up behind Layla, grab her hips, and place a firm kiss on her neck. She lets out a quiet laugh and backs her ass up even harder into me, and I’m immediately hard for her. I make sure she feels it, and she lets out a soft moan, turning her head back to look at me. I cup her cheek, run a thumb over her pouty bottom lip, then lean down and place a soft, gentle kiss on her mouth. I pull back to gaze down at her—the soft slope of her nose, her dark, fluttering eyelashes, the strands of hair that have fallen into her face. I can’t get enough of her.
Layla is a magnet that pulls me in whenever I’m around her. Her strength and joy are infectious. She had the worst year of her life, and yet she pulled herself out, dusted herself off, and decided to keep going at it, all on her own. Independent and yet so happy when she’s here with us. It’s palpable.
Watching her bond with Jackson is more than I ever could’ve hoped for. He’s been through an awful thing that will stick with him for the rest of his life, but seeing her connect with him over that has been heart-warming. More than I ever could have wished for.
It’s possible that I might be falling for her. I knew going into this that she wouldn’t be around for long, yet nothing in me hesitated or shouted to slow down, to be careful. I didn’t want to go slow with her; it never even crossed my mind. And that scares the hell out of me because I know that if she leaves, she could break my damn heart.