Chapter 28
28
LAYLA
Everyone left to return to the States this morning. Madelaine and Sebastian will be staying at the chateau for a few more days before leaving for their honeymoon. After explaining some of what happened to Maddie, she insisted I take a few extra days in Paris. She offered up the penthouse for as long as I want to stay, since she wasn’t using it anyway. I readily agreed, because who doesn’t want to stay in a gorgeous penthouse with a view of the Eiffel Tower, and also because I’m a coward who isn’t ready to face reality just yet.
Despite how much I hate him, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Cole. I just can’t believe he could be so cruel. He promised. We agreed. If it came to a time when we weren’t interested in keeping things going, we would break it off first. He didn’t give any indication that he was feeling that way. In fact, everything he said and did leading up to the other night led me to believe the opposite.
I sip my coffee as I stare at one of the most famous monuments in the world. I’ve been here since last night. I love my friends, but I needed some space so I could think. I’ve been sitting on this beautiful terrace since before the sun came up, and I still don’t know what I want to do.
Murder still isn’t out of the realm of possibility.
I huff.
No. I don’t want to murder Cole. I love him, or at least I did. I would just like an explanation so I can move on and put this whole nightmare behind me. I want him to look me in the eyes and tell me why. He owes me that much. I just have to get up the courage to go back to New York and face the bastard.
My phone buzzes on the table next to me, causing me to jump. I finally turned it on this morning. I do still have a life and responsibilities. I can’t hide forever. I ignored the bazillion calls and texts from Cole. I haven’t read or listened to any of them, but I haven’t deleted them either.
I glance down at the screen and see Aria’s name. Shit . I probably should have checked in with her or at the very least her grandmother. It’s late Sunday night there. Aria should be in bed by now. My heart skips a beat as I snatch up my phone.
“Hey, sweets. Why are you calling me so late? Shouldn’t you be in bed? Tomorrow is a school day after all.” My maternal instincts kick in.
“Hi, Layla. I am in bed, but I wanted to tell you something before I went to sleep.”
I chuckle. “Okay, if it will help you sleep better, you better tell me, then.”
“Cole didn’t do anything bad. I just wanted you to know that, so you don’t stay mad at him.” My heart jumps and skips several beats before it starts to pound rapidly in my chest. How the hell does she know? And he most certainly did do something bad.
“Wh—what are you talking about, honey?”
“Cole told me that he loves you but that you are mad at him, and he can’t tell you that he didn’t do anything bad because you won’t talk to him. I told him I would tell you.”
I shake my head, trying to make sense of what she is talking about.
“Wait, when did you see Cole?”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you that part.” She giggles. I bite my lip as I patiently wait for her to get to the point. If there’s one thing I’ve learned since I met Aria, it’s how to be a lot more patient.
“Gran and Lanie fought and Gran fell down and banged her head on Friday. We had to go to the hospital. I got to ride in the ambulance. But then Lanie came to the hospital and tried to take me away. She took my phone when I tried to call you, so I ran away. I went to your apartment, but you weren’t home. I forgot you went away, so I asked for Cole, but he wasn’t home either, so the nice man let me sleep on the couch until Cole came home. I got to sleep over for two nights, and I played hide-and-seek with his brothers who are sooo much fun. Oh, and Cole bought me a new backpack and some other stuff because I didn’t have any...”
“Aria.” I interrupt her. I know she’s excited and she had an adventure, but I need to find out how Bea is.
“What?” Her voice has lost some of its excitement.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, honey. It sounds like you had a good time with Cole, but I need to know how your gran is and where you are.”
“Oh, I’m at home. Gran is good. She has a big black bruise on her cheek, but she says she’s okay. She got home from the hospital yesterday. I had to stay an extra day with Cole so she could make Lanie go away.”
“Okay. That’s good. Thank you for letting me know, baby. I think you should probably get some sleep now. You have to get up early for school.”
She ignores my suggestion. “Are you still mad at Cole?”
I’m not about to get into my feelings about Cole with a nine-year-old who is on the other side of the world. “Don’t worry about me and Cole. We’ll sort things out one way or the other. Now, it’s time for sleep.”
“But…”
“No buts. It’s sleepy time. Okay?”
“Okay. I love you, Layla. I can’t wait until you come home.”
“I love you too, honey. I’ll be home soon. Have a good sleep.” I push disconnect before she can say anything further.
I stare at the phone in my hand.
He told me that he loves you but that you are mad at him, and he can’t tell you that he didn’t do anything bad because you won’t talk to him.
I know what I saw. How can he possibly deny it?
You didn’t actually see them together , a little voice inside my head argues.
No. But she was getting dressed as she left his apartment. And then she basically admitted that they had just had sex.
Did she? the same voice asks. I think back and relive those painful moments all over again.
He’s all yours, honey. He’s pretty worn out, but Cole’s always up for round two. I hope you enjoy sloppy seconds.
Sounds pretty damn clear to me. My battered heart aches all over again. Then I remember the vicious look on her face as she said those words. Was she playing me? Oh God. Is it possible I made a huge mistake?
I click on voice mail and Cole’s deep rich voice booms through the tiny speaker. They start out normal enough.
“Hey, just checking in. Any idea what time you will be home?”
“Hi, babe. Just checking in. How is Bea?”
But then worry and concern creeps into his voice.
“Baby, it’s me again. I’m starting to worry. Give me a call and let me know you’re okay. Bye.”
This does not sound like a man who just banged another woman. I check the timestamps on the messages and that doesn’t add up either. They start right around the time I would have been standing in the hallway outside his door. I keep listening. The next one doesn’t come until about an hour later.
“Layla, listen to me. It’s not what you think. Nothing happened. Christa showed up. I didn’t even let her in. I told her to fuck off and slammed the door in her face. Call me. Please.”
Oh my God. What have I done? I raise a shaky hand to my mouth as I continue to listen.
“Layla, I would never do that do you. You have to believe me.”
“Please, baby. Just call me so we can talk.”
“Layla… I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you… I love you… Please call me.”
That is the last message. I pull up the texts. My vision is blurred by tears that I can’t seem to stop from falling. I let them fall. I cry until I can’t cry any more. Until I seem to be all out of tears. Then I open the first text.
Cole: Layla, what’s going on? Call me? Cx
Cole: Layla, where are you? I’m starting to worry. Cx
Cole: Babe, call me. Cx
These are obviously before he figured out what had happened because the rest all smack of panic and desperation.
Cole: Layla, it’s not what you are thinking. Nothing happened . Cx
Cole: I never touched her. I wouldn’t do that to you. Cx
Cole: Please, just call me so we can talk about this. Cx
Cole: Layla, I don’t know where you are. I’m worried. Please call me. Cx
There are so many, and I read them all. Then they just stop. He’s given up. The tears start to flow again. I’ve ruined everything, and all because of—what? My stupid fear of trusting that someone might actually love me enough to stick around.
I toss my phone down, disgusted with myself. I let out a bitter laugh. Here I thought Cole was the untrustworthy asshole. I was so determined to believe he would eventually break my heart, when in reality, it was always me. I’m the untrustworthy asshole who ended up breaking his heart.
“Fuck, what a mess,” I grumble.
I have no idea how to fix this. I can’t just call Cole and say, “Oh hey, sorry. My fucked-up brain made a mistake. Let’s just forget about it and start over.” I’m humiliated and more than a little ashamed of my behavior. I don’t blame him if he never wants to speak to me again.
I know I owe Cole an explanation. Hell, I expected one from him, so it’s the least I can do, but I haven’t got the guts to call him right now. I need more time. I can’t face him yet. I’m not ready and I’m honestly not sure I’ll every be ready.
I spend most of the day bumming around Paris. I don’t even recall where I’ve been or what I’ve seen. I’m mostly just trying to occupy my time while I try to figure out how to get myself out of this mess I’ve made of my life.
As soon as I get back home, I pick up my phone and dial Janey. It’s the middle of the day in New York, so I know she’ll be there.
“Hey, Layla. How’s Paris?” She sounds cheerful. She’s always cheerful, it’s one of the reasons why I love working with her.
“Hi, Janey. Paris is good. I’m just calling to see if there is anything pressing that needs my attention. I think I might stay a few extra days.”
“Nope. Everything is under control here. There are a few new matters, but they can wait until you get back.”
“Okay, perfect. I’ll be back next week, but feel free to call me if you need to. I’ll have my phone on from now on.”
“Perfect. Oh, there’s one more thing. Cole Hendrix has been calling. He called on Friday and sounded pretty upset when I told him you were out of the country. He called again this morning. He was desperate to speak with you. I told him I would pass the message on, but he then he asked for Tori’s number. I know you guys are together, so I hope it wasn’t a problem for me to give it to him. You should probably give him a call.”
Tears start to fall again. But these tears are different. They are happy tears, or at least hopeful tears. Maybe he does still care. Maybe I still have a chance to fix this. My lifeless heart starts to beat with purpose again.
“No, that’s fine, Janey, it’s not a problem. I’ll give him a call. Thanks.” I hang up.
I should call him. My hand itches to pull up his name and hit dial. I set my phone down. I can’t. I don’t even know what I would say. Instead, I dial my mom. I never got a chance to see her before I left, and I’m still curious about the stuff I saw in her house.
“Layla, hi, honey. How was the wedding?”
“Hi, Mom. It was beautiful. Maddie is so happy. I’m really glad that I got to be a part of it. How are things with you?” The question hangs in the air.
“Things are good,” she says, but I need more.
“Come on, Mom, I know you want to say more. Like, for instance, do you want to tell me about the other toothbrush or the men’s reading glasses?” I chuckle. “I’m happy for you. Why are you hiding it from me? I’m a big girl now.”
“I’m not hiding anything. I just…I don’t know. It just happened over time. You know I’ve been seeing Derek for a while now. We like to spend time together. He doesn’t live here or anything like that, he…just stays here sometimes. I suppose it’s probably time you met him, if you want to.” She huffs out a little laugh and I smile. I’ve never heard my mother sound so—happy—content—in love, maybe.
“I would love to meet him, Mom. I’m happy for you.”
“Okay, I’ll make that happen. What’s going on with your apartment?”
“My apartment?” I ask in confusion.
“Yes. You said you had to stay over before you left for France because there was a problem with your apartment. For the astronomical price you paid for it, I hope it’s nothing serious.”
You have no idea.
“Oh, right. No, it’s no big deal. It will be fixed by the time I return,” I lie. I may have to move in the future, but I don’t mention that either.
“Well, I just wanted to check in. I’ll call you when I get back next week. Love you.”
“Love you too, baby. Enjoy Paris.” The line goes dead and suddenly I’m alone with my thoughts once more. I never used to have a problem being alone. In fact, I actually enjoyed it. Now, I can’t stand it.
I should really go home. I need to go home and deal with this, but I’m a coward. I still have the rest of the week here. Maybe it’s not such a bad idea to hide out for a little while longer.
I spend the next few days keeping myself busy—very busy—so busy that I literally drop into bed from exhaustion as soon as I get home. Sleep doesn’t come easily though, and when it does, my dreams are filled with gorgeous golden eyes, sexy dimples and an even sexier body.
Consciousness starts to break through. The room is silent, and I can hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ear, the pulse of heat, adrenaline and arousal, almost too much to tolerate. My fingers flex and reach, searching for just the right spot. I keep my eyes closed as I inhale and exhale and try to keep the thread of connection with the man in my dreams.
My fingers are his fingers. They circle my clit before sliding along the seam of my body into the wet heat of my sex. I suck in air as the sensation of his touch spirals through my body. It’s good. It’s really good. I am so on edge, so ready to come. I forget about everything except wanting more, needing more. Needing him. His golden eyes stare up at me as his mouth closes down on my throbbing nub and suckles.
I grip the blankets and a panting, wild sound I don’t recognize, slips from my lips. He licks and teases, strokes, using his fingers, mouth, and of course, his talented tongue, until I’m right there on the edge.
I moan as everything fades away but pleasure. Trembling, I arch, trying to get closer to his touch, and gasp out, “Cole,” in desperation.
The thread breaks and the dream starts to fade.
“Nooo,” I moan. My fingers keep moving but the feeling is gone. I pull my hand away from my aching core and fling it away from me in frustration. It lands on the empty space beside me, which only reminds me that I’m here—alone.
Tears start to fall again. This is why I’ve kept myself so busy. I can’t stand to be alone with myself. God, when did I get so pathetic. I throw the blankets off in disgust and drop my feet to the floor. I need a shower and then I need to get the hell out of here.
Water rains down on my head. I don’t know how long I’ve been standing here, but I can’t seem to make myself move. I don’t even have the energy to finish what I started earlier. It’s just not the same as it used to be before him. I’ve stopped using his name. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that things are over between us. I’m too messed up to have a relationship. This is best for both of us.
I don’t worry about hair and makeup. I’m not trying to impress anyone these days. I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I look like a ghostly version of myself. Thanks to the Latin part of my heritage, my complexion is usually golden and glowing. My hair is always bouncy and glossy. The woman staring back at me is a stark contrast to what I’m used to seeing. My skin is pale, and my hair is limp. I’ve also lost more than a couple of pounds. Whatever .
I pull my hair into a simple ponytail and slick on a little lip gloss and I’m done. I throw on a light blue sleeveless dress that is a little loose on my now slightly more slender frame and slip my feet into a pair of comfortable white sneakers. My phone goes into my backpack, along with a bottle of water and a crossword puzzle book I picked up yesterday, and I’m set for the day. Now all I need is a good cup of coffee, which will be easy to find, and a quiet place to sit.
I fumble with the keys as I pull open the door and step outside. They drop, and when I bend down, I notice a pair of men’s shoes. Very expensive men’s shoes that I’ve seen before. I glance up from my crouched position and gasp.
“Cole.”