Page 25 of Starving for Her
James
I’m speedinghome like a maniac. I check the time and curse. Layla will definitely be up by now, and she’ll be wondering where I am. I was hoping to get all of this out of the way before she got up, and be back so we could shower together, but as always, Becky fucked with my life and took up more time than I had to give, and now I’m scrambling. And on top of it all, I left my fucking phone in the office.
Al came to me last night and told me that Becky, despite taking my money, was going to the press with her story about me being a dead-beat dad. I went over there, against my lawyer’s advice, to try and talk some sense into her, hoping that maybe some of the trust we once had in our relationship was still there and that she would see what she was doing was wrong.
It didn’t work. In fact, it made things worse.
She threw me out – told me the media was going to “eat me alive” and that I’d regret ever leaving her. I don’t really give a fuck about what the media says about me, but I do care what Layla thinks, which is why I’m on my way home now to reveal everything before she has to hear about it from the news.
The gates slowly open and I drum my fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. When they’re wide enough to fit me through, I gun it and speed up the driveway to the house. Thankfully, all the cars are there and I breath a sigh of relief. With any luck, she’ll still be sleeping and I can ease her into all this. I tried to keep it from her to protect her. I know about her trust issues and didn’t want to spring this drama on her so early in our relationship.
I step inside, and my heart sinks when I see Layla sitting on the stairs, her eyes red and tears on her cheeks.
Oh, no.
“Baby—”
“You’re a liar,” she says simply, with a dismissive shrug. “Three weeks of sweet-talk and it’s all bullshit.”
Becky got to her. I don’t know how, but somehow she did.
I see her day bag next to her. She’s also got her shoes on. She’s leaving me…
“I can explain—”
She laughs a sad laugh that breaks my heart. “Explain!? Explain a kid? When were you gonna tell me, James!? Ever!?”
“He’s not my kid,” I tell her. “And yes, I was going to tell you. I just didn’t want to spring this on you so early.”
“Not yours!?” she scoffs, getting to her feet. “So you’re a deadbeat dad! Just like mine!”
“I’m not, baby,” I plead. I try to take her hand as she passes, but she snatches it angrily away and glares at me.
“I’m not your baby,” she snaps. “And don’t ever contact me again.”
She pushes past me and I follow her out onto the steps, my heart breaking from her pain.
“Layla, please—”
“Fuck off, James!” she replies without even looking back. She walks right past the cars and keeps going down the drive. I want to follow after her and tell her how much I love her and how this is all lies and how crazy Becky is, but why would she have any reason to believe me? Layla already doesn’t trust relationships, and now she is convinced that I’m a liar. As much as it hurts, all I can do is watch her go.
I watch until she’s out of sight, then walk back inside and go to my office and slump down in my chair. I feel defeated, and I never even got a chance to fight. My phone is blinking, and I check the texts and find one from her:
Where are you, babe?
I almost throw the phone across the room in anger. I shouldn’t have left this morning. That was monumentally stupid. I should have been open and honest with her from the start, but I wanted to protect her and ease her into the drama of my life. But everything was so perfect between us and I didn’t want to ruin that.
But now I have.
I hear the front door and don’t allow myself to even think that it might be her; it’s not. It’s Al. He comes in, and although he’s great at keeping his cool, he gives me a heavy sigh and shakes his head.
“Fucking shit show,” I growl.
“I saw her leaving,” he says. “She found out.”
“Somehow! Becky must have gotten to her somehow. There was nothing I could say to stop her.”
Al doesn’t respond. He’s good at reading me and knows that I need a minute so I don’t explode. I keep running things over in my mind, wondering what I could have done to make sure this didn’t happen.
I shouldn’t have tried to protect her; Layla is stronger than that. She’s the girl who showed up to the job interview in a sweatshirt with no make-up on and her hair in a ponytail. She can handle herself. I should have just told her about the drama and prepared her for it. Then she would have trusted me. But now I’ve blown it, and there’s nothing I can—
“Wait a minute…” I say to myself. An idea sparks through my mind and the hint of a smile curls at my lips. “Al, are you still in touch with that PI friend of yours? The ex-military guy?”
“Cole? Yes, I am,” he replies, his eyes lighting up. He sees where I’m going with this.
“Call him up,” I tell him. “Get him in here now. I don’t give a shit what it costs; I’ll buy him a fucking house if that’s what he wants. Just get him here today!”
I slam my fist on the desk as Al picks up his phone and makes the call. I fucked up royally, but I’m not about to let that be the end of our story. Layla’s the one, and I’m not going to let her go.