Page 28 of Starving for Her
James
“Come on, Layla,”I mutter to myself as I take my 118th lap around the foyer. Yes, I’ve counted them all. “Check your damn phone!”
It’s been six hours since I sent her the photo that would fix everything, and still nothing. She must have turned it off, or worse, given it to Gina. Or even worse, hopped on a plane to Paris or something. She easily could have; she has one of my credit card numbers that I gave her to order cooking supplies.
“Are you really not going to eat anything?” Al asks, coming in from outside. He’s holding a bag of burgers from Gino’s, one of my favorite restaurants. Normally, the smell would have my stomach rumbling and I’d be ready to chow down, but nothing is normal now – in fact, it hasn’t been since the moment Layla walked through my door.
“I’ll be fine, Al. I’m not wasting away.”
“You need your protein,” he jokes. “Unless you want all that working out to go to waste.”
“Put them in the kitchen,” I tell him. “Maybe I’ll eat later if I’m hungry.”
Al doesn’t move for a second. I know he wants to give me a pep talk, either about how Layla will eventually come back to me, or about how I need to move on, neither of which I want to hear right now.
Thankfully, he decides better of it and heads to the kitchen, leaving me alone.
Alone…
That’s what I am now. A few weeks ago, I would have copped to that with pride. Yeah, I’m single! I would have said. It wouldn’t have bothered me in the slightest. But not anymore. Not now that I know what I’m missing out on.
I walk back to my phone that’s sitting on a table by the door and pick it up and check it. There’s a text from one of my business partners, and a missed call from my VP, but nothing from Layla. I grit my teeth and lean against the wall.
I should go to work or something—find something to distract myself, but I know that’s going to be impossible. Shit, this is how it feels when you get dumped by your first crush!
Only so much worse…
I set my phone aside and go back to my laps around the foyer. There’s really nothing else to do. I can’t focus, I can’t work, I can’t go find her because I don’t know where the fuck she is. She and Gina both moved out of her old apartment—I know because I checked—and their landlady had no idea where they went.
I’m finishing up lap 119 when I hear the sound of a car engine out front. I perk up like a dog hearing the mailman, and walk quickly to the door. I’m not expecting anyone. It’s her, I think as I grab the handle. It has to be!
I tear the door open and scare the absolute shit out of a delivery girl who looks like she was about to ring the doorbell.
“Oh!” she exclaims. “I’m so sorry! I have a delivery for Al?”
I sigh and smile as I lean against the doorframe. “Yeah, I can take it. What is it?”
“Pork shanks and spicy fries,” she explains. “We didn’t have them ready when he came in so he asked us to drop them off. He didn’t want to wait.”
“I understand,” I tell her, taking them from her and giving her a massive tip.
“Thank you!” she stammers. “Thank you so much!”
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her as I close the door. I set the bag aside and lean back against the wall. Fuck. I should have known better. Of course it wouldn’t be her. This isn’t a Hollywood movie; this isn’t a romance novel. Layla is gone, as she should be, and I’m not going to see her again.
Shaking my head, I pick up the bag and head for the kitchen when the bell rings again.
“Ugh, what?!” I groan as I head to the door and pull it open. “What is it—?”
My words catch in my throat; it’s not the delivery girl standing on the steps. It’s Layla.
Her beauty washes over me like a warm wave. I drop the bag to the ground as she looks at me. Her eyes are red; she’s been crying. I feel awful knowing it’s because of me, but at the same time, I’m overjoyed by her presence.
“Layla—”
“I got your message,” she says. She lifts her cell phone and shows it to me; the real paternity test proving I’m not the father of Becky’s son. “I never should have doubted you, James.”
“You had every reason to,” I tell her. “I—I don’t blame you—”