Suzanne was the prettiest girl Layla had ever known. They’d become friends in elementary school and had once been quite close, although they’d drifted apart as they’d gotten older. Suzanne had gone the cheerleader, homecoming-queen route and Layla had immersed herself in music and band. They had gone to different colleges but had run into each other occasionally when they were home on break. Somehow, neither of them had managed to move on to greener pastures yet.
Suzanne was tall and willowy, with a tight, toned body, the result of hours spent at the gym. That night, she was wearing a low-cut blouse with a plunging neckline, and a tight short skirt worn with the highest of heels. Her blond hair still held its artfully tousled curls, and her perfectly applied red lipstick hadn’t budged. It was an eye-catching look and, reflecting back on it, Layla sometimes wondered if Liam had been drawn to Suzanne the way birds are drawn to scraps of foil and other shiny objects to take home to line their nests.
Layla didn’t remember where she’d picked up the advice, probably a magazine or one of her friends, but before leaving your house you were supposed to look in the mirror, turn around, and then look back into the mirror. Whatever caught your eye, whether it was an accessory or an article of clothing or something weird going on with your hair, needed to be removed, fixed, or adjusted, because that meant it was too much. Suzanne seemed like someone who took that same look in the mirror and then fluffed her hair and put on another necklace and more eyeshadow.
They could not have been more different in terms of style. Layla was wearing snug, faded jeans and a pale yellow T-shirt. And not one of those pastel, girly fitted ones, either. Hers was cut like a man’s, although in a much smaller size. It bore the logo of a Key West bar, and it worked on her, giving her an effortless, sexy, rocker-chick kind of look with her long messy hair—which was now blue after she’d grown tired of the pink—and her delicate features. Layla was made of angles, and her slim-hipped, straight-up-and-down figure with its B cups would never fill out an outfit like the one Suzanne was wearing.
“We’re going to get something to eat. Wanna join us?” Suzanne motioned toward the guy sitting on the other side of Liam. “This is Phillip. We could make it a foursome.” She giggled when she said “foursome.”
“Thanks, but I’m starving and can’t wait that long. I’m going to see if the kitchen has anything left and then I’m going home to crash. It was nice to see you,” Layla said, and then she walked off before they could say anything else.
* * *
Now, as she stood in the basement, she wished she had a time machine. If she did, she’d have gone back and cut out all those years that came after that night in the bar, saving herself a load of heartache in the process. Layla had spent way too much time ruminating on the time-machine thing, which was stupid, because time machines didn’t exist and the past was in the past.
She reminded herself to focus on the present. There was certainly something to be said for being one hundred percent in charge of your time and your resources, and this freedom felt like drawing a fresh breath of air into her lungs. This time, nobody would derail her from having the life she wanted.
She felt buoyant.
Unencumbered.
Alive.
By Sunday night, the walls gleamed with two fresh coats of snowy white and Layla tumbled into bed, tired, aching, and as close to happy as she’d felt in a while.
chapter 6
Josh
Josh picked Sasha up from school on Monday afternoon. On the way home he said, “I have a surprise for you and I’m pretty sure you’re gonna love it.”
He’d stashed the dog in the spare bedroom, and as soon as they were inside, he took Sasha by the hand and led her toward it. She’d been begging for a dog since the age of three, but Kimmy had been lukewarm on the idea and would have preferred a cat. Josh was allergic to cats, so they’d compromised with a hamster that neither of them had been all that thrilled about. It had died a few months ago, and Josh and Kimmy had no desire to replace it due to Sasha’s insistence that it come with her every time she changed houses. Plus, the cage smelled awful and required parental help to clean.
Josh opened the bedroom door and a giant, white fluffy dog bounded out. “Dad,” Sasha screamed. She threw her arms around the dog’s neck, and Josh’s heart swelled. The dog licked her face tentatively and she buried her face in its fur. “Do we get to keep him?”
“Yes,” he said.
* * *
Carl hadn’t answered the door when Josh knocked that morning. He’d knocked again, because maybe Carl hadn’t been watching out the front window and hadn’t heard the knock. He’d grumbled to Josh once that he usually just left it unlocked but when his daughter found out about that she’d gotten upset. Josh knocked a third time and then a fourth. He walked around to the front of the house and looked into the living room window. He thought about calling Carl’s daughter to see if she had an extra key but decided it might be easier if he did a little breaking and entering in the name of a welfare check. He had the door unlocked in about two minutes and smiled because he figured installing a new lock would give Carl and him another project to work on. This one was flimsy as hell.
Norton came tearing around the corner the minute Josh entered the kitchen. Josh took in the overturned garbage can and the garbage on the floor as Norton jumped up on him, pawing at Josh’s chest. “Hey, buddy.” Normally the dog was as docile as they came, and Josh proceeded with caution as he rounded the corner into the living room. There was more trash by the couch, and Josh followed the trail. It was a small ranch house, with two bedrooms, a bathroom, the living room, and the kitchen on the main level, above the unfinished basement where he and Carl had done most of their work. The bedroom door was open a crack, and Josh could see Carl lying on the bed. He was fairly sure he knew what had happened but made himself check for a pulse anyway. Norton jumped up on the bed and curled his body around his owner. Except for rummaging in the trash because he hadn’t been fed, he’d probably been right here since Carl died, which was probably sometime after his daughter had checked in on him yesterday. Josh took comfort in the fact that the dog had likely been with Carl when he’d drawn his last breath, and it made him happy to know the man had spent his last days doing something he enjoyed. Josh left the room, steeling himself for the call he was about to make to Carl’s daughter.
“Where did he come from, Dad?” Sasha asked, her words muffled by the dog’s fur.
“The owner couldn’t take care of him anymore,” Josh said, and that was all she needed to know.
* * *
Sasha had not left the dog’s side. Josh was happy she didn’t ask if she could rename it. The dog was old, and a name change would likely confuse it and it had been through enough already.