I can’t help but think something’s going on all around me but I’m oblivious to it all. When I look at Cameron, he only scowls and shakes his head. That’s non-verbal guy speak for don’t fucking ask me, I’m just as lost as you, brother.
Whatever it is I brush it off to pregnancy hormones and girl shit and hand Layla her phone. “Debra Thompson is calling you back to talk about Axelle in two hours.”
“Great, yeah.” She tucks her hair behind her ears. “That’s . . . great. Okay.”
I tilt my head, studying her. “You upset about the email?”
“No, no.” She shakes her head convincingly. “It’s not that. It’s just . . .” She exhales long and hard. “I’m tired, but can’t sleep.” Her hands brace on our baby. “I’m uncomfortably huge, but can’t do anything about it. I’m starving, but can’t fit more than a teaspoon of food in my stomach at a time. My joints are all loosey-goosey, my feet are swollen, and I’m just so ready to have this baby and yet completely terrified at the same time.” She blinks up at me.
I’m stunned silent, shaking my head.
“What?”
“Fuck!” I rub the back of my neck. “I had no idea.”
“Yeah, welcome to my world of crazy.” A tiny blush hits her cheeks.
“Brae was going to stop by for dinner tonight, but I’ll call him and cancel. I don’t want—”
She perks up. “Mmm . . . are you barbequing?”
“Yeah.” I try to hold back my grin.
“Don’t cancel.” She licks her lips as if she can already taste the food.
Warmth explodes in my chest. Fuck, I love this woman and I hate to see her hurting, and even seeing her uncomfortable is a kick in the nuts. I tug her to me, and she collapses into my chest. “Bossy Mouse.”
My conversation with Brae in the weight room comes back to me. This woman is so deep under my skin there’s nothing I wouldn’t do or sacrifice to keep her, even if it meant my own happiness.
It’s nothing like what my mom goes through with my dad, but for the first time, I can see where her devotion to The General comes from.
She loves him so deep down in her soul that torture with him is better than the pain of never having him around. I inhale Layla’s hair and feel the shift in my heart where my mother is concerned.
Is it possible she’s not as bad as I thought?
*
Layla
It’s just before sunset and I’m in the kitchen throwing together the finishing touches on a fresh salad while Blake and Braeden entertain Axelle on the patio and grill steaks. It’s amazing how much the brothers look alike: same build, dirty blond hair, and those cutting green eyes that Blake says they get from their father, who I’ve yet to meet.
Blake hasn’t talked about him much, but I know his dad is the one who kept him from his gift with music, so I already don’t like the guy. But watching their easy laughter and the way they’re tuned in to Axelle as she talks about school and her future move to college makes me wonder how bad The General could be to raise two great sons.
I slide the bowl into the fridge and move outside to join the conversation. Before my feet even cross the threshold of the sliding glass doors, Blake’s eyes dart to me. I can almost hear his thoughts as he takes in my socked and Ugg-booted feet, leggings, and sweatshirt.
Yes, Blake, I’m warm enough.
His gaze lands on mine and softens before he flashes his signature crooked smile. That look warms me with a different kind of heat, which makes me want to strip naked and fan myself.
He pulls up a chair next to his and nods to it while staying in the conversation with Braeden and Axelle.
“I just can’t decide between getting an apartment with some roommates and living in the dorms.” Axelle twirls a long strand of her hair.
“Dorms.” Blake leans back and takes a long pull off his beer.
“I’m with Blake.” Brae nods. “Dorms.”
“You’d think that would be the cheaper option, but it’s not. I mean”—she shrugs and picks at strings that hang from the hole in the knee of her jeans—“I saw an ad for some people searching for a roommate for only $250 a month. I’d get my own room and—”
“No fuckin’ way, Axelle.” Blake shakes his head, eyes closed as if he refuses to hear another word.
I open my mouth to reprimand him for his language, but it never helps, so I keep my lips shut.
He rubs his head, irritated. “You’re not moving in with people you don’t know.”
She drops her head back with an exasperated groan. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”
“Honey, don’t get upset.” I lean forward and rub her forearm. “He’s right. You don’t want to shack up with a bunch of strangers. They could be psychos or hoarders or guys.”
Blake points to me. “Exactly.”