Layla wanted me to tell her I showed up early, and going against her wishes is probably a shitty idea. But Axelle’s a smart girl. And lying to her will only make her not trust me. The last thing this girl needs in her life is another man she can’t trust.
“Yeah, I did.” I put down my coffee mug and lean against the counter, ankles crossed. “Not gonna lie to you, Axelle. I’m crazy about your mom. Spending the night without her sucks. But if you’re uncomfortable, I’ll stop.” I will. It’ll be painful, but I’d do it if it means gaining Axelle’s trust.
She takes a long sip of her coffee, then another. Her sky blue eyes lock on mine, and I can tell that she’s thinking hard about something. “Do you love her?”
Twenty-six
Blake
My throat swells. I cough, clearing my airway to speak. How the hell do I answer that? Do I love her? Do I? I pound my chest a couple times and look everywhere but at Axelle.
“Are you all right?” Layla—thank God—emerges from the hallway in a robe, with a towel wrapped around her head.
“Fine.” I cough again. “Yeah, fine.” Shit, talk about a sucker-punch. Where the fuck did that question come from?
Layla gives Axelle shit for having coffee, but her tone is teasing and lighthearted. They talk about something—what, I have no idea. I’m stuck on Axelle’s question. If I were forced at gunpoint to answer that question, I’m pretty sure I’d get shot. How would a guy like me even know what love is?
Jonah and Owen claim to be in love. They’re protective, possessive, and would sell their own balls if it made their women happy. I suppose I feel the same about Layla. But how do I know for sure? And in order to love someone, don’t they have to love back? My head pounds as my thoughts travel down a road of confusion and unanswered questions.
If I think back hard enough, I can remember a time when my mom loved my dad. He always treated her like a second-class citizen, but she took good care of him. Met him each morning with coffee and breakfast, and welcomed him home to a warm meal every night. She took care of him when he was sick and made sure he never needed for anything. Just like I try to do for Layla.
But love? That’s something that would have to be returned to be genuine. I scrub my face. I wouldn’t know love if it cold-cocked me. What I do know is emotional manipulation and control. After sixteen years of practice, Layla’s an expert at putting on the show of affection, but she’s just as lost as I am. Between my dad and her ex, we’re both brainwashed and bruised.
And if we did feel it, really feel it, could we trust it?
“…Blake told me.”
I focus on the girls at the sound of Axelle saying my name. “Huh?”
Layla cocks her sexy hip, her hand planted firmly on it. “You told her.”
“Huh?” Dammit, I sound like an idiot.
My woman smiles and shakes her head slowly. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”
Axelle giggles into her coffee mug. “It’s cool, Blake. You’re not in trouble. Mom and I decided no more secrets. I’m fine if you spend the night. It’s nice having a guy around, you know, to kill bugs and take out the trash.”
Fuck, if that’s the only reason they’d want me around, I’d kill every bug in this place and run trash to the dumpster walking on my hands. Is that love?
“I’ve got to get ready for school.” Axelle smiles and disappears behind her bedroom door.
Layla stares down the empty space Axelle left behind. Seconds tick, and she doesn’t move.
“Mouse?” I cross to her and tip her chin to get her eyes. “You okay?”
She blinks, her eyes shining. “I’m great, I was just dreaming.”
“Dreaming?” I drop a kiss to the tip of her nose and then her lips. “You’re not asleep.”
A shaky smile pulls at her lips. “Yeah, that’s the best part.”
Layla
“Are you sure I don’t look like a slutty college girl?” I ask Axelle, holding my arms out and spinning in a slow circle.
She laughs and swipes on a final coat of lip gloss. “Okay, fine. Yes, you look like a slutty college girl. The Snake will love it.”
I jerk my arms down and glare at my daughter. We went shopping for two straight days to find the perfect dresses for tonight. I liked a simple, yet very short black dress with spaghetti straps, but Axelle insisted that because it’s Valentine’s Day, I have to wear red. Thankfully, I look great in red.
Checking my cleavage for the third time, I bend over into the mirror to make sure the stretchy fabric stays put. I fiddle with the red satin bow that runs around my ribs and ties in the back. I look a little like a present that needs opening. Axelle’s right. Blake’s going to love it.
“Which shoes did you decide on?” I motion to the row of shoes that we’ve been trying on for the last hour.
Axelle scoops up a pair of black peep-toed pumps. She then tosses me a pair of red suede platform pumps with a thin ankle strap. “You wear these. They’ll be perfect.”