He gave a lazy snicker. “Yeah. How ‘bout you just worry about taking care of me in your article. Try not to make me look like a jerk.”
“Impossible. Even if you were one, I am an excellent reporter. I’d be able to spin it.”
I gave him a wink and stood up to go. But Trip stopped me in my tracks with a grab of my wrist.
“Look. I should just shut up, but I’m gonna blame this on the head injury, here, okay?”
A jolt went through me, panicked at the thought of what he was possibly going to say. His eyes squinted as he tried to break the news gently, his voice groggy, “The thing is, you are not a hard-hitting news reporter, Lay. You just don’t have that killer instinct in you, and I say that as a compliment. Yeah, you got straight A’s in English, but you used to love art class too, remember? I’m surprised you even went into this blood-sucking field. You’re a dreamer, not a journalist. You need to create, not to report. How have you not figured this out by now? I just think you’re looking for happiness in the wrong place.”
I was surprised at his speech and stared at him, my jaw slack. He stared right back, his eyes defiant. A few seconds passed before I finally quirked a smile, then tried to make light of his hefty words. It's what I do. I crack bad jokes to break the tension. It’s always been a problem, thinking or saying something completely inappropriate to the situation at hand.
“Well, that might be something to consider after I turn this article into an award-winning exclusive, Lefty.”
“You already have the exclusive. You knew me for years before any of these other reporters. Just write that. Write about us.”
I just smiled and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, knowing he was too banged up to try anything funny. “I’ll see you around, old pal.”
We knew it wasn’t our final goodbye. It was never goodbye with us.
As I made my way down the corridor, I caught a familiar flash of honey-colored hair disappearing around the corner. I approached the cross-section of hallway, and took a peek at the nurse’s back, in her dark mauve scrubs, scurrying down the length of linoleum. I’d had this vision numerous times over the course of my life, and I’m sure the conversation I’d just had with Trip didn’t help matters any. The fact was, however, that I’d stopped running after my mother’s look-alikes years ago.
I’d been duped too many times before.
Chapter 14
GOSSIP
Bruce surrendered the car to the valet after I’d wrangled the huge, wrapped box from the backseat. I don’t know what the heck I was thinking when I’d decided on a bread machine as Jack and Livia’s engagement present. But it was on sale and I had a 20% off coupon for Bed Bath and Beyond, so I figured I’d splurge and get something off their registry.
Negotiating the stairs leading to The Brownstone was no easy feat while hauling a box the size of Texas and balancing on my high heels, however. Then again, I had kinda counted on my fiancé to be around to help me out when I bought it. But no. Apparently, it was asking too much for Devin to make an appearance at a family function. Again. I still couldn’t quite believe that he’d actually left me flat to go to that conference.
And don’t think for one minute that I missed a chance to get my digs in about that throughout the entire month of September.
Bruce was no flipping help except to hold the occasional door for me, teasing, “You should’ve just gotten them a gift certificate, like me,” pulling his single card from his breast pocket and waving it in front of my face. God. Even in our twenties, he was still such a little brother.
We navigated through to a private reception room at the back, where the first person I saw was my Aunt Eleanor. She excused herself from Livi’s parents and came over to me in a graceful flurry of elegant strides, a smile on her face. “Layla, sweetheart, that box is bigger than you!” she said, much to my chagrin, before relieving me of the bulky thing and placing it on a nearby table already crowded with presents. “How’s my girl?” she asked, finally able to greet me properly with a kiss on my cheek and a genuine hug. Hugs were Aunt Eleanor’s specialty. She never gave one of those half-assed, one-armed formalities, but always made with a genuine squeeze. She constantly doubled up on the love toward Bruce and me, partly because that’s the kind of person she was, and partly because I suspected she felt the need to make up for the guilt of her crappy sister abandoning us when I was twelve. Aunt Eleanor made up for that lost love in spades.
“Your father and Sylvia are already here,” she whispered into my ear. “She really is something, isn’t she?”
I had to agree. At first, it was strange to think of my father “dating”, but he and Sylvia had been together for a few months by then. Seeing the two of them together was really great. He looked happy. It was nice to see Aunt Eleanor on board with the whole thing.
I went over to say hello to them, hoping I wasn’t interrupting as they busily giggled near the bar.
“Hi, Dad!”