“Yep. Just give me a minute.”
I hung up with Sandy and spent my wait looking at the unconditional love I was holding in my hands. And I knew for certain that that’s what it was. That’s what he wanted me to know. I started thinking about the events from the day before, piecing together what had really been going on. He already knew he loved me before ever showing up to my apartment. Hell, the first thing he did when he walked in the door was to ask if the package had been sent.
And oh, God! The things he’d said! How come I just couldn’t hear him? I replayed every sweet and wonderful thing he’d told me the day before, tortured myself with it. Give me another chance at this. We’re so great together. I want you. I’ve always wanted you.
I could barely breathe through the knot in my throat, the tears gathering at my eyes, the pang that threatened to crush my heart. What a nasty witch I was to him. What a stupid, insecure, wretched, nasty witch I was. I’d thought he was only trying to talk his way into my bed, but as it turns out, he was actually trying to talk his way into my heart.
As if he hadn’t lived there all along.
I had loved this man once. Hell, I knew then that I still did. Every part of him. I heard his voice in my head, his simple confession on the day we’d said goodbye all those many years ago: I’m in love with you, Layla. For the first time in years, I allowed the memory to take root, to grow outward, to fill my entire being. I was in love with this man. I always had been. There was no denying it any longer.
Twenty minutes. It took Sandy twenty, whole, excruciating minutes before she called me back.
When she did, I answered on the first ring. “Hello?”
Her voice was drained, but firm. “Miss Warren,” So we’re back to Miss Warren, are we? “I’ve just spoken with Mr. Wiley, and I’m sorry, but he has specifically requested that I do not give you his phone number.”
“I didn’t know, Sandy! I just got it today, I swear!”
“I’m not sure what you’re referring to, all I know is that Mr. Wiley has made it very clear that he doesn’t wish to speak to you. I’m only delivering his message.”
“Did he tell you? Did he tell you that he’s in love with me? Please, Sandy. I need to talk to him!”
Sandy’s voice sounded distraught, but her words were rather cold. “I think you’ve already told him enough.”
I blurted, “Sandy! Wait!” but she had hung up. I immediately called her back, but the call just rang and rang and rang. So did the next three.
I realized it was fruitless, trying to get her to disobey her boss’s wishes. Trip was the one signing her paychecks, not me. And I couldn’t even imagine what his side of the story must’ve sounded like to Sandy’s ears. Probably had a few choice adjectives to describe me as well. I guessed the extended amount of time it took for her to call me back was Trip relaying every detail of how he’d laid his heart out, practically begged me to take him back… and I’d rejected him.
But still. How could I give up now?
If I could just talk to him, tell him my side of things, everything would be okay. Hell, everything would be fantastic.
I had to see him. I checked my bank account and my credit cards. I had enough to get to California.
I picked up the phone to book a flight, but had a moment of hesitation. I mean, was I just supposed to decide to start a whole new life on a whim? Because, how would that work anyway? He lived on the completely opposite end of the country. My life was here.
Although… It’s not like I had a job to keep me here any longer. And as far as my apartment, I’d been on a month-to-month lease after that very first year. I could just give my notice and collect the deposit. Between that and the severance from Howell, I could live off the money until I could straighten things out with Trip. And hell. I’d even have a job lined up when I got there. Maybe I could take that publishing deal and write that book. I could do that anywhere, right?
Lisa did it. You find the man you know you’re supposed to be with, you do whatever you have to do in order to be with him.
I could do it.
I could give up my apartment in the city that I loved. I could move away from New York, from New Jersey, live in a strange new place three thousand miles away from my family, from my friends, my home. I could face my fears and head off into an unfamiliar new world, a mysterious new life.
I could do it for Trip.
And from that point on, doing it was the only thing I allowed myself to focus on. I didn’t worry about how irrational a plan it was, didn’t analyze the choice I was making, didn’t think about taking such a chance on the unknown for once.