“What am I going to do?” she asked aloud, not knowing whom she was asking. Herself, maybe? She didn’t have any answers.
Frustrated, she wiped at her face, but the tears wouldn’t stop. Not after standing under the water until it went cold. Not after she’d dried herself off and gotten into her warm winter robe. Not when she shuffled her way back to the living room to find her cell phone—which thankfully still had a little charge left in it, even though she didn’t know when she’d last remembered to plug it in.
She turned it over and over in her hand, then got under the blanket on the sofa once more, hanging on to her phone so tightly the edge bit into her hand. But she knew what she had to do. She took a breath and dialed.
CHAPTER
Eleven
SHE HEARD KITTY use the key she’d given her when she moved into the house; then the front door opened and her friend walked in, her blond brows drawn together in concern.
“Oh, honey. It’s worse than I thought.” Kitty moved to the sofa and sat down, pulling Layla into her warm embrace. “Why didn’t you tell me how bad off you were? Why wouldn’t you let me come before now?”
She buried her face in Kitty’s shoulder. “I couldn’t stand the sympathy. I don’t know if I can stand it now—I can’t seem to deal with anything. Oh, God, Kitty, what a mess I’ve made. My father was right about me. I’m irresponsible.”
“First of all, your father is an asshole. Okay? You may not be comfortable saying it, but I certainly am. And second, you are not irresponsible. Shit happens. You got lost in a moment of passion, and the odds were that nothing would have come of it. But, honey, you’re having a baby. How can a baby be a bad thing?”
“But, Kitty, it’s me. And shit . . . I told Duff to go away. I told him about the baby, and then he said he loved me and—”
“He did what?”
“He said he loved me. Right after I told him about the baby, so I knew he didn’t mean it. He couldn’t possibly.” She pulled back to look at Kitty, wiping her runny nose on the sleeve of her robe. “Could he?”
“Why wouldn’t he? I love you.”
“I didn’t just tell you that you’re going to be a father.”
“That’s true, but it would have been kinda weird if you had.”
“Don’t try to cheer me up, Kitty.”
“Okay. Let’s talk logic instead. He came over here after a long day at work and you let him know you’re pregnant.”
She sniffed. “Yes.”
“Then he said he loved you.”
“Yes.”
“But despite the fact the man can’t keep his hands off you, wants to see you nearly every night despite working his admittedly big, tight tail off to open a new business—which is a lifelong dream, if I remember it all correctly—has taken you out, wined and dined you, spoons you in his sleep, has confided some pretty deep stuff to you and generally acts as if he’s smitten—a word you yourself used to describe it—you still can’t convince yourself that he actually might just be in love with you?”
“Um . . . I need a moment to absorb all that.”
“Go ahead. I’m here.”
“I’ll admit it makes sense. Sort of. Except for the part that still feels I don’t deserve it somehow.” She paused, wanting to think about why she felt that way, but all she knew was that she had, for as long as she could remember. But her last conversation with Kitty had been the first time the idea had been conscious, and definitely the first time she’d said anything like that out loud. Which didn’t make it any less true. And how sad and awful was that? “I know it’s because of my dad—all those years of him being disappointed in me for no reason, really. I was a pretty good kid. And if I let that feeling make my decisions for me, then my asshole father has won, hasn’t he?”
“Yep.”
“If he wins, then this baby in my belly loses.”
Kitty’s blue eyes welled up. “Yeah.”
Layla laid a hand over her still-flat tummy. “I don’t know if I can let that happen. But, Kitty, what if I’m too late? I was kind of a raging bitch to Duff.”
“Do you love the man?”
Layla smiled through her tears. “Yes. I love him. I do.”
“I thought so. Then you have to try. For all of you.”
“Where do I start?”
“By getting your damn hair in order, and I’m just the woman to do it. Come on.”
? ? ?
SHE’D DRIVEN BY the shop first, but the lights were off. Granted, it was after nine at night, and the place should have been nearing completion, so the guys shouldn’t have had to stay so late at this point. Pulling back onto the road, she headed toward his place on Kerlerec Street as a light rain began to fall. By the time she reached the pretty Victorian, the rain had started to really come down, and unfortunately there wasn’t a parking spot open on his block. After driving around for ten minutes with her pulse racing so fast it was making her dizzy, she settled on a spot two blocks away, got out and ran down the street. By the time she reached his door she was pretty well soaked, but she didn’t care—she barely felt it. All that mattered was what she needed to say to Duff, what she had to get through to him.
Ringing the buzzer, she waited breathlessly, praying he was home. Praying he would answer the door if he looked out the window and saw it was her. She waited. And rang again. Still no answer. Defeated, she turned to head back to her car, uncertain what to do next.
“Layla? Are you crazy?”
She turned, and there he was, standing in the open doorway to his building. He was so damn handsome her breath caught.
“Yes. I probably am.”
“Good Lord, woman. Get out of the rain.”
Stepping out onto the sidewalk, he grabbed her arm and pulled her inside, into the dark stairwell, then kept his hand at her elbow as they went up the narrow staircase, then into the flat.
“Hang on,” he said, leaving her by the door while he disappeared, coming back a few moments later with a towel. He started to reach for her, as if to dry her off; then he seemed to think better of it and handed the towel to her instead.