Page 35 of Her Counterfeit Christmas
The door from the hallway opens, and we pull apart to look.
Owen.
He takes a step back and glances between us in confusion. “Layla, were you outside?”
I step away from Spencer and pull my cardigan tighter around me. I’m chilled through, still shivering. But more significant in this moment is that Owen’s seeing me in my pajamas with my hair falling out of my ponytail. Then I hatemyself for caring. Owen is a distraction I can’t afford. Literally.
Spencer looks between us before shaking his head and sitting back down at his desk. “What did you want now, Owen?”
“I, uh, can’t find my phone.”
He comes closer to where I stand and looks at the loveseat. His phone lays on a cushion.
“Must’ve fallen out of my pocket.” He meets my eyes, and my stomach swoops.
Time to get out of here.
“Good night,” I say to both men as I walk past them and out into the hallway. I hurry toward the staircase, but not fast enough.
“Layla, wait,” Owen calls out quietly from behind me.
Against my best judgment, I stop and turn. I expect him to question my motives and why I’m here, like he did with Spencer. This is his first opportunity since we arrived, and I feel I owe him something after last night.
“Look, Owen, I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have gone with you to the drive-in. I’m sorry I ran off so suddenly, but I…” My words dry up, unsure how to explain the last thirty hours. He guessed Spencer was marrying me for his inheritance and Spencer told him I’m marrying for money. That’s the truth. What more is there to say?
Owen looks away, a small, sad smile on his lips. “It’s better that you ran. I might have kissed you, and I’m not the cheating type.”
My mouth flaps open and closed. I would’ve enjoyed a kiss, and it’s mean of him to tell me what I missed out on. It can never happen now.
“You have beautiful blue eyes,” he says quietly. “They look almost teal next to your sweater.”
I close my eyes to hide. Why am I torn between two men?Thesetwo men in particular? I have chosen Spencer, but I still want Owen.
I’m a horrible person.
OWEN
Layla is absolutely gorgeous. Her hair is a halo around her face. Her disheveled appearance reminds me of the first time I saw her as she rushed into the Brock Pine recreation room six months ago. She’s even more beautiful now. Her arms wrap around her stomach like she can’t get warm, and her shoulders shake as she continues to shiver.
The things I learned about her from Spencer tonight don’t jibe with the woman who so selflessly gives of her time to play songs for senior citizens. She visits her grandma almost every day. She’s kind to everyone, residents and staff alike. They’ve told me how they’re invisible to most people, but not Layla. I’ve dated women who are more interested in my money than in me, and that isn’t her.
Sadly, I will never discover the truth. From what Spencer said, they plan on marrying. To me, she can only ever be the wife of my obnoxious cousin.
I’ve saved up a lot of questions to ask her, but now that I have a chance, it’s better if I don’t start. She’s made her choice, and I will respect it by not digging into what’s really going on between her and Spencer. If it’s money she wants,it’s better she gets it from him. That isn’t the kind of relationship I’m looking for.
I shouldn’t have mentioned my desire to kiss her or complimented her eyes. In the future, I need to keep similar thoughts to myself.
“You don’t owe me an explanation,” I say. “I wanted to wish you a good night. Are you okay? You look cold.”
“I’m fine.”
Nothing I can do here. I move around her to go up the stairs.
“Wait,” she says. “Can you tell me where you run? I’d like to go tomorrow morning, but I don’t know where to go.”
“Spencer knows this place better than me. You can ask him.”
She glances over her shoulder in the direction of the office door. “I did, but I don’t think he’ll remember to text directions.”
