Page 6 of Until Then

I’ve tried to find a man who had the potential, but each time I find one I think may be a genuinely good guy, lo and behold, the shine wears off and he ends of using me for some sort of connection.

In LA, I swear there isn’t a single line that people believe isn’t meant to be crossed.

“I’m going to go,” I tell her. “I need to go see if they have a room.”

“All right, but summers are busy here, so if they’re booked, come back. Stay with me.”

“I will.”

I won’t.

Two hourslater I find myself at my assistant’s apartment. It was by pure happenstance that I hired Layla. Maybe it was even downright freaky, because she’s from the same small town my sister now calls home. All the work I need an assistant for is virtual, so when I was looking, I didn’t limit my search to LA. Layla has been a godsend, helping respond to emails, manage my schedule, and even edit the occasional video when I’m too busy.

“It’s the lumpiest couch in existence.” She cringes. “I’m sorry. Your back is going to scream at you in the morning.”

When I set Wonton down, he immediately takes off to sniff the corner of said couch.

Layla’s little girl is nowhere to be seen. Judging by the late hour, she is probably already in bed.

“A lumpy couch is better than the park bench I was contemplating.”

I filled her in on the Reid and Via situation when I called, desperate for a place to stay. After much gagging on her end, since Reid is her little brother, she promised I could stay with her, just as long as I was okay with sleeping on the couch.

The inn is booked until what feels like the end of time—or through the summer, whichever comes first.

“Let me grab a pillow and blankets for you.” With that, Layla disappears down the small, dark hallway.

My shoulders sag in relief. Her apartment is small, so accommodating me isn’t ideal, but she didn’t bat an eye.

Though this isn’t a long-term solution. I can’t stay here,taking up space, for more than a night or two. I might have to go back to LA after all.

The thought makes my chest tight. It makes me want to scream.

When I moved to LA years ago, it was full of opportunities for my social media career, and many of the friends I had made as I built my business were living there, too. As much as I loved it back then, it hasn’t held the same appeal over the last couple of years.

Layla returns with a stack of blankets and sets them on the edge of the couch before going back for pillows.

I’m surveying the room when Wonton growls at the kitchen cabinet, pulling my attention to him. Sometimes I wonder what’s going on in his doggy mind. Why is the kitchen cabinet so threatening?

“All right, this is all I’ve got.”

Heart easing, I take the pillows from a smiling Layla. “Thanks for letting me crash here. I’ll try to make other arrangements tomorrow.”

“Are you hungry?”

“I’m good.” I give her a dismissive wave, but at the same time, my stomach rumbles, contradicting me.

With a laugh, Layla wanders to the fridge. The surface of it is covered with an array of magnets and family photos. “I have leftover Kraft mac ’n’ cheese—princess-shaped, obviously. There’s turkey and ham if you’re okay with a sandwich.”

My stomach rumbles again. “I’ll take the mac ’n’ cheese.”

Layla heats it in the microwave while I fit the sheets and blankets onto the couch.

As I work, exhaustion from the day sets in. I travel often, and normally, it doesn’t faze me, but after the Lux debacle Ifind myself wearier than I ever remember feeling, no matter what I’m doing.

When my makeshift bed is made, Layla sets the warm bowl on the counter, along with a fork. “You can use my shower, too.”

“Bless you.” I sidle up to the cabinets and rest a forearm on the Formica.

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