Page 18 of In the Lonely Hour

“Then what is he?”

She shrugged. “A friend. And Dior’s aide.”

“Nah, sis. I’m not going to let you reduce that man’s role in your life like that. It’s more than that and you know it.”

Layla huffed, looking both ways before they crossed the parking lot to get to the hookah lounge. “You act like I don’t have a whole husband.”

“Sis! Your husband acts like you don’t have a whole husband! Fuck Carlos. I’m team Andres.”

Layla chuckled. “You don’t even know him.”

“Real recognize real. He’s solid as fuck.”

Layla couldn’t deny that even if she wanted to. At the door, she updated her membership before they were able to head in.

“Okay, I can’t lie… I’m really feeling him. But we’re taking things slow.”

“Shit, I don’t care how you ride the wave just as long as you ride that motherfucker. You deserve it, and I don’t want you letting Carlos or anyone else stand in the way of you being with someone that makes you happy.”

Layla wrapped her arm around Lia’s shoulders and kissed her cheek. She didn’t want to admit it, but that small piece of validation was the push she needed to further convince herself that the path she was heading down with Andres was the right one.

Andres couldn’t help but get a little teary eyed. He wasn’t going to let them fall, but the gesture made him feel appreciated. Layla and Dior had fixed him dinner as thanks for all that he’d done with and for them over the past month, and the cake that Dior held with a bright smile was almost his undoing.

“Thank you, Dior.” He smiled softly. “It’s so pretty I don’t want to eat it.”

“I will eat it,” she offered, turning quickly with the cake.

“Nah I’ma eat it,” Andres clarified before laughing.

“I will cut us all a slice after dinner.” Layla’s head shook as she grabbed three plates out of the cabinet. “Dior don’t play about sweets.”

“I see.”

Andres took a few pictures of the cake and his plate once it was fixed. It hadn’t registered in his brain that Layla was up to something when she asked what his favorite meal was. Now, he couldn’t wait to dig into the meatloaf, mashed sweet potatoes, and fresh green beans.

Layla gasped when Dior set her plate on the dining room table between hers and his. She looked over her plate, inspecting its contents, before heading back to the kitchen for something else. As Layla covered her mouth her eyes watered.

“What’s wrong?” Andres asked, making his way over to her.

“Shenevereats at the dining room table. She always eats dinner by herself in her room.”

“For how long?”

Layla’s head shook as she blinked back her tears. “It’s been years, Dre. I think since she was ten. That’s when it started getting harder for me and Carlos to fake the funk. Everything started changing around that time.”

Dior returned with a roll and set it on the edge of her plate before sitting down.

“Dior,” Layla called sweetly. Hesitantly.

“Yes?”

“I’m really happy you’re eating dinner with us.” Dior’s head tilted as she stared at her mother. “Can you tell me why?”

“When I eat dinner with you and daddy y’all make my stomach hurt. When I eat with Mr. Dre my stomach is happy.”

Andres smiled. “The environment in which you eat your meals plays a big part in your digestion. If the vibe is off or the energy is negative around dinner time, it can not only effect you emotionally but physically as well. The heart may be the seat of our emotions, but the gut holds and stores our emotional experiences with other people. So it makes a lot of sense that she would be upset and finding it harder to enjoy and digest her meal if you and Carlos were tense or arguing during dinner.”

“Wow. I didn’t even… but that makes…” Layla’s head shook before she weakly plopped down in her seat. Layla took Andres’s hand into hers and kissed it before thanking him quietly.

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