Page 7 of In the Lonely Hour

“Well I’m gonna go,” Carolyn announced with a wide grin. She gently pushed Layla further into his office.

As the door closed behind her, the otherwise spacious room seemed to shrink in size. And heat. Stepping closer, Layla found herself enveloped by his woodsy, citrusy scent. Inhaling deep lungs full, she cupped her hands in front of her and rocked on her heels. Clearing his throat, he motioned for her to have a seat in one of the chairs on the opposite end of his desk. She did, noticing the nameplate that spelled outAndres.

“So how can I help you?” he asked, sitting across from her.

“I don’t think I need help. Well, I do, but I was hoping it would come from my husband. That’s obviously not going to happen, so Carolyn suggested maybe you could help.”

Andres nodded. “Why don’t I tell you who I am and what I do, then you can decide if there’s anything I can do for you.”

That sounded fair enough, so Layla agreed with a nod.

She listened intently as he gave her a brief rundown of how he was not just an advocate for both children and adults with Autism but an aide as well. He helped children and their parents come up with structured routines and plans for any phase of life and when needed he offered his services with in-home caregiving and help. In addition to his help, he also headed the Caregivers Union within the Martin community center and nonprofit foundation. The more he talked, the sexier he became.

Sure, his browned butter complexion, patchy, scruffy beard, and freckled nose were already attractive… but the more he talked about his passion, the more turned on Layla became. Atone point, she’d drowned his voice out altogether, focusing only on the movement of his sexy ass lips.

“Does it sound like I can be of service to you?”

Her brows wrinkled and she stared at him for a few seconds, willing her brain to replay the last words he’d said.

“Um…” She chuckled softly. “I’m still not exactly sure. I mean, yes. It does sound like you can, I’m just not sure if I want help. I know that sounds silly but…”

“I get it,” he assured quickly. “Son or daughter?”

“Daughter.” Layla smiled. “She’s thirteen and about to start high school. Her name is Dior, and she’s majestically beautiful and bright. Dior has Asperger’s. I’ve been her primary caregiver since birth. Our biggest struggle has been interaction with other people. She does have the standard mark of A.S. when it comes to her socialization skills and communication but it’s a very low mark. Up until now, she’s stayed to herself for the most part. Since she’s starting high school, she’s expressed interest in wanting to make a friend that she can celebrate her fourteenth birthday with in August.” Covering her mouth as her chin trembled, Layla paused and dried her teary eyes. “I thought this would be a momentous occasion for our family, but when I told her father, he didn’t really care at all.” Breath and body shuddering, she used that to release her brewing anger. “He decided to take that time to let me know he wanted to turn our legal separation into divorce after her first year of high school. I was telling the group about that, and they suggested I speak with you.”

Andres stood and made his way around the desk. Sitting next to her, he took her right hand into his and topped it with his free hand.

“I’m sorry that you’re going through all of this, but I’m confident that I can help. What makes what my team and I do so special is that we don’t just help the kids in our program; wehelp their parents too. After meeting with Dior and making sure I’m a good fit for her, I can, with confidence, help her prepare for high school, making friends, and accepting your divorce. I can also make sure you are at your best during this time as well. Help with Dior means relief for you. I can make sure you get the rest and care you need so that you can continue to be all that Dior needs. That’s if you’re willing to accept my help.”

Layla nibbled on her bottom lip. Up until this point, she hadn’t seen the benefit of having help. But in a short amount of time, Andres had broken things down to her in a way that made it seem necessary. Her eyes scanned his face, taking in small features like his pierced ears and short, curly, tapered haircut. Anything would be a better focus than how calming his presence was.

“How much would this cost? My husband wants me to get a job in preparation for the divorce, so I don’t know how much I’ll have to spare because I doubt if it will be covered by our insurance.”

Andres smiled softly, caressing her palm with his thumb. “Don’t worry about that. Right now, all I need is a yes.”

The word tumbled from her lips before she could even process it. His smile widened as he released her hand and stood. Making his way back to his original seat, Andres told her that he was proud of her for taking that step and assured her that she wouldn’t regret it. After calling his assistant to come in and gather some information for her, he asked her for her name.

“Layla,” she answered sweetly.

“It’s nice to officially meet you, Layla. I have to admit, I was hoping I’d see you again. The circumstance wasn’t one I expected, but it’s really good to see you again.”

Layla’s lips parted, and her expression softened.

“What circumstance would you have preferred?”

“One that would have allowed me to ask you out.” Surprised by his honesty, Layla didn’t reply right away, giving him time to add, “But that’s dead. From this point forward, it’s all about you and Dior professionally. You have my word.”

Her stomach clenched, and she placed her hand over it. She wanted to smile and nod… approve of his control and detachment… but a part of her wished that wasn’t his choice.

Though that was what she needed, Layla couldn’t deny the disappointment over that not being what she wanted. Sure this was for the best, she nodded, heart filling with gratitude over the start of what she was sure would be things getting better for both her and Dior.

Andres felt as if his initial meeting with Dior was a success. Their conversation had the flow of an interview. Dior only answered his questions, briefly at that. He noticed how she rocked in thought of her answers. Other than that, and the rhythmic way she sounded out words with three syllables, they had a perfectly normal conversation. More than anything, Andres wanted to get a feel for what Dior could express as her own wants and needs and if she would be comfortable around him.

She mentioned wanting a new friend and told him some of her hobbies—art of any kind, learning about animals and collecting toy stuffed animals, and flowers and gardening. The flowers and gardening were because of her mother. Layla was the one fascinated by them, and Dior learned about it as a result.By the end of their conversation, Andres was confident that he and his team could help Dior with her socialization skills.

He took both Dior and Layla to one of their art rooms, and Dior was so overwhelmed by everything inside her rocking and breathing went into overdrive. Instantly, Layla tried to go over to her, but Andres stopped her.

“Let her feel what she’s feeling,” he suggested. “That’s the only way she will be able to process it and self-soothe. If she doesn’t snap out of it in one minute, then you can go to her.”

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