Page 69 of The Playboy's Playbook

“Come on, Laila. You’ve had enough excitement for today,” Erica says to Laila before she cuts her eyes to me. “Plus, I think you have some explaining to do, Foster.”

Laila closes her eyes and steps around Erica, walking to Isaac. “Isaac,” she says softly. He smiles softly at Laila and places a small kiss on her forehead.

“I promise I won’t punch him. Hard,” Isaac says, half serious, half joking.

Laila looks back at me with worry in her eyes. I nod, letting her know that I’ll be okay. Whatever lashing Isaac has out for me can’t be worse than how I’ve been feeling for the last year.

Laila walks over to me, places her hand on my chest, and opens her mouth as if she’s about to say something. Before she can, I cut her off with a small kiss on her lips. If the kiss she gave me earlier was just a fluke or a spur-of-the-moment impulse, I’m going to take full advantage of this opportunity and kiss her as much as I can before she remembers she’s mad at me.

“I’ll call you, okay?” I reassure her.

She nods and heads to the passenger side of the car. Once she’s settled, Erica turns over the engine and pulls out of the parking lot, leaving Isaac and I alone. Isaac walks up beside me and puts his hand on my shoulder.

“Walk with me, Matty. You’ve got some explaining to do.”

I nod and we walk the length of the nature trail. “So, where do you want me to start?”

I tell Isaac everything. From the time Laila and I first got together to the day she found out about my arrest. I gave him the entire rundown of our summer fling, sans our intimate moments. Those are for Laila and me.

“Do you love her?” Isaac asks once we circle back to the pavilion, which has since been cleared and emptied of our classmates.

“With my whole heart. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, man. I know you two are close, but I just…”

“Wanted to enjoy having her for yourself,” Isaac finishes for me.

I nod. “Yeah. We were in this bubble and we were good. Happy. In love. Well, at least I was. She hasn’t said anything about that. But being with her, she made life so easy and worth it. I wanted to be the best version of myself for her. She gave me something worth fighting for, but then I fucked it.”

Isaac shakes his head. “You didn’t fuck it. I know my little cousin and I can see that she is all in for you. I can see that you are head over heels for her. Now, had you not been my best friend, I probably would’ve had you lookin’ like Jason right about now for breaking her heart.”

We both chuckle and sit in silence for a beat longer. The air stills around us as the sun begins to set in the late afternoon.

“You only get to experience people once in your life. You are one of the rare, fortunate souls who have gotten to experience Laila. If she truly didn’t give a rat’s ass about you anymore, I don’t think she would’ve kissed you like you were the oxygen she needs to breathe,” Isaac says, glancing back over in my direction.

“More like she’s the oxygen I need,” I lament.

“How long have you been sober?” Isaac asks.

“A year.”

“Well, I’m proud of you, Matty. And I’m confident that one way or another, you and Laila will find your way back to one another,” Isaac says as he stands from the table.

I follow suit and we walk to our trucks. I’m about to climb into mine and head home to shower and freshen up before I go pick up Clay and Jen from their uncle’s house when Issac stops me. “Matty.”

“Yeah?”

“You hurt Laila again, I’ll have no choice but to beat your pretty boy face in,” Isaac says, half joking, half serious.

I shake my head and smile softly. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Once I picked the boys up, they were out like a light and slept the whole way back to Luke’s house. I carried both of them inside because the last thing I want to do is wake them up and have to deal with them fully energized.

Making the transfers to their beds is the hardest part, but somehow I did it without waking them up. I made sure they were tucked in and left their night light on and finally retreated to my room.

I know I told Laila that I’d call her later, but I can’t help the self-doubt that creeps in.

What if she actually doesn’t want me to call her? What if I need to let her go? Hell, what if she changed her number and I’m about to speak to some poor old woman about her Internet connection.

“God, Matty, stop being a baby,” I say to myself, reaching for my phone just as it starts ringing. Laila’s name and picture pops up on the screen and I immediately answer.

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