Page 12 of Castaway Whirlwind
“She’s young,” Renee answers.
“How young?”
“Mid-twenties.”
Francisco shoots me a surprised look that quickly turns disapproving. His daughter with his ex-wife, who passed away a year before he and Renee met, is Layla’s age. Ángela couldn’t join us since she’s traveled to New York for a conference, unfortunately.
“You don’t have to tell me she’s too young. I already know,” I say, staring down into my glass.
“And she’s engaged.” There isn’t any derision in Renee’s sad voice when she adds that little-bigtidbit, but there should be.
Francisco opens his mouth, and I cut him off. “I know, I know. It ain’t right.” I sigh. “I haven’t pursued anything. And I won’t. Barely even look at her.”
He nods. “Good.”
Maybe some men would get defensive at Francisco’s judgment regarding my infatuation with Layla, but I know he’s right. It’s good that I stay away from her when I can. Keep myself in check when I can’t. Not let anyone know that I sit in my truck parked on the tree side of her road with a cooler full of snacks and drinks when Steven is out late at night just to make sure she’s safe.
The sliding glass door to the living room opens, and the three of us turn to watch Paul jog across the deck in his sweatshirt and pants with my phone I had left on the kitchen counter outstretched in his hand. “It’s Jared. There’s an emergency.”
I take the phone as soon as I’m out of the hot tub, hustling inside out of the frigid air with a towel around my waist. “Whathappened?”
Jared speaks in a hush, “You might wanna come home, boss. We got trouble.”
I put him on speaker so I can drop my phone on my bedroom’s wooden dresser while I finish toweling off. “What kind of trouble?”
“It’s Layla.”
I brace my hands on the sturdy furniture to keep from falling when my knees buckle, my heart slamming into my rib cage. Abandoning everything but my billfold and keys, I throw on my sweatshirt and jeans from this morning and yank open the door, finding everyone gathered in the hall on the other side.
“I’m sorry. I have to leave,” I tell them, hating that I have to cut the time spent with my son short, praying I don’t disappoint him.
Paul steps forward with my boots in hand, and as soon as I have them on, he claps me on the shoulder. In a deadly serious manner, he says, “Call me as soon as you know your woman is safe.”
If I had time, I’d ask how the hellheknows about my obsession with Layla, but for now, I give him a grateful hug, and then I’m gone, speeding in my rental car toward the airport.
Chapter 4
Layla
Since asking my mom, stepdad, or brother for help isn’t an option I’m willing or able to explore, after pawning the engagement ring, I have enough for the security deposit I’ll need to rent the studio apartment I saw advertised on a banner hanging from the railing of a small apartment complex on my way to Violet’s house. It’ll be the first time I’ve lived on my own, which I’m loath to admit scares me almost as much as Steven’s behavior.
Violet and I stay up late sitting on her purple velvet sectional, calculating the cost and how many more hours I’ll need to pick up in order to afford the apartment by myself after dipping into my savings to pay the first and last month’s rent required to move in.
Violet pats my arm when I slouch, rubbing my tired eyes after staring at the budgeting spreadsheet we made on her laptop. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay here? We can turn the nursery into a guest bedroom, and you can stay as long as you need.”
I turn to look at my best friend and sometimes employer.Violet left Granny’s when she started her small business shortly after I helped her plan Dolly and Wyatt’s wedding, currently working out of one of her three bedrooms until her business grows large enough for her to need a brick-and-mortar office in town. We’re just as close as when I saw her every day at the diner, though, and I help her from time to time with weddings when she can afford to hire me—just one of the many, many odd jobs I’ve picked up over the years.
I reach across and rub her baby bump, her second round of IVF having been successful after years of unexplained infertility—something else we’ve bonded over. “I love you so much for the offer, but you know I can’t.”
Violet bobs her head, laying her hand on top of mine, lending me silent support with tears in her light brown eyes.
With endometriosis, my chances of getting pregnant without the help of outrageously expensive medical intervention—which Violet and Jared pinched pennies for years to afford—is lower than the general population. And since Steven and I stopped using condoms when I turned eighteen and started trying for a family without a single positive pregnancy test, I’ve all but given up hope that it will happen naturally.
Violet knows it would be too painful watching her belly grow up close. Painful watching her loving husband and the father of her unborn child dote on her as she deserves. It’s the same as it would be if I were to stay at Dolly and Wyatt’s house, now that they have little William and are expecting their second child.
Faye was kind enough to offer to let me stay with her and Harold, who she fell in love with and married not too long after Dolly and Wyatt tied the knot—no surprise there, given how deeply they’d both blush whenever they spoke to eachother—but they’re living in a tiny RV on their property while their house is being renovated.
Steven had never been a violent person before today, but I don’t want to chance living with someone, putting them in danger in case there’s any blowback from calling the cops on him, not when he’s shown me I never really knew him at all.
