Page 9 of Like Home
“They’ll be inside in a second. Hudson decided to take off his shoes in the car, but is demanding he walks by himself to the front door. So, Todd’s in the middle of some pretty intense negotiations.” She hip-checks me out of the way and starts washing her hands.
“I thought we don’t negotiate with terrorists?” I ask jokingly.
“Yeah well, when you live with one—” she says, cutting herself off with a laugh. “At least I have a good negotiating partner.” She heads to the stove and stirs around the browning pancetta, and I take a moment to look her over.
Layla used to struggle with depression pretty heavily in her teens, and it got scary there for a bit. After a lot of therapy and a little medication, she vastly improved, but the worry is hard to shake. She has her thick, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, so I can see her side profile. Other than looking a little tired from chasing her three-year-old around all day, she looks good. Happy. I breathe out a small sigh of relief that I don’t see any sign of the empty, vacant look she used to wear.
We’re a little less than two years apart, so it’s not like I’m all that much older than her, but I still feel the urge to protect her and make sure she’s okay. It wouldn’t matter if I was only a minute older; I have the big brother role woven into my DNA. “You can stop assessing me now, Dr. Ryan,” she says with a scoff that takes me back to middle school.
We used to race to be the first one in our shared bathroom in the morning. The loser would be forced to sit and wait in bladder-bursting agony. She would always beat me to the bathroom, and gave me that same scoff when I told her that I wasliterallygoing to die from a bladder explosion.
“You have something on your face,” I lie, coming up beside her so I can toss the pasta noodles into the boiling pot. Her hands immediately come up to feel her face and I snort a laugh.
“God, you’re annoying,” she says, walking to the fridge to pull out ingredients for the salad dressing. This is a meal we’re very accustomed to making together. Our dad is half Italian, so carbonara and salad was a weekly meal growing up. We both learned our love of cooking from him.
We bicker good-naturedly over who exactly is the most annoying now versus when we were kids. Eventually, Todd and Hudson burst through the door. “Mama, I got my shoes on all by myself,” Hudson declares proudly before plopping unceremoniously on the floor and yanking said shoes off. Todd looks at us and gives a little shake of his head, eyes wide and white like the victim of a war zone, contrasting with the deep black hue of his skin. I hide my smile by turning back to the stove, where dinner is almost done cooking.
After dinner we watch from the couch as Hudson runs laps around the living room, using Todd’s broad back as a springboard. Over the cacophony of a three-year-old hyped up on carbs, Layla turns to me and asks, “So, how are you settling in? How’s work?”
“Work is good. It’s a little weird to know that I’ll be in one place indefinitely, but nice too. I also ran into Luke. Remember him?” When she nods, I go on, “Anyway, he and I got to talking and we’re going to grab dinner this week and catch up.”
“Aw, look at you making real friends for once,” Lay teases, punching my shoulder.
“I know, I’m excited for it,” I say truthfully.
“I’m glad you’re finally staying in one place,” she says, watching her son’s impromptu dance routine. “I worry about you. I know you wanted to sow your wild oats or whatever, but you’ve always liked structure and routine. That’s why it surprised me so much that you stayed on the move for so long.”
“It’smyjob to do the worrying,” I say, trying to divert the conversation. She gives me an epic eye roll and continues to stare me down. I reluctantly say, “I know. After Lydia, I felt restless. I needed to do some soul-searching or something.”
Layla mock gasps, “Youhavea soul?” Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Sorry, go on. Soul searching, et cetera.”
“Right. So, you know how the plan was always to get married and find a place to settle down? Well obviously, that didn’t work. So, when I was left without the ten-year plan we had, I just needed to… I don’t know… ” I struggle to find the words to describe how empty and betrayed I felt. How directionless.
“Find yourself?” Layla supplies.
“I guess,” I say with a shrug. “I needed to figure out who I was as an individual and not just as part of a couple. I had joined my life so completely with hers that I needed to take time to figure out whatIwanted. I mean, we were together for years and had planned to have a future together. Everything became ‘we’ and her wants became my own,” I finish with a shrug. While I know that wasn’t a bad thing, I can recognize that I had completely eclipsed my needs with hers to make sure she was happy. It was a hard lesson to learn that even if I put myself dead last, it didn’t mean the relationship would be sealed with vows and a white picket fence.
“And whatdoyou want?” she asks. I almost laugh at the serious turn of our conversation while poor Todd is now being forced to spin Hudson around and around, the little terror cackling wildly. Layla is unbothered, so I take a second to seriously consider her question.
“Well, I was sick of traveling and living out of a suitcase.” I pause to think. “I guess I just want to have a community again. I spent the last few years being selfish and now I want to have people to take into consideration. I want good friends. I eventually want to settle down with someone.”
Layla claps giddily at that. “Ooh, do you want me to set you up with one of my friends? I promise I won’t get mad at you this time.” We both laugh at the shared memory of when I took one of her friends to prom. She was (rightfully) furious, but teenage hormones can’t be reasoned with.
I shake my head. “Not yet. I want to try to meet someone organically first.”
She snorts, “What, like in the produce aisle? Get with the times, old man. Now we rely on the internet to find us dates.” She waggles her phone in my face.
I push her shoulder, “I’m only twenty-eight. I’m notthatold.”
“I think it’s about time we get your last will and testament in order. You’re just about over the hill,” she says, reaching over and scrunching my forehead to create wrinkles.
I pin her hands in one of mine to stop the assault when Todd says from across the room, “Is this what we have to look forward to when we eventually give Hudson a sibling?” That stops us and we both laugh while I release her hands.
“Yeah, sorry to tell you,” I say. I forget sometimes that Todd is an only child. He always studies us with equal parts confusion, fear, and amusement when we’re together.
“Maybe just the one, then,” he replies, chuckling.
Layla levels him with a playful glare and says, “Nope. You knew what you signed up for when you married me. We need atleasttwo more.” Todd mock shivers and we all watch Hudson zoom his toy cars around the floor.
