What the hell was happening? My mouth was hanging open in utter shock as my gaze bounced from Layla tomy own fucking grandmother, sitting comfortable as could be on the sofa next to my downstairs neighbor. “What the fuck?”
“Hey, sweetie. Perfect timing. We thought you were the pizza guy. He should be here any moment if you’re hungry.”
I couldn’t wrap my brain around the words Gram had just said. It all sounded muffled inside my skull, like the teacher in all those Charlie Brown cartoons. “What thefuck?” I repeated. “What’s happening right now? Did I wake up in a nightmare? I’m dead, aren’t I? I died in my sleep and am trapped in my own personal hell. That has to be it.”
Gram waved her hand and rolled her eyes beneath a mask of gunk just like Layla’s. “Nothing nearly that exciting. Don’t be so dramatic.”
“Don’t be—” My mouth gaped open and closed like a fish. “Don’t bedramatic? What the hell are you even doing here, Gram?”
If she could have lifted a haughty brow just then, she totally would have. “I could ask you the same thing.”
Touché, Devil Woman. But then, I had a cover story so she could suck it. “I’mhere because Layla’s package was delivered to me, and I was doing the neighborly thing and returning it.”
“Ooh! Presents,” Layla chirped as she hopped off the couch, skip-walked over to me, and snatched the box out of my hands. “Wait a minute.” Her forehead puckered in a frown, causing the dried goop on her face to crack and flake off a bit between her eyes. “This said it was delivered three weeks ago,” she said, turning accusing eyes to me. “I’ve been waiting for these candles. I thought they were lost in transit and had them issue a refund.”
I kept my expression carefully blank. “Huh. That’s weird.”
“And it’s been opened.” She tore at my shoddy tape job, opening the box with no problem. “Three of the candles are missing.”
“Nu-uh. Only two,” I spoke before catching myself.
“Oh, you dirty little thief!” she said on a laugh, and damn, was it a good laugh. I wasn’t sure when I’d started looking at Layla so differently, I knew it had happened even before our date, and the differences had only grown since then. But now that I had, I didn’t think there was a chance in hell of us going back to how it had been. The draw to her had always been there, only now, the wall between us was starting to crumble, and I was seeing her in a whole new light.
“Well if you don’t want it...” I snatched the box back from her and tucked it under my arm.
She yanked it back and twisted to keep it out of my reach. “I never said that!”
“Then be grateful for what you got and stop your bellyaching.” I shifted my attention to Gram, who was watching on with way too much enjoyment in her eyes. “Now you. Start talking. What are you doing here?”
“I came to surprise you with some brownies. The house is being fumigated, so I needed to be out for a few hours, but I got off the elevator on the wrong floor, and Layla was kind enough to let me in and keep me company.”
“Wait.” I jabbed my finger at the opened plastic container on the coffee table that now contained more crumbs than actually baked goods. “So those were supposed to bemybrownies?”
“I traded her so she’d share her charcuterie board with me. Now we’re painting our nails and watching this interesting show about a man who killed his wife by pushing her off the edge of a cliff. And, spoiler alert: he killed his first wife as well.”
Sweet merciful hell. Pulling in a breath, I closed my eyes and reached up to pinch the bridge of my nose, asking the only question I could form at the moment. “What the fuck is a charcuterie board?”
Before anyone had a chance to answer, there was another knock on the door. “That must be the pizza. Jude, be a dear and get the door, would you?” Gram ordered in the form of a question, having clearly made herself at home in Layla’s apartment.
“I feel like I’m stuck in the seventh circle of hell,” I muttered to myself as I moved to a door that wasn’t even mine and yanked it open. “What?”
The pizza delivery guy couldn’t have been older than twenty, with thin, patchy facial hair and a pimply complexion. At my barked question, his eyes went big. “Uh...I got two large two toppings for Layla? It’ll be $36.50.”
My eyes bugged out. “$36.50 for two pizzas?”
“Not including tip.”
Motherfucker. Of course. Taking my wallet from my back pocket, I pulled out a fifty and practically threw it at the kid as I snatched the pizza boxes from his hands with a mumbled, “Keep the change,” kicking the door closed in his face.
Stomping back into the living room, I dropped the boxes onto the coffee table in front of the couch where the two banes of my existence were currently sitting, watching a what-not-to-do show on committing murder.
Throwing the lid of the top one open, I ripped off a piece and headed for the door, snatching up the box of candles I’d “delivered” to Layla on my way out.
“Where are you going?” Layla called after me, her voice full of laughter.
“Home,” I replied dryly. “This is my fucking nightmare. No way I’m sticking around to see this shit show to the end.”
And with that, I slammed her door behind me.