“No,” Jessica said. “I was with Nathan. You were with Andrew. From what I could tell, you and Nathan hated each other.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SIX weeks ago, Nathan had hoped inviting Layla to stay with him would cure him of his infatuation with her. It had done the opposite. When he first proposed her staying with him for the two months before she had to move, he’d seen himself kicking her out after two weeks, a month tops. He’d figured he’d get sick of the adult version of Layla, like he’d gotten sick of all the other women before her, no matter how beautiful they were.
But that hadn’t happened. In fact, given an inch, Layla had taken a mile. She’d yet to use the guest bathroom, insisting on using his, even going so far as to force him to share it with her, on the few days when he had to get to work early for a conference call with Japan or one of the other would-be global markets. Layla might seem like a pushover to everyone else, but he had serious problems cowing her anywhere outside of his bed. He’d always burned the midnight oil, but these days he went to bed earlier, because Layla had to be up in the morning for her shift. Not only had he’d decided to double Kate’s bonus at her behest, but also Lucynka’s who Layla insisted was still owed something due to the one time she’d caught them having sex. He’d taken to saying thank you, at first to stave off arguments with Layla, but over the course of the summer it had become a habit.
Worse of all, he’d found himself enjoying his time with Layla for reasons outside of sex. He actually liked having her in his space, looked forward to coming home to her ever-smiling face. Before Layla he’d watched CNN and the Military Channel in the evenings, with a few episodes of Top Gear thrown in for fun. But over the course of the past two weeks, he’d started watching summer reruns of a few night time dramas Layla liked and had gotten caught up in the story lines himself.
It had all grown very domestic, which made her leaving that much harder. He got angry just thinking about her moving on with her life, finding another boyfriend, maybe even marrying and having children. Sometimes when they were making love, it got so intense, he’d think to himself, “You’re mine, and I’m never going to let you go.” And he’d feel this so deeply, he’d come before he was ready, with the primal urge to spill his seed inside her, to put his baby inside of her, even though he knew she was on birth control. And even though he also knew she’d be leaving Pittsburgh soon at his behest.
But things between them began to sour the night of the opera fundraiser. It all started when their conversation hit an awkward note just as they were about to leave the gala. He’d thought inviting her to the Sinclair Ball would fix it, and it had for a minute or two. But then she went to the bathroom and emerged over fifteen minutes later with fresh lipstick and a changed demeanor. Her smile had completely disappeared, and her gaze kept skittering all over the place, never quite landing to meet his.
“Is everything all right?” he asked, already worried that it had taken her so long in the bathroom.
She shook her head and said, “No, I just have a migraine. I took something, but it still hurts.”
That night they went to sleep on opposite sides of the bed, with Layla claiming she was in too much pain to fall asleep in his arms as she normally did. And when he woke up she was gone. He found a note left on the refrigerator, explaining she needed to run a bunch of moving-related errands.
Apparently these errands took up most of the day, because she called late Saturday night to say she was exhausted from packing all day and was just going to sleep at her apartment that night.
“You can sleep over here,” he said.
“I don’t get a lot of sleep when I’m over there,” she answered.
“I’m not an animal. I can keep my hands off of you for two nights in a row. Now three, and we might have a problem.”
This had been a joke, and he expected her to laugh, but she just said, “I really don’t feel like driving. I’m just going to stay here.”
“I’ll send a car.”
“Don’t. That’s too expensive.”
Despite having been with him for six weeks, Layla still didn’t seem to grasp how rich he was, and that she didn’t have to worry about how expensive things were, because he could afford it. Buying her anything continued to be a battle. One he didn’t feel like waging with her at that moment.
“Okay, then, I’ll come and get you.”
“No, Nathan. That’s so far out of your way. Seriously, it’s okay. I can sleep here today and tomorrow.”
“Today and tomorrow?” he said. “When did it become today and tomorrow?”
“Well, I figured if I got everything out of the way now, then I’d have more time to spend with you before I go. But that means I really have to concentrate on getting everything done. No distractions.”
He knew she was attempting to tease him with the last line, but he couldn’t laugh, because he was suddenly overcome with an unfamiliar urge to beg. He didn’t want her to take two nights off from their relationship—in fact, the thought of not seeing her until Monday made him heartsick. So as always, when she made him feel things he didn’t want to feel, he got angry.
“Our agreement states that you’ll stay with me,” he said, deliberately making his voice cold and business-like. “That means wherever I am, you’re supposed to be.”
A frosty silence came down the line. And just in case that hadn’t been enough to convince her, he said, “You promised, Layla. I thought you always kept your promises.”
More silence. Then she said, “Fine” and hung up.
He’d tried calling her back, but she didn’t answer. Twenty minutes later, he was just about to grab his keys and go over to her apartment himself, when she came through the front door, already dressed in her pajamas and looking as tired as she had claimed on the phone.
“Layla,” he said, happier than he wanted to be to see her.
But without even acknowledging his presence, she went to the bed, climbed in, and closed her eyes. She didn’t even respond when he got into bed himself and pulled her into his arms. But she didn’t push him away either, so he settled for this. A pissed off Layla, he decided, was better than no Layla at all.
He’d thought they’d talk about what happened in the morning, but when he woke up she was gone again and this time she didn’t come home until after midnight, once again climbing into his bed without a word.