CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Nico
We lie there for what seems like an hour, wrapped up together on the couch, not wanting to let each other go. We sleep a little, tangled and uncomfortable, but neither of us wants to get up or admit that the shadows falling across the wall are growing longer and longer. Because then it will be time to say goodbye. And I’m still not sure I’m going to be able to do it.
My watch alarm beeps at six-thirty, telling me it’s time to go back to my apartment and get ready for my last shift at AJ’s. I’d take any excuse to call in sick, but I can’t lie. Between the Jeep and the three-month’s rent I just paid for Gabe and Maggie, I pretty much wiped out my savings. The extra few hundred dollars will help pay my way across the country. Away from my girl.
Layla sits up, her mussed hair a waterfall over her shoulders. She wipes her fingers under her eyes, and I take in the simple form of her naked body: her small, perfect breasts, the curves of her hips and waist, the graceful lines of her legs––before she grabs her dress and puts it on.
“I guess...” she trails off, suddenly intent on finding the rest of her clothes.
“Yeah.” I sit up and grab my jeans and shirt off the floor. We’re both silent, overly focused on adjusting and readjusting fabric. Anything to delay the inevitable.
Eventually, there’s nothing left to do. I clap on my cap, and Layla buckles her sandals.
“I guess I should––”
“I’ll walk you down,” she says, and my heart sinks with relief. No goodbyes yet. I still have a few more minutes.
We ride down to the lobby together in silence, ignoring the bored security guard as Layla signs me out. Then she walks me out to where the Jeep is parked out front, clean and gleaming in the sun.
I unlock the door and toss my hat inside. I want to see her clearly when I have to do this. I turn around, feeling like my chest is about to split open.
“Well, sweetie,” I say. “This is it.”
Layla looks up, her blue eyes matching the color of the sky shining through the buildings behind her. I can admit it––it’s hard to beat New York in the spring. It’s hard to leave the city when it’s like this. When there’s someone like her in it.
“I just want to say...” I start saying some lame piece-of-shit goodbye, because what else can you say when you have to do something like this?
But Layla stops me by jumping forward and wrapping her arms around my neck. It takes me a second to register that like a faucet, she started sobbing––not just crying the little streams of tears that have been threatening all day, but big, body-shaking sobs. She lets out all the emotion I know she’s been trying to keep back all day. Maybe for the last three weeks, if she’s anything like me.
I hold her close, trying to absorb the pain I feel emanating from her in waves, a pain that echoes through my bones. It’s weird, but I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a girl cry like this before. Little kids, sure––Allie cries like crazy when she’s mad. But Maggie and Selena learned quick that tears won’t get you much. Soltero kids don’t cry, because otherwise, they get their ears swatted.
But Layla didn’t grow up like that, and in its own way, it’s a beautiful thing to see. She lets me gather her into my shoulder while she falls apart. It’s amazing. I’ve never known anyone so pure, so open to feel what she feels. Layla has no remorse for her feelings––she lets them pass through her, like everyone should do, but that so many, including myself, don’t. It’s contagious, and before I know it, there are actually a few tears sneaking out of my eyes while I absorb the sobs that wrack through her small body.
“Shhhh,” I croon, rocking us back and forth on the sidewalk. We catch a few curious looks as people walk by, wondering what I’ve done to upset this girl. I shoot them glares and press a kiss into Layla’s head. She can cry as long as she wants. No one has ever cried for me like this before, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to tell her it’s wrong. She deserves better than me––and one day, she’ll find it. But for now, I can be here for her, even though I’m the asshole breaking her heart.
Eventually, her sobs subside. Layla pushes away from my chest, hiccupping a little and pushing stray tears from under her eyes. Her makeup disappeared a long time ago, and her big blue eyes are still watery, but she’s still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. No. The most beautiful woman.
Come on. Say it, you pussy. Tell her you love her. At least give her that.
Layla takes a few long, deep breaths.
“I guess,” she says. “I guess it’s time.”
I nod, still holding her hand. I don’t want to let go, but I have to. I have to go to work, and she’s got a plane to catch.
“I...” I shift from foot to foot, kicking a tiny rock onto the street. Then I look up. “I’ll never forget you, Layla. Ever. You should know...that I...I lo––”
“I know,” she interrupts me before the words can leave my mouth. She gives me a small, sad smile. She doesn’t want to hear it. I try to ignore the way the words sit in my chest like rocks. So it’s like that.
I nod. “Okay.” I open my mouth, then close it, then open it again to say the only thing I can think of. “I guess I’ll go, then.”
I lean over and press one last kiss on her forehead. Layla closes her eyes, and I inhale that coconut-flowered scent I can’t ever get enough of.
“Be good, baby,” I murmur. I sound like a fucking preschool teacher, but I don’t care. I mean it, especially since I can’t say the words I really want to say. I just want the best for her. I want her to have everything good this shitty life has to offer.
She steps away and swipes beneath her eyes again. “Okay,” she says. “You better go.”
Layla steps back a bit and folds her arms around her waist in a hug.
Fighting the urge to fold her back into my arms, I nod. “Okay.”
I get into my car, and with a quick press of my hand to the window, I turn on the ignition and pull away.
It takes me about a half of a block before I’m already regretting it. It takes less than another before I’m banging on the steering wheel and shouting at myself inside my head. You should have asked her to come! You should have told her you love her! You should have asked her to come, asked her to wait, asked her to stay in the city until you can come back.
Fuck it. This isn’t how I should end things. Not with Layla.
I’m three blocks from her dorm and already pulling my cell phone out of my pocket when a loud bang on my window makes me jump. When I look, there’s Layla, standing in the middle of Canal Street traffic, her hand pressed against the glass, more tears streaming down her face while she struggles to catch her breath.
The cars are moving ahead of me, but I don’t care. In less than a minute, I’ve double-parked the car and jumped out into the street, ignoring the honking horns and New Yorkers cursing me from the cabs and trucks trying to get down the thoroughfare. All I see is Layla.
“What is it?” I say as I kiss her lips over and over again.
She hiccups back a sob, returns the kisses, returns them all.
“I just...” she hiccups again. “I needed to say...”
“What baby?” I ask. “Tell me.”
“I love you.”
The words are so quick, I’m almost not sure she said them. But when I pull back to look at her face, I can see them shining through her big, sad eyes. My heart expands and breaks all at once. This is why people say not to fall in love. Because it makes you feel like flying and jumping off a cliff at the same time.
But it’s still love. And I don’t regret a thing.
I press my forehead into hers. “I love you too.” My eyes are closed. God, this hurts. “Layla, I––”
“Get the fuck out of the road!”
The shouts of angry New Yorkers interrupt our moment, and Layla steps away. I fight the urge to pull her back. I already miss her so fucking badly.
“I’ll see you,” she says with a limp wave. “Drive safely.”
I smile, but as the honking behind us picks up, all I can do is nod and get back into the Jeep.
“Be good!” I shout again as I start the engine.
Layla nods, but she’s already jogging back down the street, wiping her eyes and hugging herself around her waist. Instead of jumping out of the car and chasing her down like I should, I just watch in the rearview mirror while she disappears around the corner. And then, like the fuckin’ coward I am, I step on the gas and drive on, ignoring the earthquake going on in my chest.
Because the truth is, love was never going to be enough. We had a good run, but she’s better off. A real future between us was never going to happen. She might be the best thing that ever happened to me, but I was always a bad idea.
~