Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Noah takes Mom’s hands.
“It’s okay,” he whispers. “She deserves to know.”
With a groan, Mom says, “Layla, your father and Graham were involved romantically.”
I gasp. That’s the last thing I expected. “What?”
“Your father was bisexual.” Mom’s voice becomes distant, like she has to put some space between herself and her words. A survival mechanism. “He didn’t just cheat on me with women. He cheated with Graham, too. In fact, Graham was his most serious relationship. Graham thought they were going to get married one day.”
I lean back and close my eyes for a moment. Afterward, I say, “So why did Graham hire me?”
Mom looks down at the table, her hand clasping Noah’s, their wedding rings glinting in the morning sun. Even now, I ache to feel the cool press of metal against my ring finger, a sign that I belong to my step-uncle and always will.
“I asked him to,” Mom says. “You were having trouble finding a job. It’s so competitive these days. You deserve to follow your dream. So, I asked, and he gave you the job, but I didn’t know he would behave so horribly toward you.”
I jump to my feet. I’ve got no right to be mad. Not with all the secrets I’m hiding. I raise my voice, anyway. I’m almost yelling.
“So, I’ve been working for Dad’s boyfriend all this time? No wonder Graham hates me. Every time he looks at me, he probably remembers what he lost. Remembering the life he could’ve had. Jesus, Mom. How could you do that?”
As the words leave my mouth, I want to snatch them back.
“I get it,” I say before she can respond. I drop into the chair. “Sometimes, we do things we shouldn’t, but it doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you anymore.”
She narrows her eyes. “Have you got a split personality now, Layla? That was quite the shift.”
Her voice has a shade of banter, as though she’s ready to forget this quickly.
“You know me. Hot one second, cold the next.”
This is complete nonsense. I might as well say la la la la, for all the meaning it has. I’m not known for being hot then cold, but I can’t let this rage out either, the sense of betrayal that Mom would go behind my back.
The doubt slithers in and poisons my mind. What if I’m not good enough to be there? What if he’s only tolerating me because Mom asked him to?
“He says you’re doing an amazing job.” Mom looks closely at me as though reading my mind. “He rides you hard because he knows you can do well. He’s an ass. He always has been.”
“I don’t understand. How often do you talk?”
“Not often,” Mom says. “Once every couple of weeks since you started. It’s mostly just me telling him to go easier on you.”
“Mostly?”
She swallows, glancing at Noah. “Sometimes, we’ll talk about your father.”
“I get it,” Noah replies. “Things ended terribly, but you still loved him. You don’t have to feel guilty.”
Already, my mind is ticking away. So, Mom and Graham speak, meaning if Graham learns what Miles said in the restaurant, he could tell Mom about it.
That’s another reason to do what we arranged to do and tell the truth.
Miles leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. His body looks even more powerful in that position, hunched over so that his muscles push through his shirt, his strength even more evident. Or maybe it’s his anger pushing through, pissed at me for not keeping my word.
“I’m sorry you had to find out this way,” Mom says. “Thank you, Miles.”
“What for?” he says in a gruff tone.
“For being there when those men confronted Layla. I hate she has to have anything to do with those people.”
“Except the one I work for?”
“Graham has changed his life. He’s been clean for years. That’s not the same for Josh and the others.”
I sigh, nodding, as the anger rises and falls.
We drink our coffee quietly.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Miles
“Go on,” Layla says once Noah and Elena have left for work.
Layla has a day off today, and I don’t have to head into the office until later. My work’s currently slow while they finish my office. It’s a blessing and a curse because it means I get to see my woman as often as I want, and a curse for the same reason—more time for betrayal.
She turns to me, staring across the hallway, her wild hair cascading to her shoulders. She’s wearing a baggy PJ top that shows her bra through the material, stirring hunger in me, but her lips are turned downward, pain touching her features.
“Go on?” I ask.
“You can yell at me now.” She pushes past me into the living room. “We were supposed to tell them. You were—are—ready, but I chickened out. I ruined it. I turned you into a liar.”