Page 103

"That’s oddly specific. How did you guess?”

“Because after you and I spoke a month ago, I took some time to think about the conversations we’d had in the past. Manhattan was one of the places you’d mentioned to me years ago.”

She inclined her head with understanding. “That’s right. I didn’t think you remembered that.”

I squinted, trying to make sense of this. Layla told me one month ago that she’d rejected my proposal and left here because she was worried about turning out like her mom when it came to her professional life. She didn’t want to struggle. She’d also made it clear that she hadn’t managed to find whatever it was that would give her that success she was hoping to find.

“I feel like there’s something I’m missing here.”

“What do you mean?”

Shaking my head with confusion, I asked, “Why would you choose to move to one of the most expensive cities in this country to live in if you were concerned about finances?”

Layla didn’t appear nervous about me asking that question. In fact, she quickly rattled off an explanation. “The choice to go to the city was an easy one when I considered the earning potential and opportunity. Nearlyevery job pays more there than it would here, if such a job even existed here.”

“Okay. But the cost of living is far more expensive, too. Wouldn’t you agree?”

She tipped her head to the side, a look of disappointment washing over her expression. “Parts of it are, yes. But my goal was to be able to explore my options, find something that made me feel happy and fulfilled, and discover a level of success that would have made it so that the higher costs didn’t matter.”

While all of that sounded great—ambitious, if nothing else—I was left wondering what her long-term plan was. She’d previously claimed she wanted to find professional success, to know that she could take care of herself without the same struggle her mother suffered. She’d also claimed that once she found that, she’d intended to come back as a woman who was worthy of me.

I couldn’t sit here and think about all the reasons why I hated that she believed she wasn’t worthy of me to begin with—or that she believed I was the kind of man who’d just walk out on her the way her dad had done with her and her mom. But there was one thing I couldn’t refrain from questioning her about.

“You said you hadn’t found the success or career you were hoping for, which is why you never came back, but I’m wondering how you would have done that if you’d managed to find whatever it was that you were searching for. It seems unlikely that you’d just quit after all thathard work simply so you could come back here to me, doesn’t it?”

Layla’s expression had turned melancholy, but before she could respond, our server returned with our lunches, setting them down on the table and only helping to build that tension between us. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“We’re good for now. Thank you.”

After he turned and walked off, Layla let out a deep sigh. “For someone like me who was always so organized, who always had a plan, I hate to admit that I didn’t exactly have that in this case. It was completely out of character, and I thought I could just wing it. Call me young and stupid. I don’t know. I guess I thought when I found success, everything else would fall into place precisely how I wanted it to. Or, at the very least, I would be able to set myself up in such a way that even if I couldn’t find a similar job here, I’d at least have enough that I wouldn’t need to worry so much.”

My response spilled out of me faster than I intended. “It kills me to think you believe I’m the kind of man who’d just walk out on you, Layla. And it hurts worse to know you walked away because you believe I have the capacity to leave my wifeandmy child, abandoning them with nothing. I don’t understand what I did to make you think I could ever do such a thing.”

Layla had been holding her wrap in her hands, but at the agony in my tone and the emotions my words brought to the surface, she set it down, sat back, and dropped her gaze to her lap.

I hated this.

There were parts of me that still felt so much anger over her leaving, and they were in a constant battle with the much bigger parts of me that saw Layla sitting there like that and wanted nothing more than to scoop her into my arms while making promises that everything was going to be okay.

I didn’t want it to be this way between us.

I wanted us to fix it.

But I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to do that if I knew that she was worried I’d walk out on her. Wasn’t it me who should have been concerned about the opposite happening?

I set my own sandwich down. “Layla, I’m sorry.”

Her head snapped up. “For what? You haven’t done anything wrong, Liam. I’m the one who should be apologizing. I should be telling you every day about how sorry I am that I did what I did to you. To us. I was so worried about winding up in a compromising situation like my mom and I did that I wound up becoming just like my dad. You were right when you said I run when I’m scared. That’s exactly what I did. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

Reaching across the table, I said, “Give me your hand.”

Carefully, slightly confused, she placed her hand in mine.

The moment I felt her touch, I squeezed my fingers tight around hers while closing my eyes. She’d left, but shewas here now.

I had to try to remember that.

I had to try to give her some grace for making a foolish decision when she was just barely a month out of high school. I was just as much to blame for what happened to us, especially when I hadn’t taken her worries about her future seriously. Maybe she hadn’t handled things in the best way, but she was here now, and she was making the effort.