Page 79 of Broken Brothers

“No, Chance, say it.”

For the first time since she had shattered my heart and my dreams, she looked forceful in her demands. Fine.

“I promised you I would love you no matter what.”

Layla nodded, a single tear falling down her cheek.

“I’ve only told you part of the story, Chance, but all you need to know is that hearing you say that meant more to my lifethan anything since my adoptive father died,” she said. “Are you going to tell me you didn’t mean it?”

“Of course I meant it,” I said before I could reconsider.

But even upon reconsideration, I knew that what I had felt in the moment was true, or at least I believed it was true. But could I call it love if already I was making out with someone else and on the verge of going over there for more? Could I call it love if I had called her all the things I had after the gala and then refused to see her as anything other than a manipulative, evil woman? Could I call it love for where we stood now?

“Then why can’t we have that going forward?”

The immediate answer was weak. I was going to say “just because.”

The longer answer required some thought, but even then, the longer I sat and thought about it, the more it would seem like I was giving the question more merit than it deserved. I didn’t bother hiding my frustration when I groaned and put my hand on the table.

“It’s not that easy, Layla,” I said.

I thought about mentioning that I was seeing someone else, but one, I didn’t want to drive a knife into her, and two, that just wasn’t true. I was seeing Claire as much as I was seeing a casual hookup from college. It was far from official, far from exclusive, and far from even having happened.

“I can’t just flip a switch and go back to that, not after everything that happened.”

“But would it be?”

Honestly…

It wouldn’t be impossible.

The more I learn about you, Layla, the more I begin to reconsider everything that has happened.

“That’s a question for later,” I said.

I was getting nervous. Layla was pushing around my already flimsy defenses and making them even weaker. I didn’t know what I wanted with Layla, in part because the reasons and rationale I gave myself were often based on emotional responses to situations. I didn’t know if I really hated her guts. I didn’t know if I considered her untrustworthy.

But I also didn’t know if this, right here, was an ugly continuation of her lies in the bedroom. I didn’t see a reason for it to be, as she didn’t have anything else to gain out of it, but liars tended to stay liars. Edwin Hunt proved that better than anyone else.

I had to go. Even though I knew I would see her again later.

“I have to run,” I said. “Business.”

“Business? Or avoiding questions?”

Well, she could bore into people when she wanted to. I had always known she was much more than a pretty face and a fantasy-filled body, but damn could she make things tough.

“Both,” I said, a degree of honesty I was surprised to have given. “I’ve got…”

I paused when I looked to my right. Two tables down, a man sat by himself, reading a book. But there was something about the way that he was positioned that made me more than a little uncomfortable. I shut my mouth.

“I’ll tell you more later, OK?”

I hoped that the soft tone of my voice and the metaphorical olive branch would be received by Layla in the right fashion. She seemed to get it well enough, and I departed with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

This new information… it certainly put Layla Taylor in a new light. I had more sympathy for her, and I hadn’t even brought up my situation with Claire and the role reversal, although that was a move probably made for the best.

I began to strongly suspect that my days and my interactions with Layla had not ended. In fact, they had only just begun.