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"Rylee, nice to meet you. Have a good night." With those parting words, I twist on my heel and hustle over to Layla.
"What do you want to listen to in the car, baby?"
And just like that, she's up and stoked to control the music. Me? I'm stuck wondering why the hell three men have approached me today who not only realized I was a mom, but actively made a nice comment about my sweet girl.
Probably just a fluke.
Nobody likes baggage.
* * *
As gently as I can, I run the comb through Layla's wet hair. Between my legs on the couch, she snuggles further into her blue blanket. The one she never sleeps without.
"Do you want braids so your hair is wavy tomorrow, Little Bug?" I catch sight of her droopy eyelids that flicker each time the bristles of the brush tickle her scalp.
"Yes, please." Her voice is soft with sleepiness and comfort.
A newDisneymovie is playing quietly in front of us, lulling her into an early night of sleep. Usually, she would be up for at least another hour, but it's been a long day of moving and beach fun. Sorting the strands into three sets, I weave them into a French Braid flat enough it won't bother her to sleep on it. A soft snore greets my ears by the time I tie the end.
I take a deep lungful of her strawberry shampoo and run my fingers across her forehead. It's moments like these that remind me why I fought so hard to stay strong. It's all for her.
No child should ever watch their mother shatter at the hands of their dad. Layla did, though.
Leaning down, I brush my lips across her soft forehead. "I love you so much, Layla Reese Parker." Choking back the emotions that want to slip free, I shimmy so I can scoop her up.
Moving around the couch, I walk past the kitchen and up the stairs to her bedroom. Nudging her door, I dodge toys and clothes before I make it to her bed. Tomorrow we will organize. For tonight, we have sheets and a beautiful home to shield us from the world.
Unable to help myself, I drop another kiss on her brow and take one more inhale of her signature fruity scent. "Sleep well, baby." Flicking the switch to her nightlight, I leave the door cracked and tiptoe my way down the stairs.
Air-conditioned air sends a chill down my chest when I reach the main level. Tucking my cardigan closer to my body, I scowl at the mess that is our home. Boxes and a wide array of items are strewn about.
"Tomorrow," I murmur into the dim, warm light and sweep a blanket off a chair. Snatching my laptop off the island, I leave one light on and make my way down the hallway to my bedroom.
Settled under the covers, I crack my knuckles, my mind ready to take me away into a world of creation. My tummy twirls, the usual nerves that come with the life of being an author.
I just want to do my characters justice. To hell with what readers think. This is for me. It's my escape before it becomes theirs.
And I'm damn proud.
ChapterFour
JUDE
Ding.
My head rolls along the back of the couch until my gaze lingers on the bright screen of my phone.
Ding.
"You going to answer that?" Raising my arm, I flip Jackson off in response. "What's your deal, man? It's Friday. Shouldn't you be out?"
I groan loud and long. "That's the problem."Damn, I sound like a petulant child.The cushions dip beside me, and silence follows, his way of waiting me out. "I got turned down."
Jack snorts and chokes on his spit. I ignore him. "She was so damn sexy. Wanna know her response to my pickup line?" My head rolls back to face him. "She told me it was nice to meet me. Then walked away."
His scruffy, angular face twitches in an attempt to hold back his laughter. "So, you're pouting?" I huff, closing my eyes. "I'm sure there are plenty of other women or men out there who wouldn't run screaming from you."
Ding.
