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***
SIXTY-FOUR
***
LUKE
There’s almost no one in the hotel; most of the guests and staff are at the party, so I make my way up to our hotel room quickly. When I open the door, Layla is standing in the middle of the room, packing. Her suitcase is set on the bed, and she’s shovelling in handfuls of clothes and toiletries haphazardly.
She looks up when I step inside. “What?” She snaps.
She sounds angry, but her eyes are puffy. She’s been crying.
My heart twists. All I want to do is step forward and fold her up in my arms, but after my conversation with Amy, I’m scared to. Clearly I’m a total idiot when it comes to relationships. I don’t trust myself anymore.
I clear my throat, keeping my distance. “Zack texted me. He wanted to check if you were okay.”
She snorts. “Yeah, right. He’s made it very clear that he doesn’t care about me.” She shoves another t-shirt in her suitcase. “Did he tell you what he did?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. It was completely out of line.”
“He expects me to still be his friend,” she hisses, wiping her eyes hard. “When he treats me like a blow-up doll.”
“I think he’s having a hard day,” I say carefully. “I’m sure he never meant to hurt you.”
She throws her hands up, exasperated. “A hard day? You’re having a hard day. Your ex-wife is getting married. He’s spent the afternoon drinking, dancing, and screwing me. He’s having a brilliant day.” She picks up a dress, crumpling it into a haphazard ball.
“He’s not,” I say honestly. “At least, not anymore. It’s the anniversary of Emily’s death. Usually he spends the morning at her grave, then comes home and drinks himself to sleep. But we were so busy with the wedding, I think he forgot what day it was. It must have hit him all at once.”
She pauses, emotion flickering over her face. “Oh,” she says, lowering the dress. “Oh.”
I nod. “I know he’s acting like a prick, but maybe cut him some slack? I’m sure he’ll apologise as soon as he’s had the time to process everything. He probably feels awful right now.”
She tightens her jaw, picking the dress back up. “No,” she says firmly, folding it. “I won’t forgive him.”
“But—”
She tucks the dress into the suitcase and reaches for the robe she wore last night. “He’s grieving,” she says firmly. “And I’m sorry about that. Of course, I am. But that doesn’t excuse his behaviour. I told him that I loved him, and he hurt me to make himself feel better. I don’t think that’s a valid coping mechanism, and I’m not letting him get away with disrespecting me completely, just because he’s sad.”
Her words hit me like a brick to the chest. “I… you love Zack?”
Her cheeks redden. “Don’t act like you didn’t know. You’re a relationship coach, for crying out loud. You probably all knew before me.”
“Oh.” My lungs feel too tight. “I see.”
Silence stretches between us. She picks her hairbrush off the dresser and shoves it into her case, then straightens, crossing her arms over her chest. “Go on,” she demands. “Ask me.”
“Ask you what?” I say, my mouth dry.
“You know what.” Her eyes are cold. “Ask me if he’s the only one.”
I look down at my feet. The clock on the mantel ticks away the seconds. “Maybe this is a good thing,” I say eventually. “That we’re ending this.”
Layla flinches. All of the anger seeps out of her face, replaced with shock. “What?”
“If your feelings are getting involved, it’ll only end up hurting you in the long run. Zack certainly didn’t cut things off in a professional or kind way, but—” I nod slowly. “This is for the best.”
“If my feelings are getting involved,” she repeats slowly, enunciating every syllable.
