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I sigh, wiping a hand over my face. “This was only ever meant to be a teaching exercise for you, Layla. That was all it was ever going to be. And you’ve passed; I’d say with flying colours.”
She stares at me for a few seconds, breathing hard. “It’s not just Zack,” she says tightly. “You wanted me to be vulnerable with my feelings. So, here you go. It’s not just Zack. I’m falling for all three of you. I love you, Luke.”
“It wouldn’t work out,” I say, my voice breaking. “Zack doesn’t want a relationship. And I can’t be with someone like you, Layla. It wouldn’t be right.”
I know I’ve said the wrong thing before I’ve even finished the sentence. The blood drops out of Layla’s face as she stares at me.
“Someone like me?” She says quietly.
“I didn’t mean it like that. You’re young, Layla, and beautiful. You’ll meet plenty of men vying for your attention.”
To my horror, her green eyes start to sparkle with tears. She turns away, hiding her face from me. “Screw you,” she whispers. “God. I… I never thought you thought of me like that.”
Christ. I’m doing this all wrong. “Layla, that’s not what I meant at all. I just mean—”
“What?” She snaps, wheeling back around. “I’m young and beautiful, so I’m not reliable? Is that what you’re saying? I’ve got a hot body and a pretty face, so why would I be loyal? Of course I’m manipulating you. Of course I just want to sleep with you. Of course I’ll leave. Why should you trust me when I’m so goddamn easy?” She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I heard what Amy said to you.”
I close my eyes. “Oh,” I say faintly. “Sweetheart—”
“Don’t sweetheart me!” She shouts, her voice echoing through the huge suite. “Look, I know you don’t want to hear this. But your ex-wife is a judgemental, callous, cruel bitch. When I was sixteen years old, she treated me like I was the whore of Babylon. And you’re still choosing to believe her over me?! You don’t even have a relationship with her, but you’re taking her side?!”
“Layla, I’m not taking her side—”
“Yes. You. Are.” She shakes her head, her face pained. “I’m not just sex, Luke. For so long, I thought I was. But you’ve made me understand parts of myself I didn’t even know existed. And now you’re breaking up with me because you think I’m too goddamn hot for you?” Her voice chokes off.
I fight to keep my voice level. “I’m so sorry that you overheard what Amy said about you, but I honestly, truly didn’t believe any of it.”
“No? Because this morning, you kissed me and held me and treated me like I meant something. And now you’re acting like I’ll never mean more to anyone than a fling. Because I’m pretty.”
My headache is getting worse. “Layla, this was only meant to be a teaching arrangement—”
Fury lights her face. “Stop saying that! Stop acting like this is all in my head! Zack did it too, and I’m not letting you pull that crap. I know it’s not true.” Slamming her suitcase down on the mattress, she marches across the room, coming to stand right in front of me. Up close, I can see the tear-tracks in her makeup. “Look me in the eye,” she demands, “and tell me that you don’t care about me romantically. Tell me there’s nothing here between us. Tell me it’s all in my head.”
A few seconds pass.
“I can’t,” I whisper, my voice hoarse.
She leans closer. I breathe in her warm scent. “Tell me that you didn’t realise we were crossing a line. Tell me that you didn’t know I was falling for you.”
I lick my lips. “I can’t,” I admit. “I knew.”
Of course I knew. We all did. The whole reason we brought Layla on this little retreat was to woo her. We weren’t plying her with silk sheets and chocolate-covered strawberries out of friendship. It wasn’t a conscious plan — we’re not that cruel — but honestly, what other reason could there be? The stupid fake-boyfriend experiment doesn’t exactly extend to tying her up, or sending her to weddings with toys stuffed inside her. It’s not like we can discuss that stuff on the podcast. We don’t have the right to act surprised that poor Layla started developing real feelings. It’s what we wanted.
We tried to make her fall for us. Because all three of us want her.
Her shoulders sag. “Yes. You knew. You all knew.” She stomps back to the bed, slamming her suitcase shut and yanking the zip closed. My heart hurts. I hate this. I hate how much pain I’m causing her, but I don’t know what else to do. “You’ve played me. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to trust you.”
Red-faced, she grabs the suitcase handle and pulls it off the bed, dragging it over the thick carpet to the exit. I watch as she steps out into the corridor. Desperation bursts up inside me.
“I can’t do it again,” I blurt out. “I’m sorry. I wish I could, but I can’t.”
She turns back in the doorway, her face like a mask. “Explain.”
“I… I realised at the wedding that I can’t go through it again. I can’t let myself fall in love with someone and watch it slowly fade away. I can’t. It’ll break me.” She doesn’t move. I push on. “I didn’t just lose Amy when we divorced. I lost a whole life. I lost nieces and nephews. I lost grandparents. Godchildren. My house. My career. The future I’d built for myself.” My throat tightens. “Sweetheart, it would be so easy to jump head-first into this with you. God knows I want to. But I need to be logical about this. I can’t be with someone unless I’m really sure the relationship will work out. And the odds of this working out with you specifically… they’re too low. I’m sorry.”
Emotion flickers in her eyes. For a second, I think she understands.
Then her mouth presses into a grim line.
