“You think?”
“I’m kind of sure.”
“Kind of?”
“The fact that he insists to know where you’ve been in the past keeps throwing me off.” She takes another sip of her coffee. “Why don’t you clear that up?”
“I don’t owe him anything.”
“You don’t, but if it can clear a misunderstanding, do it. It’s better not to be on his radar at all.”
Problem is, I think I already am. I screwed it up yesterday and I’ve been flagged by Jonathan whether I like it or not.
Besides, what misunderstanding could there be? Jonathan and I always lived in different worlds. Hell, his nineteen-year-old son doesn’t seem to know he has an aunt.
We have that much distance between us, yet he acted as if it never existed.
“So?” Layla urges.
“What?”
“What are you waiting for? Call Ethan.”
“Shouldn’t I give him more time to think about it?”
“More like forget about it. A man like him must receive a hundred company offers per day. Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but you get the idea. Hit it while it’s hot, mate.”
I hide my laughter at the way she talks. Being brought up as the youngest girl after four older brothers turned Layla adorably tomboyish.
“What are you laughing at?”
“You sound like a street thug.”
“Suck my D.”
Layla is the type who always wants to curse, but she refrains out of respect for her religion, so she either uses initials or spells the words out.
“You don’t have a dick, Layla.”
She makes a face, then claps her hands. “Come on, no time to waste. Get your designing mojo.”
“I’m nervous about this one.”
“That’s what you say every time and you knock socks off. Now, off to work.”
My heart warms at her words. Layla believes in me, even when I don’t believe in myself. She’s the best friend and partner I could’ve wished for.
It’s due to those facts that I protect her from my past. All she knows about me is that I’m an orphan — which is far from the truth.
I stand up and hug her. She awkwardly pats my back. Another thing about Lay? She doesn’t like hugs or being touched in general, but she puts up with me.
“Thank you,” I say, pulling away. “You’re my ride or die.”
“That was your hug for the week.” She waves on her way to the door.
“Suck my dick, Lay.”
“You don’t have one.” She throws over her shoulder, laughing.