Declan: Fuck…There’s something you need to know. It’s bad timing, but I don’t want you finding out from someone else.
Me: Worse than Kaylee cheating and Tori dying?
A link comes through, and I click on it, waiting for it to open so I can see what the next blow tonight will be.
When it loads, I find a picture of Layla and David with smiling faces, but that’s not what has my attention. Because also in the picture is her hand, with a diamond ring on her left finger. The caption reads: He asked, and I said yes!
And just like that, my entire world is blown apart.
CHAPTER SIX
LAYLA
FIVE YEARS LATER
“Mom, check out this move,” Felix says, shaking his butt to Justin Bieber’s “Baby.” He turns in a circle, mimicking what Justin is doing on the television. Justin drops into some cool dance move I couldn’t replicate to save my life, but somehow, my four-year-old does it perfectly, making it look like he’s part of the concert, only in our living room.
“Good job,” I tell him. “After this song, I need you to stop and clean up before—”
My sentence is cut off by the opening and slamming of the front door. Felix’s eyes go wide, and he runs to turn off the TV, but he’s not fast enough. Before he can cut it off, David steps into the living room with a scowl on his face.
“What did I say about letting our son spend his time dancing?” he barks. “Dancing is for girls. If he’s bored, enroll him in a damn sport.”
I mentally roll my eyes at his sexist remark, not bothering to comment on it. We’ve had this argument too many times lately. With my passion for videography, Felix has grown up watching various music videos, and along the way, he found his love of dance—and for his age, he’s actually really freaking good. When I mentioned him taking dance lessons, David nearly flipped his shit and refused to allow it. Since then, I’ve made it a point not to have Felix dance when David is around. That way, he can’t make Felix feel bad about it.
“Well, aren’t you in a lovely mood,” I say dryly, then glance over at Felix. “Why don’t you go clean your room? I’ll let you know when dinner is ready.”
Felix nods and runs out of the room, thankful for the out.
“I take it you didn’t get the promotion you were hoping for?” I say to David once we’re alone. David lives and breathes his job. If he didn’t get this promotion he’s been working hard for, he’s going to be a pain in the ass to live with. Our marriage is already rocky as it is. I’m not sure we’ll be able to weather an unplanned storm.
I sigh, wondering how we got here. Things between us weren’t always this bad. At least I don’t think they were. It’s hard, now, to remember a time when we actually got along, but I’m sure we did. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have gotten engaged and left for Boston together. But somewhere along the way, between college and my accidental pregnancy and life, things between us shifted—and not for the better. I keep hoping the rift between us can be fixed, but at some point, I’m going to have to face the facts—that rift is split open so wide, there’s no repairing it.
David glares at me. “Actually, I did get the promotion. Thanks for your vote of confidence… but it comes with a stipulation I wasn’t aware of: relocation.”
“Relocation? Like we have to move?” We’ve been living in Boston since we moved here for college. I had hoped to move back to New York after college, but when David graduated, he got the job of his dreams, which meant staying—regardless of what I wanted.
“Yeah,” he says with a bite in his tone. “Actually, this should make you happy. We’re moving back to New York.”
“Really?” I gasp because he’s right. This does make me happy. I should be totally peeved that he’s made the decision without me, but since it means moving back to the place I consider home, I’m not going to bother arguing. Especially since it will mean being closer to my mom.
Last year, we lost my dad, and since then, she’s been having a hard time. I know getting to see Felix more often will help. And since David is practically married to his job, it will mean getting to spend lots of quality time with my mom as well.
“Yeah,” he says, his nostrils flaring. “We’re moving back. But I’m telling you right now, if you think that means you’ll be spending all your time with those loser metalheads, you’re wrong. I don’t want my son around them.”
“They’re not metalheads,” I argue. “And in case you forgot, they don’t even live in New York.” I’ll never understand why David has such an issue with the guys. They’ve never done anything wrong to him. But if they come on the radio or get mentioned, he damn near loses his shit, like them simply being alive and existing personally offends him.