Leif I stare at the house, not understanding. Layla’s apartment was still boarded up and I couldn’t see any light from any of the windows, so I told Elton to take me to her grandparents’ house. He remembered the address from the time he drove them home. But... This can’t be Layla’s grandparents’ house; this is the house I’ve been trying to purchase for months. This is the site of my future development. I’m planning on knocking the surrounding buildings down next week, and this house shortly after, as long as my lawyers do their job and the mediation goes well tomorrow. The door opens and Layla exits the house with thunder on her brow. She’s wearing that fucking rain jacket again, wrapping it around her torso like it’ll save her from the late-winter chill. I want to throw her over my shoulder and take her home, where she belongs. I want to make sure she’s warm and safe and mine. I want to shake her until she explains herself, explains why she left in the middle of my parents’ anniversary party, why she looks like she wants to stab me in the throat. But this house is explanation in itself, isn’t it? Realization dawns, and I understand why Layla ran. She found out that my company was trying to buy this property—she must have found out sometime during the party. Those legal troubles she told me about, the ones she wouldn’t discuss—they were the ones my lawyers have been dealing with for weeks. Once she realized who I was, she ran. She thought... She must think I’m some sort of comic book villain, trying to push her into a corner to get her to drop her fight for this house. A noxious brew of emotions stews inside me. Anger at Layla for leaving without speaking to me. Fury at finding her gone from the apartment. Hope and terror and confusion at the thought of losing the only woman I’ve ever truly loved. And most uncomfortable of all, something that feels a lot like shame when I look at the house in front of me. I was comfortable pushing the condominium development through by any legal means necessary. I was happy to squeeze the couple who lived here until they decided to sell. But that was before I knew they were Layla’s family. It shouldn’t make a difference; I’m offering them a fair deal. The development is good for the community. The city is on my side. I never thought about the couple who live here as anything but an obstacle in my way. I thought it was business... but it’s not. It’s Layla’s family. The last barrier inside me falls down. Business can’t be s eparate from love and family—not in this case. If I’d only talked to Layla about my work, we could have discovered this weeks ago. We could have found a solution. She wouldn’t have run away, she wouldn’t think that I’m... That I’m... Trying to push her grandparents out of their house. Which is exactly what I’ve been doing.
Shame is an ugly, twisted thing inside me that I don’t want to look at too closely. It shouldn’t matter that I know the people who live here. It shouldn’t matter that they’re related to Layla, because it’s a good deal—for everyone. If the deal is truly mutually beneficial, why do I feel like I just got punched in the gut? But even as the thought enters my mind, I know it does matter. I’ve met Layla’s grandparents. They’re kind and loving and gentle, and they care about Emma and Layla with a d epth I can relate to. It’s how I feel about my own daughter. I’m the big bad wolf trying to blow their house down... and that doesn’t feel good. It feels a lot like I am a comic book villain. Layla descends the three st eps from the stoop to the path that leads to the front door, widens her stance, and crosses her arms. She sneers at the car, and even though I’m still sitting in the back seat, I feel exposed. Raw. Ashamed. “Elton...” I clear my throat. “You drove Layla’s grandparents’ home a month ago. Why didn’t you tell me this was where they lived? You know this is the property I’ve been trying to buy.” Elton glances in the rearview, then turns around to frown at me. “You didn’t know?” “That Layla’s grandparents were the elderly couple I’ve been fighting with for months? No! What the fuck!” I rip the door open and st ep out, only to see Layla’s jaw clench, her chin lifting. God, I love this woman. I love her fight and her fire. I love how fiercely she loves her family. And I... I’m losing her. We stand watching each other for a moment, the front yard s eparating us, until I can’t take it anymore. I stride toward her and reach a hand out only to have it batted away. “Don’t touch me,” she hisses. “You lying sack of shit.” “I didn’t know,” I answer. “Bullshit.” “I didn’t know,” I r epeat. I stare into the blue fire of her eyes, then glance at the house behind her. My fingers tunnel into my hair as I watch one of the curtains twitch, my breath a cloud of white in front of my face. “Layla, I didn’t know your grandparents lived here.” “I don’t believe you. How could you not know?” “You think I’ve been pretending all these weeks?” I ask, a strange, stabbing pain in my chest. I reach for Layla again, only to have my hand batted away—again. “I don’t know what you’ve been doing, apart from bullying my grandparents into giving up their home.” The malignant mix of emotion inside me gives way to anger, and I clench my fists. I can’t face the shame I feel—if I do, I’ll break. I can’t look at myself and see how badly I’ve acted, so I cling to the last thing I can: business. “I offered them more than enough money. Well over the value of the home.” It’s true. I gave them a fair offer—but a voice in my head still screams that I’m a villain and I should be ashamed. I shove that voice aside. I’m not ashamed. It’s business. Nothing more; nothing less. Business isn’t personal. Those two spheres don’t mix. “You offered, and they refused,” Layla counters. “But you didn’t take no for an answer. The same way you barged in on my dinner date with someone else and wouldn’t leave. The same way you carted me off to your apartment where you could ke ep an eye on me. You’re so used to steamrolling everyone
around you into getting your way that you don’t realize how far you’ve overst epped, Leif.” My temper builds inside me like a demon, burning away all my good sense. “I didn’t hear you complaining when I set you up in my penthouse, Layla. I didn’t hear you complaining when Emma had a place to study and sle ep that was closer to her college. When I took you out and spoiled you every fucking chance I got. But that doesn’t fit your narrative, does it? You can just ignore how much you enjoyed my steamrolling.” I spit the word, gratified when red swe eps across her cheekbones. “You need to leave, or I’ll call the police.” “The police?” I gape at her. “Layla.” She clenches her jaw. “Go away, Leif.” Her hands bunch into fists, and the pulse in her neck flutters so fast I want to ask her to sit down. My hands itch to reach for her. But the house behind her looms in the dark, and the shame I’ve been trying to smother rears up. Layla has fought for her family her entire life. She gave up her own ambitions, her future, for the sake of the people she loves. She told me about the struggles she went through when her mother left, how she’s been supporting her family for as long as she’s been able to work. I don’t deserve to take care of her. As much as I want to wrap my arms around Layla, I know that someone so pure and good shouldn’t be touched by a man like me—someone who would push an elderly couple out of their home for the sake of his own selfish ambitions. Despicable. I am the lowest of the low, the scum of the earth. I am the big bad wolf. I deserve to be treated like Layla is treating me, because the truth is, if I hadn’t met Layla, I’d be more than happy to bully the old couple that live here for the sake of my business. I’ve built such thick walls between business and personal that I hadn’t thought... I hadn’t realized... But it’s just like the wall between my daughter and my love life, isn’t it? Before Layla, I thought what I did with women needed to be k ept s eparate from my life at home. I thought it didn’t matter how much I sl ept around, as long as it didn’t affect my daughter. But it did affect Isla. The absence of a woman, of a relationship. Isla’s been living without a mother figure her whole life, and I’ve been more than happy to d eprive her. She hasn’t had someone to bake with her and braid her hair. She would have gone without a birthday party—a real, genuine, intimate birthday party that an eight-year-old girl deserves—if I still had those walls up. She hasn’t had someone who will be able to be there to comfort her or, shit, I don’t know. Explain how menstruation works. I’ve k ept everything s eparate because I thought it was the right thing to do—but it’s cost me everything. For the first time since Abby left, I realize what I’ve been missing. Life was better when Layla was there. I should have known I should open up about my business, too. Wouldn’t life be better if I didn’t feel like a horrible, immoral man when I look at the house behind Layla? If my business ambitions weren’t so cleanly excised from my home life, my conscience? Layla showed me how life should be. She showed me that I’ve been living a fragmented existence, that I haven’t been honest about everything that’s been missing.
Then I say the stupidest four words in existence and watch everything between us crumble to ash: “I love you, Layla.” She rears back as if I’ve struck her. “You what? Are you fucking kidding me?” I grind my jaw. “I’m serious, Layla.” “How dare you? How dare you roll up here in your fancy car that you don’t even deign to drive yourself, try to push me into a corner, then manipulate me with your professions of love? What’s next, Leif? Are you going to tell me that you’ll drop the project? That you’ll dissolve your business because you finally realize you’re harming the people who already live here? Please.” I’m losing her. A few hours ago, I realized I couldn’t live without her, and now everything I say and do is wrong. Layla lifts her chin. “I’m done. I can forgive a lot of things, Leif, but I can’t forgive this.” She points at the house behind her. “You think all that matters is money, but you’re wrong. My grandparents have lived here for decades. This is their home. No amount of money will ever be enough to make them move. Ever. I can’t be with a man who will intimidate vulnerable, elderly people just for the sake of a business deal—especially not when he pretends to be such a loving, doting father at home. You’re a liar and a fraud, Leif.” In her eyes, I see only one thing: the end of us. “Layla.” My heart cracks in places I didn’t know it was still whole. She turns around and marches back inside. The door slams before I can think through the pain to find something to say.