The ride is made in comfortable silence with Layla sticking her hand out the window and reveling in the cool breeze. I can’t help but constantly glance at her. She’s so fucking beautiful, and despite everything going on, she actually looks almost content right now.
Twenty minutes later, when we arrive at the heliport, her eyes swing over to me. “We’re going in a helicopter?” she squeaks. “Are you freaking serious?”
“It’s the quickest way to get around.” I shrug, loving that she’s obviously excited.
“Oh, shit,” she says when she meets me around the front of the car. I take her hand, leading her to the one we’re taking.
“What?”
“I knew you were going to woo me, but this… You’re pulling out all the stops, aren’t you?”
I have to laugh at that. “Damn right.” I tug on her hand so she’s forced to spin around into my arms. “I’m not taking any chances this time. I’ve wanted you for eight years. When you got pregnant and then married David, I thought I’d lost my shot. I’m not gonna lie, a part of me kept holding on to hope, which makes me sound like a dick because that means I was banking on you eventually getting a divorce, and I shouldn’t have wanted that for you. You deserve to be happy, even if it’s not with me. But still, here we are, and as I said before, I’m not taking this second chance lightly. If we don’t end up together, it’s because you don’t want to be with me. And if that’s the case, it is what it is. No matter what you decide, unless you walk away, I’ll never go another five years without talking to you again.”
She smiles softly. “That makes me happy because I really did miss you.” She wraps her arms around me and places a chaste kiss on my neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t know how you felt.”
“It’s not your fault. I should’ve made it clear. But now I am.”
While I knew she’d be wowed by the helicopter, I wasn’t lying when I said it’s the quickest way to get around. Within fifteen minutes after taking off, we’re landing on Catalina Island and stepping off the helicopter. A taxi is waiting for us, and a few minutes later, he drops us off at the Avalon Resort.
During the entire trip so far, Layla’s been taking picture after picture with her camera hanging around her neck. It reminds me so much of the girl from high school. I’m glad she’s back in my life and that I get to spend so much time with her since she’s working with us.
“Wow,” she breathes when we make our walk out to the beach. “This is amazing. Do you come here a lot?”
“Actually, I’ve never been here,” I admit.
“What?”
“I considered showing you around LA since that’s what I’m familiar with, but the thought of being recognized and fans getting crazy… I just wanted some time with you. So I did some research and found this place. I think it’s a lot like New York. When you’re a tourist, you visit everywhere, but when you live there, you forget to actually enjoy it.”
“I get that,” she agrees.
Threading our fingers together, I guide her over to the private picnic the resort set up for us inside the cabana I booked ahead of time. There’s an assortment of meats and cheeses on a charcuterie board, a pitcher of sangria, and several other plates of food for us to snack on.
I fix us each a plate while she pours us a couple of drinks, and then we take them over to the double lounger, where we can lie down and enjoy the nice weather and view.
Layla’s the first to speak. Between bites, she says, “How are Brax and Gage doing? Like really doing. We’ve kind of kept in touch over the years, but it was mostly commenting and liking each other’s pics.”
“They’re okay.” When she glances at me, raising a single knowing brow, I sigh. “Brax’s okay. I mean, he’s turned into a bit of a slut, but I think he’s just trying to move forward.”
Layla nods. “Kaylee kind of did the same thing right after. She lashed out, got caught up in some bad stuff, and failed out of Boston.”
Damn, I had no idea. Not that I feel too bad for her. She chose to do what she did. But if I’m going to have a shot at being with Layla, I have to be accepting of all the parts of her life, including Kaylee… and David.
“She’s graduating in December from NYU,” she adds.
“That’s good,” I say evenly.
“And Gage?” she prompts.
“He’s…not so good,” I admit truthfully. “My dad has mentioned rehab a few times but hasn’t pushed because he’s not a danger to himself. He’s just always kind of high.”