Layla - Page 84

She nodded understandingly. “Okay, shall we make our way back downstairs?”

I followed gratefully behind, wincing when I went to turn the light off and remembered what was on that wall.

Just as I put my foot on the first step, she spun around and said quickly, “The dildos are for men and women, usually the ones who are submissive, not the tops. They have to get themselves off on it until the top tells them to stop, and it doesn’t matter which hole they stick it in.”

The second she was finished, she turned around and skipped down two stairs.

Not to be outdone, I said loudly, “Right next to the door, where the light switch was in that room, and roughly about six inches away from where you were standing, there’s an outline of a woman made when she was covered in sex juices. You can even make out her nipples and her tits. Next to where the wall-mounted nightstand was that you were so close to, there’s a guy’s ass and thighs also imprinted with sex juices, including his slightly saggy balls.”

With that, I walked around her, made my way down to the bottom, and watched her walk toward me. On the last step, she launched herself at me, and I caught her, spinning her around and laughing.

“Well played, Montgomery,” she snickered as I put her on her feet.

“Backatcha, Mrs. Montgomery.”

Looking around, she shuddered. “Okay, I can’t spend much longer in here without going home and bleaching my skin until the first five layers of skin come off.”

Grabbing her hand, I dropped the tissue I’d used to open doors and turn on lights with on the counter in the kitchen and pulled her out into the backyard that I’d had my brothers also set up for me. More lights were woven through the bushes, and small lanterns were hanging from the tree branches.

“Oh, it’s so pretty.”

I pointed at the area we’d cordoned off with police tape because it’d been the only thing we had to hand at the time. “Me and Bond went through the files to find the one about Mr. Mitchell’s death and marked off where it happened according to the photos. Fortunately, the officers who dealt with it were very precise and even mapped it out so we could use their measurements to cordon it off.”

“That’s where he died?”

“Apparently. I was thinking that because it’s on the opposite side, far away from the door, we could probably put a cement planter or something over it.”

“God, yes. Can you imagine our nieces and nephews lying down there or having a picnic?”

Exactly.

Speaking of picnics, I led her over to where a blanket had been laid out for us, with my gifts next to it.

“Before we go to the party, I wanted to speak to you about what happened back then,” I started, doing my best not to fidget. “I know we should have done this a long time ago—”

“That was my fault,” she sighed. “I was being pig headed, and then I just wanted to bury my head in the sand about it all. I’m sorry.”

I reached out for her hand and gave her a squeeze. “I get it, I just want to do this right. We’ve obviously been able to settle some things, but we need to get it all cleared away so we can move on.”

Layla nodded and looked down at her lap. “When I got that positive result on the pregnancy test, I was scared, but after it sank in, I wanted the baby. I started making all these plans in my head for the three of us, and then you insisted we get married, and I guess I was so focused on the baby that I didn’t let the fear of how our families would react to it all takeover. I don’t think I even thought about it after the first day.”

“I can understand that. I freaked out when you told me about the baby, but then I was so excited that I decided we had to go to Vegas and get married immediately.”

Layla frowned at me. “You didn’t sound or act excited.”

“Baby, think about how your brothers would have reacted—how they did react—when they found out about us being married. Next, add in you being pregnant, too.” Her mouth turned into an ‘O’ as it finally made sense. “It wasn’t me I was worried about, it was you getting upset. They just love you so much that they’d have happily beaten the shit out of me, which would have hurt and upset you. I didn’t want that.”

“But when I told you about it being a false positive, all you said was ‘oh.’”

“I was at the departure gate, picking my shit up to board the plane for Rocko’s bachelor party, when that text came through. I managed to hit the letter ‘o’ to type out a message asking if you were okay, but I got hit from behind by these assholes who’d been drinking since they’d checked in. My phone got dropped, and it must have thought I was sending ‘oh’ and sent it when it hit a surface. That’s the only thing I can think of.”

She chewed on her lower lip and then tugged at it with her teeth. “Why didn’t you even message me on Facebook or something? I get why you didn’t text because I only know my parents’ and grandparents’ landline numbers by heart, but you still could have messaged me.”

“You’re right,” I agreed, regret kicking my ass all over again. “I could have. I just assumed because I don’t check that weird folder with messages from people I’m not friends with that no one else does. I forget some people think outside the box and actually enjoy meeting new people.”

Layla tipped her head back and stared at the stars, then suddenly threw her arms in the air. “Okay, fine, I never check the damn folder. Satisfied? You could have sent me fifty messages, and I’d likely never have even known unless I’d gone looking for them.”

Pulling her into my chest, I buried my nose in the top of her hair. “Actually, yes, I’m very satisfied. I’ve got my wife in my arms and a house that’ll be awesome once it’s been cleaned and had some work done on it. What more could I ask for?”

Tags: Mary B. Moore Romance
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