I couldn’t do that, but I could give people happiness in my own way.
Just not myself, apparently.
If my issues could be fixed by injecting something into my body, I’d do it that second, but sadly for me, it wasn’t that simple.
“Layla?” Evie called, getting my attention back onto where she was smiling at me sadly. “You know, not all problems need to get out into the world. Some of them we have to carry around inside ourselves for a while before we’re ready to talk about them because saying the words makes them real. I get it, but just kno—”
“I’m married, and my family found out and beat the ever-loving shit out of him yesterday. I think my dad even bit him.”
The words came out of me in a rush and would have been hard to understand, but I couldn’t make myself say them more slowly. I got what she was saying, but, Jesus Christ, wasn’t the truth already out there?
Evie’s mouth opened and closed as she stared at me, her shock blatant. Then again, who wouldn’t be shocked?
“You’re married?” she whispered, her hand covering her mouth like she was trying to keep it a secret from someone else in the room, even though it was just the two of us.
“Yeah.” My voice was so quiet I doubted she heard it, but her head nod said otherwise.
“Holy shit.” She swallowed loudly. “Your family beat the shit out of him?”
This time I just mouthed the confirmation.
“Holy shit.”
“Basically.” I managed to get this out a bit louder, but the rasp in my voice distorted it.
“Your dad bit him?” I nodded. “As in, Jack? That dad?” she checked.
Yeah, I was still shocked by that, too. Normally Dad was calm and sane-ish, well, saner than my grandpa and most of my brothers.
There were no ‘shits’ this time from her, just pure shock. “I can’t even picture that happening.”
I huffed out a fake laugh. “Well, knowing my family, someone probably caught it on camera, or they’ve managed to find it on one of the security cameras. Maybe someone in the Blink or whatever systems we have’s offices is watching it at this very moment, wondering how much they’d get if they posted it online. Would it be worth losing your job and getting a shit reference? Maybe aye, maybe no.”
I was rambling now, doing everything I could to stop myself from crying again.
“In five minutes, people might start coming in to talk about the video. We can order some sandwiches and munchies and make it an official viewing. Maybe we can even charge, like a pay-per-view type of thing.”
It wasn’t until Evie wrapped me up in a tight hug that I realized I was sobbing out the words. I’d never understood how that was possible, yet here I was, proving it. And, damn, I hated crying. I rarely gave in and did it, so it was irritating me even more that I couldn’t stop.
“Hey, if anyone comes through that door and says anything about it, we get the videos taken down, and we fight back. Your heartache isn’t for anyone to benefit from, be it financially or just for shits and giggles.”
I scrubbed my face with my hands, not giving a crap about my makeup and the mess I was making of it. I’d just opened a new mascara that swore it was waterproof, so I guess now was as good a time as any to see if it was bullshit or not.
“Why do we say shits and giggles? I’ve never laughed when I’ve shat before.” I winced and blushed. “Sorry, that was crude. I blame my brothers for the fact farts, burps, and shit don’t bother me like normal people.”
“Shit happens,” Evie shrugged. “I blame my lack of issues with the subject on my son. God knows I’ve had to deal with enough of his to be numb to it for life. Well, apart from his farts. Those things are toxic. And don’t get me started on Alex.”
“My brothers made me immune to it, as well as Dad and Gramps. If you ever see a male Townsend come out of the bathroom, don’t go into it for two hours—life lesson.”
“Well, this sounds like the type of conversation anyone would want to walk in on,” Jacinda said dryly from the doorway. “But just in case you were interested in knowing, the Klein males are also a sensory risk after they’ve been in the bathroom. You only make that mistake once, trust me.”
Evie snorted as I shuddered, slightly heartbroken at that news. “That’s a lie. The Kleins are akin to the elk of Regé-Jean Page, Chris Hemsworth, and Brian Tee. They don’t go to the bathroom, and if they did, it’d smell like angel’s feathers.”
Both women looked at me like I was nuts, but it was Jacinda who replied, not surprisingly. “I recognize only one of those names, but trust me, their shit most certainly does stink, and they do go to the bathroom like the rest of us mere mortals. Unlike Shemar Moore, who most certainly was created by angels and poops roses and diamonds.”
I made a dismissive noise before I realized we’d moved from my trauma to celebrity bathroom habits. Maybe I was as crazy as the rest of my family?
“Anyway,” Evie drawled, “we were just talking about any videos of Layla that might be circulating today—”