Now and Forever (11 page)

“I’m not leaving.” Ben crossed his arms across his chest. Layla drew back her hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.

“I’m crazy pissed right now, Ben! You dangled my dream in my face and just jerked the rug out from under me! I can’t be around you right now.”

“Too damn bad, sweetheart. We’re getting married, and you don’t run away when problems hit in a marriage. You work them out.”

Layla’s face crumpled. Ben let go of her wrist, and her arm fell limply at her side.

“That’s the thing, Ben,” she said softly. “Now that I know you don’t respect my career, I don’t think I can marry you.”

He drew back, a sense of unease lodging in his chest. “You don’t mean that.”

“I wish I didn’t,” she said, tears welling in her eyes. “But I do. I waited tables and clerked for assholes and worked twice as hard as a man to land a decent job because of the way I look. People don’t take a former beauty queen and cheerleader seriously. I’m proud of where I’ve gotten myself.”

“I’m proud of you, too,” Ben said, resting his hands on her waist.

“You’re not. Not if you’d dismiss my career over a drink and cigar with my dad.”

“Layla. I didn’t mean to do that. You’re overreacting.”

“What choices do you see for us when we have kids, other than me quitting my practice?”

Ben shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know. This caught me off guard. I thought you’d like the idea of me taking care of our family financially so you wouldn’t have to worry about any of that.”

“I don’t just work for money.” She shifted herself so his hands fell away from her. “Look, I’d really like you to go. I need some time alone.”

Ben sighed and retrieved his dark wool coat from the couch. “Alright. When are we going to talk about this?”

“I don’t know. Not tonight. I need some space.”

A shiver of foreboding ran up Ben’s spine. He’d had no idea his conversation with Layla’s father would create this roadblock between the two of them. He couldn’t help letting his hand wander to her shoulder, where he grazed the soft skin of her neck with his fingertips.

“Tell me you love me,” he said.

She shook her head. “I’m not doing this right now.” Her voice was choked with tears.

“I don’t want to leave things like this,” he said. “Let me stay. We don’t have to talk.”

“I need to be alone.”

He nodded and turned to go, hoping she’d say something more. Her words of love would heal his aching heart right now, even though things were tense. Their fights got heated sometimes, but like him, Layla always wanted to work it out when the dust settled.

But the only thing he heard was the click of the door handle when he closed it behind him.

***

The last of the laundry was folded, the dishwasher was running and now it was time for Cole to settle back in with the file of evidence Layla had given him. It was evidence, all right – proof that someone had gone to elaborate measures to make it look like he’d been funneling money into a secret account at the firm for more than six months. The more he read through the papers in the file, the more pissed off he got.

If he was at work, he’d move on to something else to clear his head and come back to this later. But he was at home, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with nothing to work on but his own case. He’d read everything in the file several times, but what else was there to do? He’d lifted weights and gone for a run this morning, picked up groceries, done some laundry and read through the file front to back. But there had to be something he was missing. Finding out the truth was the only way back to his job. And that was the only way he had any chance of getting Emma to marry him.

The dramatic rise and fall of the song that signified the start of a soap opera on television caught his attention. The character who was starting to recover from her amnesia came on, a slightly puzzled expression on her face as her husband tried to help her remember him.

Cole watched for a few seconds before shaking his head to snap himself out of his daze. What the hell was this? He was watching a soap opera. If his football friends from high school could see him now, they’d laugh ‘til they pissed themselves.

He decided to throw something together for dinner. Emma spent her whole work day cooking, so she’d probably be grateful to come home to find dinner ready.

Scanning ingredients in the fridge, Cole shook his head again. Emma was out working and he was home tending house. It wasn’t something he’d foreseen happening, and it was damned aggravating given that she was tired and sick from the pregnancy. She should be the one at home while he was out working.

He decided to make baked chicken. Setting ingredients out on the counter, he craned his head to see the TV screen. Everyone needed a little entertainment, right? So it was a soap opera. There was no one here to pull his man card for watching it.

***

Emma’s heart sank when she glanced up from the front counter and saw her sister in line at the bakery. Her hair, normally glossy waves that fell past her shoulders, was pulled back in a simple bun. She had very little makeup on, and her eyes were red and swollen. Even her clothes – a plain black suit with black heels – lacked the usual Layla spark.

“Two apple muffins and one blueberry,” one of her employees said from a few feet away. “Emma?”

“What? Oh, sorry.” Emma grabbed the white tissue she always packed the muffins with and arranged them in a box, sliding it down the counter for the cashier to ring up. She filled every order on auto pilot, wondering why Layla was avoiding even looking at her.

“Julie?” Emma called back into the kitchen. “Can you come cover me?”

As soon as her assistant baker took over, Emma stepped out from behind the counter and went to Layla.

“Hey,” Layla said as she approached. “Do you have a few minutes?”

“Of course. Come back to my office.”

Emma led her through the kitchen, grabbing several chocolate chip cookies on the way. Layla followed her into her tiny office, which was just big enough for her desk, a filing cabinet and two chairs.

“Are you okay?” Emma asked, closing the door.

Layla’s face crumpled, and she covered her eyes with her hands. “No. Ben and I had a fight. It’s . . .”

She sobbed quietly, and Emma passed her a cookie. Layla took it and bit in, her expression staying miserable.

“This is really good,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Okay. So I always knew Ben was a bit of a caveman, but I thought it was just his personality, you know? He’s just got a domineering streak. I never thought he was philosophically a caveman, but I overheard him telling Dad that I’m a good attorney and I might want to return to it after our kids are grown.”

Emma’s brows lowered in question. “But . . . you aren’t leaving your job, are you?”

“No. But Ben expects me to be a stay-at-home mom.”

“You?” Emma laughed, covering her hand with her mouth in an effort to hide it. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I get it!” Layla said, meeting her sister’s eyes. “I want kids and I’ll love them, but my career is important to me. Why should I have to choose one or the other just because I’m a woman?”

“You don’t have to choose.” Emma sat on the corner of her desk and looked down at Layla. “You can have one or the other or both. It’s something you and Ben will have to work out. But do not let him make you feel guilty for wanting to keep your job.”

Layla shook her head and took another cookie. “I’m not fighting this out with him. His feelings on this just show that he doesn’t really respect me as an equal. I can’t get past that.”

“Slow down,” Emma said. “Ben loves you, and you love him. He does respect you, Layla. All couples have issues they have to work out.”

“This isn’t like that, Em. You know I’m crazy in love with Ben. If it was something we could compromise on, I’d be the first one to suggest it.” She fished through her purse for a tissue. “How would you feel if you heard Cole telling someone you’d be closing the bakery after the baby was born? And he hadn’t even discussed it with you?”

Emma opened her mouth, but then closed it again. “I . . . would probably feel exactly like you do,” she admitted.

“Yeah,” Layla said bitterly, wiping the tissue beneath her eyes. “That fucker got my hopes up, and now he’s crushed me. I can’t even talk to him right now.”

“You still have your ring on, that means you at least want to try to work something out,” Emma said.

Layla looked down at the sparkling stone on her finger. “I’m not the kind of person who would break things off without talking to him,” she said. “But even if he said he didn’t mind me working, I know how he really feels. And what if we were married and had kids and then he changed his mind again?”

Emma sighed with frustration. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could say something that would help you feel better.”

“You listened to me, and that was what I needed,” Layla said with a weak smile. “How’s Cole doing?”

“Uh . . . okay. He’s having a hard time adjusting to not working.”

“Yeah, that has to be hard. How about you? Are you feeling good?”

“I am. I’m close to the second trimester and I’m feeling much better. It’s a relief to be back here running the bakery my usual hours. I need as much normalcy as I can get right now.”

“Will you come over and have movie night with me? We haven’t done it in such a long time.”

“For sure,” Emma said, getting up. “Anytime. Now let me hug you and stuff baked goods into your purse before I get back to work.”

She held her sister for a few seconds, feeling a stab of resentment toward Ben when she pulled away and saw Layla’s puffy, makeup-free eyes.

“It’s gonna be okay,” she said, rubbing a hand over Layla’s back. It hadn’t been very long since the tables were turned and Layla was telling her that. Whether or not everything would be okay, it felt good to have assurance that it would.

***

It would’ve been Ben’s night to pick up dinner, but Layla remembered as she unlocked the door to her apartment that he wouldn’t be here tonight. They’d texted a few times, but he was honoring her wish for space otherwise.

She would’ve liked his company tonight. Her muscles were sore from an intense morning workout at the gym before work, but she was still exhilarated enough to run laps right now. This afternoon she’d gotten a great settlement for a client. A client who’d cried openly when Layla told her about it. Her first thought after the client left had been to call Ben and share the news with him, but she couldn’t since she was freezing him out. She’d only had Daniel to celebrate with, and he’d just said “That’s awesome!” about a dozen times and been happy she was happy.

Prince didn’t come running, and when she walked into the living room she saw that it was because he was on the couch, curled in Ben’s lap. Her heart pounded with excitement despite how upset she was with him.

Layla sniffed. “Is that. . .?”

“Yen Ching,” Ben said. “My night for dinner, so I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Layla considered letting her anger thaw by having dinner with him. Who was she kidding? After several days apart she also wanted to cuddle over Sportscenter and end the night screaming his name. She walked toward the couch to join him, stopping when she saw a packed duffel bag on the floor by the end table.

She swallowed, unable to meet his gaze. “So it looks like you got your stuff?”

“Yeah. But only because I have to go fill in teaching a class at the police academy. The usual instructor was in a car accident. He’s in the hospital.”

“Oh.” She still couldn’t look at him. He was leaving. What if the academy class was just a way to get his stuff without her crying about it?

“Come here,” he said, holding an arm out. She willed herself not to cry as she sat next to him and he wrapped a large arm around her back and pulled her body against his. “I’m sorry we fought. I’d like us to work things out before I go.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Fifteen days.”

She closed her eyes. Why did he have to smell so impossibly good? His broad chest was hard with muscle, and she craved the feel of his warm, bare skin. Her body missed him as much as the rest of her did. Before their fight, they had sex most days, and she was feeling the absence of it.

“I miss you,” she said softly, forcing herself away from him. Her resolve didn’t stand a chance when she was so close to him. She stood up, reminding herself why she was mad at him.

“Hey,” he objected. “Don’t I get a chance to tell you how much I miss you?”

Layla sighed, turning to look at him. “Does it matter?”

“That’s for you to decide, I guess. Does the way I feel about you matter to you?”

“The way you feel about me is how we ended up in this mess,” she muttered.

Ben shifted and stood up, rubbing his chin the way he always did when he was aggravated. “I’m not gonna apologize for wanting to take care of you. Why do you have to be so goddamn stubborn all the time, woman?”

Layla closed the space between them, her voice rising with emotion. “That! Right there! I’ve always liked your alpha-ness because you’re not intimidated by me like most men are. But I thought in your heart you saw me as an equal.”

“I do! I want to marry you and have kids with you, Layla. You’re smart and gorgeous and you keep me on my toes like no one’s ever been able to before. If anything, I think you’re probably a little too good for me.”

“Damn right I am!” She shoved a hand against his chest but he didn’t move. “I’m too good for any man who thinks I want nothing more from life than to be his housewife!” Ben’s knowing smirk incited her anger even further. “Is this funny to you, asshole?”

She shoved him with both hands this time and he wrapped his hands around her forearms, locking her hands against his chest. “I think you’d be happier than you think as my housewife, baby. You wouldn’t have to leave before sunrise for work and I could make sure you were well-fucked before I left every morning. And again before bed every night. I’ll take such good care of you. And you want it deep down, don’t you? You like being a good girl so I’ll give you what you want.”

“This isn’t about sex, Ben.” Her voice faltered, but she forced her eyes to stay locked on his.