Mitch and I surge to our feet at the same time—him to get in Tina’s face, me to get in between them.
“You’re so fucking gone,” Mitch says.
“Give me a time frame,” Tina says, hands up in surrender, backing away from the table. “I’ll leave you be.”
“A month,” I spit out, one hand against Mitch’s chest.
“A month?” She laughs. “You’re such a fool. The day she leaves before this time next month is the day I’ll be collecting.”
“Go,” I tell her, “or I’m gonna let him loose.”
She sashays away, singing the chorus to “Layla,” by Eric Clapton. “Layla, you’ve got me on my knees. Layla, I’m begging, darlin’ please. Layla, darling won’t you ease my worried mind…”
My teeth are grinding when I sit down again.
Mitch’s fingers are flying across the face of his phone. “God, I hate that bitch. This is the only decent place to eat, and she ruins it every fucking time.”
It wasn’t the only decent place to eat in town, it was just Mitch’s favorite. “You can’t let her get under your skin. What are you doing?”
“Texting Craig.” He puts the phone down and pins me with a look, part curiosity part concern. “Is it true? Is she here?”
I drop my elbows on the table, exhale, and rub my face with both hands.
“Ah, fuck,” Mitch says with more compassion than frustration. Mitch always liked Laiyla. Until, of course, she bailed, but even then, his dislike was only in solidarity toward me.
I drop my hands and sit back. “I’m fine,” I lie. “It’s nothing. Tina’s right, she’ll be gone in a matter of days. Hell, she could have blown out of town already.”
The idea that she might already be gone again feels like a hole in my chest.
Mitch just spins his beer bottle, waiting until I’m ready to talk.
I have to finish half my beer before I share the story. I still laugh when I tell him about the dock going out from underneath her, then sober when I describe how she responded to the news of Otto’s house.
“She said it was her father who hired Artega to watch the marina,” I tell Mitch.
“And we all know how much her parents love this place.”
“I guess that explains a lot.” I force my mind back to business. “We gonna go over these or what?”
Mitch shakes his head and collects the forms and papers he has spread across the table. “This is more important.”
“I’ve already told you all there is to tell. That’s all I got.”
Mitch evens up the papers against the table and slides them into a folder, drops it on top of the one I brought, and stuffs them both into a portfolio. “You told me what happened. You didn’t tell me all the important stuff.”
“Like?”
“How you feel about seeing her. What you two talked about. If you’re going to see her again.”
“Don’t be such a girl.”
“Don’t be a such a prick.”
I grin. “She called me a prick too.”
“You’ve always had a way with women.”
A few silent moments pass. We sip our beers and stare at the table, lost in thought.
“What’s she like now?” Mitch finally asks. “All slick and citied up?”
I give a one-shouldered shrug. “Not really. Maybe. I don’t know. She was driving a sweet BMW.”
Mitch nods, waits.
I haven’t been able to stop replaying the afternoon in my head. “She was trying for a getaway with some girlfriends. They’ve already probably taken off in search of a hotel.”
“It doesn’t sound like you believe that.”
“There was just something about how she reacted to the state of the marina and the news about Otto’s house. I’m probably reading too much into it. If she cared about the place, she would have come back sooner, right?”
“Does she still look like she did when she was a kid?”
“In some ways, I guess.” Just remembering the sight of her makes my stomach ache. “Who the fuck am I kidding? She’s gorgeous. Fucking stunning and sexy, and she’s still got that sassy mouth. Just my luck.”
Mitch chuckles.
“I told her if she’s going to sell to call me first.”
Mitch’s brows shoot up. “And?”
“She didn’t think I could afford it.”
That makes Mitch drop his head back and laugh. “Did you tell her?”
“Hell, no. I don’t have anything to prove.”
“You keep telling yourself that, buddy.”
“I don’t,” I insist. “Besides, it’s not going to make any difference to her. But that property would be really nice in our portfolio.”
Mitch nods. “Control over that part of the lake would pump up the value of Whisper Cove homes at least two hundred grand each. Not to mention be good for you personally and the community at large.”
“Exactly.”
“Think she’ll follow through?”
“If there is anything I know for sure about that woman, it’s that she’s going to do what I least expect. I’ll circle back, and if she’s still here, I’ll make sure she knows I’m serious about the property.”
“Are you circling back for the property or the girl?”
I finish my beer. “If we’re not going to work, I’m going to hit the grocery store before I head to my parents’.”
It’s a short walk to the local market. My mind tangles around the confrontation with Tina and my time with Laiyla, but it’s Tina’s surety that Laiyla won’t last a week here that’s sticking and replaying in my head. Right along with “she’ll just dump you again.” What bothers me the most isn’t Tina’s snarky attitude or her disdain for Laiyla, it’s that the truth rings through. Along with the princess and commoner language.
I hate to admit that Tina is right, but damn, she made valid points.
I push through the front doors of the market and greet the checkers, both of whom I went to school with. I head toward the bakery, feeling heavy. Then I stand there and stare at the desserts, but I don’t see the cakes and pies and cookies. I see Laiyla as she was on the dock, before she dunked. Her sleek body with a few new curves. The more mature angles of her beautiful face.
“I don’t even know where anything is in the grocery store anymore.” The voice comes from a distance, but it sings through every cell in my body. Laiyla.
I’m frustrated and thrilled, all at the same time. I grab a strawberry shortcake, then start toward her voice. I peer down an aisle and see all three women wandering the other direction, so I slip into the next aisle over and mirror their path.
“Seriously,” Laiyla says, “I can’t believe they don’t have Amazon Prime delivery here. I feel like I’ve rolled back into the dark ages.”
The other women laugh and call her melodramatic and spoiled. “What do you say we divide and conquer,” one of the other girls says. “I’m still on Tibetan time, and I’m fading fast.”
Tibetan time? I don’t know if that truly means she came from Tibet or if that’s some sort of in joke between them, but they agree, and the aisle goes quiet. The fact that Laiyla’s still here and grocery shopping is a good sign she’s staying around, and my stomach lifts the way it does just as a roller coaster takes a dive.