Ever After Awaits (Layla) novel Chapter 38

Chapter 38: Layla POV

On the way home, I keep touching my lips because they still tingle from that intense kiss with Cade. The smile on my face also feels like a new permatuen

fixture.

And what the hell was I thinking humping his leg like that? But I wasn’t lying when I told him I had no regrets.

Yes, we were playing with fire by standing in that parking lot and getting each other off. But I honestly think the location added to the whole experience.

A few weeks ago, I would have clutched at my pearls if you told me about a couple who was being so daringly intimate, and in public of all places. The horror! The scandal!

But now, having enjoyed that special moment with Cade, I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t suddenly turned into an exhibitionist, but it did knock down one of the many walls of my reluctance to be intimate with someone in any way, shape, or form.

And don’t even get me started on the size of Cade’s dick. Should we ever take the final step of having sex, I’m apprehensive that he’ll be able to fit inside me, or it’ll cause immense discomfort. But I do look forward to trying though.

As I step through the front door, the house greets me with an eerie, unnatural quiet that sends a prickle of unease down my spine. It’s not even that late, yet the usual evening rhythm is absent. Normally, when I get home from a shift at the coffee shop, Moira is still bustling around the kitchen. José, ever diligent, would be making his rounds, checking that all the windows and exterior doors are locked tight before joining us. Then, like clockwork, we’d gather for our nightcap–tea for José, hot cocoa for Moira, and my chamomile tea.

But tonight, the silence is heavy.

The kitchen is empty, the overhead light dimmed to a soft glow. My gaze lands on the counter, where my favorite teacup sits neatly beside the kettie teabag already nestled inside. All it needs is boiling water. The sight is comforting, a small gesture of Moira’s thoughtfulness, but it doesn’t fully ease the strangeness of the silent house. Maybe Moira had a long day, I reason. With Michael and my mom back from their trip, the dynamics in the house have shifted, and I know Moira’s been stretched thin keeping everything in order. She’s probably exhausted.

I decide to leave her be for tonight. I’ll see her in the morning and catch up with her then.

Walking down the hallway to my room, something feels off. Didn’t I close my door this morning, like all the other mornings? Why is it standing somewhat ajar? Did Moira clean in there and forget to close it properly?

Stepping into my room I walk over to the bedside table and place my teacup down. The moonlight slanting through my big windows illuminates the room enough for me not to put on a light yet.

I head to my walk–in closet, pulling open the door and grabbing my favorite sleep shorts–soft, worn cotton that feels like a second skin–and an oversized t- shirt that hangs loose on my frame. My plan is simple: a quick shower in the ensuite to wash off the day’s sweat and the lingering scent of coffee grounds, then crawl into bed with my tea and maybe a few pages of a book.

But as I step back into the room, my eyes catch on something that makes my heart lurch–a figure sitting in the wingback chair tucked into the corner of my reading nook.

My whole body freezes, my heart starts thundering like a herd of wild horses has been set loose inside and a cold sweat has me pulling the collar of my shirt away from my neck.

Before I can scream, my mom switches the reading lamp on which sits on the side table on her left, and I relax somewhat.

“What the hell, Mom?” I ask, exasperated.

“What are you playing at?” she sneers at me.

What the hell is she on about? Does this have to do with the call I received earlier from the lawyers?

She doesn’t give me the chance to respond as she steamrolls ahead, “I gave you one instruction. Sign the fucking papers. But no, you want to be stubborn and have a lawyer read through them first.”

Chapter 38: Layla POV

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“You call it stubbomness; I call it doing my dive diligence regarding & legal matter. This ten’t sont invonential transaction; this affære fint fetus. already screwed me over with my college fund. I won’t let you take this away from me tom

Her face started turning red as I was speaking and if she’s not careful, steam will be conting from her fart soon.

Getting up, she stalks closer to me till she’s a couple of feet in front of me, het fists balled at her side, and breathing like an enried ball through her mode.

“You ungrateful little bitch,” she spits at me. “The last 18 months you have made my life hell with your whining and crying Abrust you missing post dat And about me moving on too quickly. I gave up my whole life when I got pregnant with you because your dad asked me to. I never truly get to liv after college. And now that I’ve decided it’s my time to start enjoying myself, you still want everything to be about you.”

By the time she is finished with her tant, I’m staring at her slack–jawed.

I know they got married right after college but they both told me that it was a mutual decision because they were so in love that they didn’t want to spend one more day apart. A couple of years ago while we were all reminiscing over baby photos of me, my mom was the one that said she had been eager to get pregnant with me, and that I was the best thing that ever happened in her life apart from her meeting my dad.

But here, in this moment while she’s glaring at me, I realize that those pretty words were all lies.

It’s clear from her words that she never really wanted me. Did she ever truly love me? She probably resents me as well – not only for my existence but because she had to share Dad with me. Does she even like me?

All the little red flags that should have made me aware earlier about who she truly is as a person, start making an appearance in my mind’s

The times I was sitting in Dad’s lap as he read me my favorite fairytale – she would find some kind of mundane chore that my dad had to do right at th very moment.

When he was putting me to bed at night, intending to sing me to sleep – someone from his office or a distant relative almost always called right then to discuss something or to catch up.

When we had to go shopping because I needed new clothes for school because I grew taller – conveniently, she would also need a new pair of designer jeans a pair of red–bottomed Louboutin heels, or new Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses. Effectively lowering the budget so I could only choose a couple of things at the

most.

When she used my college funds for her frivolities.

And maybe the biggest red flag was when she started abusing me.

I can only think of one question at that moment when tears threaten to spill from the corners of my eyes, “Did you ever love me?”

She only stares at me, jaw tight. And her non–answer is answer enough for me.

Steeling my spine, needing this conversation to come to an end, I resolutely say, “I’m having my lawyer go over the paperwork. The fact that you don’t want me to do so is troubling to me and makes me think you’re hiding something. Now, please leave my room. I have an early morning tomorrow.”

Before I can turn away from her, intent on heading into the ensuite, she grabs my upper arm, digging her talons into my flesh, making me wince in sudden pain.