Chapter 38

LAYLA

I stared at my phone, at the image of my sister blurred by my tears. How could she do that to me? What kind of person sells family secrets to tabloids?

And I guess the true stuff wasn’t juicy enough. Nope. She had to make up a horrible lie.

She was quite the actress, trying to make herself look like the victim with her fabrications and fake tears. Our mother was probably rolling over in her grave.

Shelly painted a horrible picture of our childhood, focusing on our mother’s sexual activities and the steady stream of boyfriends she paraded through our trailer night after night.

She talked about our mother’s death, and the sacrifices she herself made to make sure I had food to eat and clothes on my back, including working nights as a stripper.

The stripper part was true. But then she dropped the ~bomb~. The one she figured was insurance to make sure Briggs and I never got back together. I was quite familiar with how my sister’s mind worked.

She claimed that while she was taking her clothes off six nights a week to support me, I was selling my body to the men in the trailer park so I could buy drugs. At ~fourteen~!

Briggs was the one person in the world who would know for certain that was a lie. My sister knew I was a virgin.

She used to mock me about it all the time like it was something to be ashamed of. Did she think Briggs couldn’t tell I was a virgin?

Had it been so long since she lost her own virginity, that she forgot what that was like?

When the diner number lit up my phone, I figured I was getting fired. Midge had put up with a lot of crap since I started working for her.

She probably decided the trouble wasn’t worth the extra business.

“How are ya doin’, girlie?”

“I’ve been better.”

“That sister of yers is a real piece of work.”

“Yup.”

“Just for the record, I don’t believe the shit she said about ya.”

“Most of it was true, except for the part about me being a prostitute.”

“Listen, girlie. Yer a great cook, and I want ya back in my kitchen. But I think ya need to lay low for a few days. For yer own safety.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Most of the men in this town are good, but there’s a few bad apples. I just wouldn’t want ya running into any of em’ on the street.”

“Oh my God! It’s not even safe for me to leave my house?”

“This will blow over in a few days when people find somethin’ else to talk about.”

***

I moped in my room for a week. Mrs. Anderson tried to get me to eat. I forced down a few bites each day to get her off my back.

I’d never felt so depressed in my entire life. Every day, the tabloids printed more garbage about me and Briggs.

When would it end? And when it did, what would I be left with? My heart was shattered into a million tiny pieces, with no hope of ever putting it back together.

“I’m not hungry, Mrs. Anderson!” I called out when she knocked on my door.

The door opened slowly. But it wasn’t Mrs. Anderson.

“Kyla! What are you doing here?”

“Sonya dropped me off while she went to do the grocery shopping.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be very good company.”

She glanced around my small bedroom. “If I promise not to touch your pussy or your tits, can I sit on your bed with you?”

“Sure,” I laughed.

She sat next to me, leaning against the headboard. “Is this okay?” she whispered, linking our fingers together.

“Yes.”

“I’m really worried about my dad, Layla.”

“What happened to him?!” I exclaimed, skyrocketing off the bed, ready to slay dragons to save the man I loved if he needed me to.

“Nothing. Relax! He’s just really depressed.”

“Oh.” I sank back into the bed with a sigh of relief.

“I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?”

“That you guys were madly in love with each other.”

“Did your dad tell you that?”

“He didn’t have to. It’s written all over his face. And yours.”

“He’s too old for me. We aren’t right for each other. It’s too complicated with his history with my sister. And you need him more than I do.”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “I do need my dad. But not the heartbroken, lovesick puppy, moping around the house like somebody died.”

“Give him some time. He’ll be fine.”

“I don’t think so, Layla.”

“Why do you keep looking at your phone?”

“Just checking the time.”

“Sonya won’t be done shopping that quickly.”

She grabbed the remote from the nightstand, flicking on the small television mounted to the wall.

“Am I that boring to hang out with?”

“No,” she chuckled. “There’s something I think you’ll wanna see. It’ll be starting in a few minutes.”

“Nancy June Jones? Really?” I stared at the screen, a familiar shoreline behind the famous former talk show host. “Is that—What! Why is Nancy June Jones at your dad’s house?”

“Shh!”

“Good afternoon everyone. Thank you for joining us. I’m in ~Canada!” ~The talk show host laughed, feigning a shiver. “Just kidding. It’s actually very hot here today.

“They’re having a heatwave here in the beautiful Muskoka region of Ontario. Known as cottage country to Ontarians, this amazing collection of lakes and enthralling scenery is located two hours north of Toronto.”

“Why is Nancy June Jones at your house, Kyla?” I repeated.

“Shh!”

“I was invited to spend the day at the lovely lakeside home of the gentleman sitting next to me. He’s been in the tabloids a lot over the past few weeks.

“Today, he would like to tell his side of the story. My guest doesn’t like giving personal interviews, but he felt this was the only way to put an end to the media frenzy and public speculation.

“He’s an ~eight-time Stanley Cup Champion and the owner of a chain of fabulous pubs all across North America. Briggs Westinghouse!”

The camera panned to Briggs, sitting next to Nancy June Jones in the Adirondack chairs down by the dock. My heart swelled, my body aching for him. I wanted to reach into the television and kiss him.

“Hello,” he said quietly, staring directly into the camera.

“Your home is breathtaking, Briggs.”

“Thank you, Nancy June Jones. I really appreciate you coming all this way to help me.”

“It’s my pleasure. I enjoyed my visit. Those babies are absolutely adorable.”

“They’re starting to develop their own personalities and unique facial expressions,” Briggs said, grinning proudly. “I can actually tell them apart now.”

“You couldn’t tell your triplets apart?”

“No,” he admitted with a sheepish grin. “The nurse at the hospital marked their big toes with different colored nail polish. I didn’t know that at first.

Layla pretended that she could tell them apart, but it didn’t take me long to figure out she was yanking my chain. She had no idea who was who without looking at their toes.”

“Bullshit!” I exclaimed.

“Layla was one of the two nannies you hired. A few weeks ago, we learned that you had an affair with your young nanny. Tell me about Layla.”

Briggs smiled sadly. “The first time I saw my sons, they were already a few weeks old. I wanted to wait until the paternity test came back, and all the paperwork was completed to transfer sole custody to me.

“I realize that makes me sound like a bit of an asshole. I was also competing in the Stanley Cup Final at that time, and I was on the road. The first day I went to the hospital, Layla was there.

“When I walked into the nursery, she was in the middle of saying goodbye to my babies. Her voice was so soft and beautiful. And she had this absolutely fascinating mane of chestnut hair. I’d never seen a girl with hair that long before.”

“Why was Layla there?”

“Layla is the biological aunt of my triplets. She is the younger sister of the birth mother.”

“What happened when you brought Layla to your summer home to work as a nanny?”

“I had actually already hired a nanny. And let me tell you, those first couple weeks, I needed two nannies. It was rough.”

“I bet,” Nancy June Jones chuckled.

“I tried to resist my attraction to Layla at first. She’s quite a bit younger than me. And there was the whole business with her being my boys’ aunt.

“But you can’t stop love when it’s real. I fell head over heels for Layla. But I kept her a secret. I knew what would happen when it got out.”

“Why did Layla leave your home, Briggs?”

“She didn’t want to get in the way of my relationship with my daughter. It was Layla’s decision to leave.”

“Tell me about your daughter.”

“I’d rather not. This interview is to clear the air about my relationship with Layla.”

“Fair enough. Let’s move on to the main reason you invited me up here for an exclusive interview. What would you like the world to know, Briggs?”

“First of all, I would like the media to stop harassing Layla. She didn’t do anything wrong. And she’s not the gold-digging opportunist they’re making her out to be.

“When she left me, I offered her a large sum of money so she could live comfortably and go to culinary school. She declined. Does that sound like a woman who was just after my money?”

“No. It certainly does not.”

Briggs tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair, blowing out a slow breath before looking into the camera again. “I don’t like talking about my personal life. I’m a very private man. But I’m going to make an exception today.”

I held my breath, my heart thudding against my ribs while my mind scrambled in fifty different directions. Whatever he was about to say was gonna be huge.

He looked so incredibly stressed. My sister had probably knocked a year off his life and caused the graying at his temples. And then he got involved with me. More gray hair and stress.

The only sound coming from the television was the waves lapping gently against the shore.

“C’mon, Dad,” Kyla muttered. “We aren’t getting any younger. Today would be great.”

“Are you okay, Briggs?” Nancy June Jones asked gently.

“Yes. Sorry. I just needed a moment to collect my thoughts.”

“Take all the time you need.”

“I want to discuss the interview that Layla’s sister gave last week.” He paused, clearing his throat before glaring into the camera.

“I know some details about their childhood, but not enough to say which parts of that interview were true and which were lies. And I don’t really care one way or the other.

“But there was one allegation made that I know is false. I’d like to clear that up today. Layla never sold her body for money and drugs.”

“How do you know that, Briggs?”

“Because the first time Layla and I were together, it was very apparent that she had never been with another man. I was her first.”

~Holy shit!~ Briggs had just announced to the world that I was a virgin when we met. I guess that was better than being a fourteen-year-old hooker.

“Layla sounds like a special girl,” Nancy June Jones said softly.

“She is. Layla Lucas is one of a kind. She’s kind, caring, and selfless. She’s funny and smart. And she’s so beautiful, inside and out.

“I’m so in love with her, that it’s making me physically ill that she’s not here. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I’m a mess.”

I gasped, covering my mouth with my hands, my tears flowing freely down my cheeks. Briggs really loved me. He was actually shouting it from the rooftops.

Well, not literally, but figuratively speaking. Briggs Westinghouse just professed his undying love for me on national television.

“Are you crying?” I whispered when I heard Kyla sniffling.

“No,” she scoffed, turning her head so I couldn’t see her face. “Shut up and watch the rest of the interview.”

“Have you spoken with Layla since she left?”

“No.”

“Is there anything you would like to say to her?”

“Yes. Layla, I love you. I’ll never stop loving you. You’re my soulmate. And I want you by my side, for the rest of our lives. There’s no reason why we can’t be together.

“Age is just a number. The rest will work itself out. Please come home.”