chairs and slump down in it, turning the laptop around to face me and opening up my email.
“Oh, you know what I’m going to say, huh? So you know I’m going to tell you that I know for a fact you’re in love with Layla and that she is without a doubt, one hundred percent in love with you?”
I grind my teeth and feel my face getting hot from shame and embarrassment.
“You couldn’t possibly know that,” I tell her, staring at the screen of the computer so I don’t have to see the disappointment on her face.
“Oh yes I could. Number one, because you didn’t deny it just now. And number two, she told me,” Gwen admits.
My head jerks up quickly to face her, my email momentarily forgotten.
“She what? When?”
Gwen shrugs her shoulders and takes a seat next to me. “Well, not in so many words. But she did one better. You see, we women sometimes like to show a man how much we love him. Sometimes actions are much better than words. Anyone can say the words, Brady. They can toss them around like they mean something while their actions make you feel small and insignificant. But when they actually show you that they love you? When they open up their heart and soul and show you a side of themselves they’ve never shared with anyone else—that’s love.”
My heart starts pounding rapidly in my chest as I think about what Gwen is saying.
“Her music?” I ask her in a whisper.
Gwen smiles at me and nods.
“Did you know the second night she was here and helped me put Emma to bed, she told me about that guitar? You were in the shower and I asked her about it. She hasn’t played one single note on that thing for anyone since the day her father died. Not one. She said she would just hold it in her arms all these years and wait for inspiration to strike or for it to magically help her live again,” Gwen explains as she leans back in her chair and crosses her arms in front of her. “I asked her what made her want to suddenly play on stage at June’s, and do you know what she said? She said, ‘I just realized that I’ve found something else to make me feel alive, and he’s a lot warmer than an old guitar. I don’t need to hide behind it when I have him in front of it.’”
I’m struggling to breathe as I listen to Gwen ramble. Each word she says is like a knife to my heart, making me realize what I’ve done and what I’ve lost.
“She also told me about the book of songs she wrote that you found,” Gwen continues, not paying attention to the damage her words produce and my mounting anxiety. “She wasn’t really mad at you. She was embarrassed. She knows she’s talented and she’s ashamed that she’s done nothing with the songs but let them gather dust in an old notebook. Did you know she’s never even shown that book to Finn? He knows she writes, but he’s never read one of her songs or heard her play them. She’s never played them for anyone.”
Except me.
I hang my head down in front of me when Gwen finishes, not sure if I want to scream to the world that Layla loves me or sit in a corner and cry like a baby because…Layla loves me. She sat on that bed and showed me just how much by doing something she’d never done for another living soul.
“It’s not too late, you know. You can still get her back,” Gwen says softly, resting her hand on top of one of mine on the table.
I jerk my hand out from under hers and stand up so abruptly that the chair topples over.
“No, I can’t get her back. I can’t get her back because I don’t WANT her back. Can you understand that, Gwen? Can you get that through your head? Stop trying to play fucking match maker here!” I shout.
I want to take the words back as soon as I say them. I shouldn’t be yelling at Gwen. I shouldn’t be taking my frustrations out on her, but I don’t know what else to do. I’m so angry at the fucking world right now for putting Layla in my life just to snatch her away again. A little tease to get me thinking about white picket fences and happily-ever-afters, then a harsh smack