Layla - Colleen Hoover Page 0,79

I’ve said it in all the ways I can possibly say it without being rude.” She shoves the shirts in the suitcase, hangers still on them. “What is your ultimate goal, Leeds? To force me to live somewhere I don’t want to live, or were you hoping I’d leave you and go back to Chicago?”

She’s still packing, and I’m not sure I can convince her not to leave. But she can’t leave. Not after last night. Not after that kiss with Willow. I have to convince her to stay, even if it’s just for one last night. I need a chance to see Willow again. Even if it’s just so I can tell her goodbye face to face.

I can’t do that if Layla leaves.

I rush to the closet and dig inside my shoe. I frantically pull out the engagement ring. “I had a plan, Layla,” I say, walking over to her.

She’s staring at the ring in my hand.

“I was going to propose tonight and tell you about the house. I had it all planned out. You weren’t supposed to find out this way.”

Layla has stopped packing. She’s staring at the box, and then she lifts her eyes to mine, but they’re still filled with anger. “I already saw the ring. You realize you left the receipt inside the box, right?”

I don’t know why that matters. I would have taken it out before I proposed anyway. “Why does that matter?”

“You bought the ring while I was in the hospital, Leeds. Six months ago. That means you’ve spent the last six months doubting whether you even want to be with me.” She turns and zips up her suitcase. “If you don’t want to leave, fine. Stay and close on your house. But I don’t like it here, and I don’t want to stay here. I’m taking the car.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

If she leaves, I won’t get to see Willow again.

I run through the bedroom, past Layla. I block the doorway and then kneel in front of her. She stops moving. “This isn’t how I wanted this to happen,” I say. “But I’ve known since the night I met you that I wanted to marry you. I bought this ring six months ago, knowing that once you recovered, we would come back here. I wanted to ask you to be my wife, but I wanted to do it here. Where we met. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Layla. Please don’t go.”

Layla doesn’t move. She’s staring at the ring now, less tense than she was a minute ago. Less angry.

“Please,” I beg.

She hesitates, her expression still full of doubt. She releases the suitcase. “This is really confusing,” she says. “I want to believe you. Why don’t I believe you?”

Because you shouldn’t, I want to say. Instead, I stand up and grab her hand. I look at her intently, and with what I hope looks like honesty. Because what I’m about to say is honest. “I knew I wanted to marry you the first night we met. I had never felt more connected to someone like I did to you.” What I follow that up with is a lie, though. “I want to spend my life with you, Layla. Please. Marry me.”

She believed that. I can see it in her expression. All her anger has turned to relief. “So you haven’t been doubting us?”

Yes. For six months. “No. Not even for one second.”

A tear spills out of her right eye, and then she shakes her head regretfully. “I ruined it. Leeds, I’m so sorry. I got angry and I ruined this whole thing.”

I pull the ring out of the box. I slip it on her trembling finger. She’s full on crying now. “It’s not your fault. I should have planned this better.”

She shakes her head and throws her arms around my neck. “No, it was perfect.” She kisses me and then pulls back to look at the ring. “And yes. Yes, yes, yes, I’ll marry you.”

This was not the proposal I had imagined.

Far from it.

I try to keep a solid expression on my face, but the bigger her smile gets, the smaller I feel.

She kisses me again, and she tastes like cigarettes, and I have to force myself through the kiss.

I’ve done some pretty terrible things in the last year, but this may be the lowest I’ve ever sunk. I just proposed to a girl I’m not even sure I’m in love with anymore.

“I have to call Aspen,”