Page 9 of Torment
“Are you sure about that? Pretty sure she hates me.” Her fingers twist together and she looks down at her shoes, then back up at me with a shy smile.
“She doesn't, I promise. Come on, let’s get inside.” I nod toward the porch and we both walk up. Opening the front door like I live here, we walk into the entryway, quickly bombarded by Bane and Talia–Parker’s dogs. Layla freezes, and I drop my bag on the floor and squat down to greet my four-legged best friends. They lick my face and Parker comes into view.
“Hier,” she commands firmly in Dutch. Both dogs return to her side. She scratches their heads, then her gaze lands on Layla and I.
“Hey, come on in. I made french toast casserole.” She smiles and her eyes land on the coffee tray in Layla’s hands. “Oh you’re the best,” she says gratefully and steps forward, offering to take the tray. Layla shoots a glance at me, I smile and give her a wink.
“And I brought the rest of breakfast,” I announce, pulling the bottle of champagne from my bag. Parker's eyes narrow on me.
“Day drinking before work? What’s wrong?” I can tell she’s about to interrogate me and I glare back at her.
“It pairs well with your strawberry french toast casserole.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her before I push my way deeper into the house. She rolls her eyes as I pass by her, the two of them following me into the dining room. I make quick work ofremoving the gold foiling from the neck of the bottle, twisting the wire and popping the cork as Parker comes in with a glass for me and a glass pitcher of orange juice. She places the coffees on the table. I pour myself a drink and flop down into a chair.
“I’m going to use the bathroom really quickly. I’ll be right back,” Layla says softly.
Parker watches her disappear down the hallway, then quickly drops into the seat next to me and I groan to myself. I love her, but I hate how perceptive she is sometimes.
“Now tell me. What’s wrong?” she asks. Her soft amber gaze searches my face.
“Your husband's friend. That’s what’s wrong,” I say, my tone clipped. Chugging my mimosa in one go, I start to make another and she softly chuckles.
“Karson is not that bad, Ash. Yes, he’s a royal pain in the ass, but I really think if you just gave him a chance…” She trails off and shrugs. “He might surprise you.” My lip curls in disgust at the fact that he’s clearly sunken his claws into her somehow, and I groan.
“Something tells me you’re wrong, my love,” I tell her and down my second drink.Damn him.I look back at her and smile.
She has no idea who he truly is or about mine and Karson’s history, and I’d like to keep it that way. Now I can see that I’m going to have to deal with this on my own. Due to the fact that he’s her husband's best friend, they’ve become friends. I can't bring myself to even vent to her about how much I can't stand him. I don't want to make her feel like she's stuck in the middle of something that has nothing to do with her.
Layla comes back and sits down, then the three of us dig into our brunch. We spend the morning into the early afternoon eating, laughing, and having the best time. The anger I felt earlier dissipates. I feel lighter, more relaxed. I watch my twofriends laugh and get to know each other better. Layla starts to be visibly more comfortable and it makes me so happy.
My phone buzzing on the table grabs my attention. I spot the name on the screen and I envision smashing my phone into tiny pieces.
Good mood gone.
Terrorist
You’re not going into work tonight.
Who the fuck does he think he is?
Me
Excuse the fuck out of me? Yes I am.
Terrorist
This is not up for debate, Ashlynn. You’re not going into work.
Me
How about, go fuck yourself.
Terrorist
I’m not in the mood but thanks. I mean it, call out.
I lock my screen and flip my phone over, then stand from the table. Walking back to the front door, I pick up my bag, then go back into the dining room to get my coffee off the table.
“Oh don't tell me you're leaving already?” Parker asks.
