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Layla looked at her empty plate as the table fell silent.
Blaire leaned back against the wall. The sunshine streaming through the window made her blonde hair glow. “What was it like having Aiden stay with you?”
“Well, he’s come up before, but never overnight. He only stayed the first night because we lost track of time, but then the next day there was the break-in, and well… you know the rest.”
Riley quirked an eyebrow. “So what’s the deal now?”
Charlotte looked at Riley. “What deal?”
“I think she means with him acting weird,” Layla said.
“Yeah, that.”
“I don’t know.”
She hated lying to her friends. She wanted to be closer to them and have something meaningful again, like she once did with Blaire, but if she couldn’t tell them the truth, what kind of foundation was she creating?
“Why do I not believe that?” Blaire reached out and grabbed Charlotte’s hand resting on the table. “I know you, Char. It’s all over your face. What happened when he was there?”
Her eyes burned, and she willed her body to absorb the liquid emotion brimming in her eyes.
“Did he hurt you?” Riley said, rising. “I will kick his tail. Then I’ll let Mama kill him.”
“No!” Charlotte shouted, then looked around at the packed diner. A few people looked at her and she shrank into the seat. “No,” she whispered. “He didn’t hurt me… Not physically.” At least they couldn’t see the faded bruising from his bites on her stomach and breast. The marks on her hips were gone, and the one on her neck she covered well enough with makeup.
“Then what did he do?” Blaire’s hand squeezed hers.
“Nothing. He was there for two weeks, and everything was great for the first week. I mean, except for the stalker stuff. Everything changed the day before I decided to come home.”
“What happened?”
Her elbows thunked on the table, rattling the silverware as her hands cradled her forehead. Her food sat forgotten. “We slept together.”
“You already said that,” Layla said, lifting her water and taking a sip.
“I don’t think she means sleeping in the same bed,” Blaire said with caution. “Do you?”
Riley smacked a hand on the table, leaning forward, whisper-yelling. “You banged my brother?”
“No one says banged anymore,” Blaire said, suppressing a laugh.
“Fine.” Riley rolled her eyes, waving her hand from side to side with each euphemism she uttered. “Bumped uglies, boned, did the horizontal tango, rode the skin bus into tuna town—”
“Stop!” Blaire threw a fry at Riley.
Layla’s eyes were so wide she looked like a cartoon character.
“Don’t put it like that,” Charlotte grumbled, cringing. “Any of that. But yes, we had sex. And it was amazing, and I hate myself for it.”
“But she can’t—”
Riley’s hand clamped over Layla’s mouth. “Nope.”
Charlotte’s eyebrows rose, mouth parting. “What in the world?”
“Nothing, nothing.” Riley waved a hand, dismissing the odd interaction as Layla looked at her with exasperation, brushing her ruffled mocha hair from her face. “But seriously. You had sex?”
“Yes. I just told you,” Charlotte said with a groan. “He had a nightmare, and when he woke up, he… He acted in a way I’d never seen before.”
