Quiet Angel (37 page)

Layla did as he wanted, and he kneeled one stair below. He ran his fingers down her spine and watched her body roll. His hard dick pulsed at her entrance, her slick wetness surrounding him, begging him. He looked back at his shorts on the floor, the condom in his wallet in the pocket. He wasn’t about to stop and get it, hating them anyway, especially with Layla. He slipped himself inside.

Layla leaned forward, her hand gripping the banister. “God,” she moaned.

“You like that, Angel?” he grunted, moving her chocolate hair to see her profile.

Layla nodded and pushed her ass against him. “Yes, oh. . . .” Her body started to tremble, meeting him thrust for thrust. Her head flew back as her orgasm ripped through her, her muscles convulsing and pulling his orgasm from him.

“Christ!” he groaned, finishing, holding her ass to steady himself. He lowered his head down on her back to catch his breath. “Your body is incredible.
You
are incredible.” Then in one smooth move, he took her in his arms and carried her down the stairs.

*

They drove off
through the Historic District. “Do you ever wonder where we’d be if you hadn’t left the island?” he asked.

“I try not to,” she said, checking out the passing mansions. “You think we would’ve stayed together?”

“Of course.”

“We were so young. I don’t think the odds were in our favor.”

“Screw the odds!” he said. “By now, we’d have been married at least 10 years.”

“That means I would’ve married you at 18.”

“That sounds about right,” Gage said, slipping his hand in hers.

“I hope I’d still have met Poppy in college.”

“You would’ve. And you would’ve still opened Story Wings with her. And run it in between having kids.” He patted her belly, and she rolled her eyes. “I’d still be ruggedly handsome, and you’d still be sexy as hell.”

“Of course,” she said, twisting her torso slightly.

Gage tilted his head. “You OK?”

“Yeah.”

Gage placed his hand on her hip. “Christ, Angel, if I hurt you. . . .”

“I’m fine,” she said.

He pulled in front of Hope Cottage. “We’re breaking ground on the new building next month. Sarah wants us there.” He pointed to a sign. Gage watched her eyes as she read, seeing her stop breathing for a moment, her hands flying over her mouth.

“I don’t know what to say,” Layla said.

“I wanted the building to have your name, but I didn’t want you to feel vulnerable. Is it OK?”

Layla rolled down her window to get a better look.
Coming Next Summer—The Angel Wing of Hope Cottage.
She unbuckled her seatbelt and slid into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, a few tears rolling on his skin. “I love it.”

*

They got back
to his mother’s house in the late afternoon. It was time to scoop up the kids and play house back at Emerson’s. Layla fed the kids pizza and got them bathed, while Gage handled a little work at the kitchen table.

“Hurry up, Uncle G!” Jacob yelled from the family room.

Layla put down a bowl of popcorn and hushed him, pointing to Connor asleep on the floor, exhausted after throwing up twice, an apparent by-product of feasting on every kind of sugar imaginable at his grandmother’s house. Gage walked in, and Layla motioned for him to pick up Connor and take him to bed. Gage scooped him up and headed upstairs.

Jacob picked up Pippa and patted her sweetly. “I wish we could get a dog,” the boy said. “But my mom says she doesn’t need something else to take care of.”

“Well, you can visit Pippa anytime,” Layla said.

“Really?” Jacob said. “Could I come stay with you guys in Atlanta one weekend?”

“Sure, buddy,” Gage said, coming back down. “We can go to a baseball game or a football game. What movie did you pick?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Jacob said.

“Aunt Layla?” Ava called out softly, holding her stomach, her face pale.

Layla felt the the girl’s forehead, then they whispered to each other. “Gage, Ava doesn’t feel well. Do you know where Emerson keeps the heating pad?”

“No,” Gage said. “Ava, did Grandma give you a bunch of junk, too?”

“Ava, sweetie, go lay down in your room,” Layla said, kissing her on the forehead. “I’ll be right there.”

Ava headed upstairs, and Layla whispered to Gage, “She got her period.”

“What? She’s a little girl.”

Layla smiled. “She’s 14.”

“I’m calling Emerson to come back home.”

“Relax, she’s just emotional and cramping. It’s only the second one she’s gotten.”

“This wasn’t in Emerson’s notes,” Gage said.

“Just help me find a heating pad and some aspirin.”

*

About halfway through
zombies invading the world, Jacob feel asleep on the couch. Gage threw a blanket over him and let Pippa out for the night. Then he headed upstairs, hearing his wife’s voice in Ava’s bedroom. He stopped outside the door.

“Thanks for hanging out with me,” Ava said. “I didn’t want to be around the boys.”

“Sure thing, sweetie.”

“It’s so unfair. Nothing happens to boys.”

“Yes, it does,” Layla said, pulling the covers over Ava and tucking her in. “They get a whole lot stupider as teenagers.” Gage heard them giggle, and he tried not to laugh.

“Didn’t you meet Uncle G when you were a teenager?”

“Yeah,” Layla said dreamily.

“Can I tell you something?” Ava asked. “I haven’t even told Mom, but I just have to tell somebody. I had my first kiss Friday.”

Gage gnashed his teeth, considering what kind of weapon to use on the boy.

“Wow, tell me all about it.”

“You won’t tell Mom?”

“I won’t tell her, but you might want to. I bet she’d surprise you with her reaction.”

“Maybe,” Ava said. “It was Justin and. . . .”

Gage leaned in closer, listening intently, considering whether to use more than one weapon, or perhaps just turn the matter over to Mateo.

“How do I get him to kiss me with tongue next time?”

Gage nearly choked and walked in the room. “Time for bed, kiddo.” He kissed Ava on top of the head and took Layla’s hand. Layla patted Ava on the leg, shut off the lamp, and turned towards the door with Gage.

“Aunt Layla?” Ava called out, and Layla and Gage turned around. “I’m glad you married Uncle G.”

Layla smiled. “Me, too.”

They fell into
bed when they got back to Atlanta. Playing house was exhausting, but it was a nice glimpse into their future. Despite the sick kids, periods, and teen angst, Gage loved every second of it. And he loved seeing the way Layla handled the kids, how she listened to Ava without judgment, excited for his niece, giving solid advice. It was a good sneak peek at Layla as a mom.

A few hours before the sun, Gage woke up to the sound of loud coughing. He scanned the dark bedroom. The bed was empty, except for Pippa snoring softly without a care in the world. He flicked on a lamp and heard more coughing. It was more of a gagging sound this time – horrible and violent—coming from the bathroom. “Angel?” He hopped out of bed and threw on some shorts, stepping over his briefcase.

“Don’t come in!” Layla said.

But Gage was already inside, finding his wife hunched over the toilet, naked, holding back her hair with one hand and gripping the seat with the other. “Are you OK?” Layla reached for some toilet paper and wiped her mouth. Then she heaved again, a rush of bile hitting the water, a putrid odor filling the bathroom. He made a move towards her, but Layla held up a hand.

“Don’t come too close,” she said. “I don’t want to get you sick.”

He sat down beside her and touched her forehead. “You don’t feel warm. How many times have you thrown up?”

Layla closed her eyes and rested her head on the edge of seat. “I don’t know. I lost count.”

Gage ran his hand down to her belly. “Maybe you’re pregnant? Maybe this is morning sickness?”

Her head shot up. “I’m not pregnant. I’m sure I just have a touch of what Connor had.”

Gage handed her a towel. “Do you think you’re done?”

“For now,” she said and wiped her mouth.

He helped her to her feet. “Maybe wash your face and hands, then go lay back down. I’ll make you some toast. There’s some ginger ale in the refrigerator. I’ll get you some.”

“I’m sure I’ll be better when. . . .” She quickly dropped to her knees and threw up again.

*

Layla woke up
late morning with Pippa nuzzled at her side. She looked over at the nightstand, set up with a glass of ginger ale, saltine crackers, and a pregnancy test. She almost threw up again.
The man is impossible.
She picked up the test and went in search of her husband, finding him in his office on the phone. She put the test on his desk, forced a smile, and headed back to bed. Gage ended his call and, box in hand, followed her to the bedroom. “Can you take the test and find out?”

“I’m not pregnant,” she said and slipped under the covers. “Plus, you have to miss your period for those things to work and. . . .”

“No, you don’t. I talked to the pharmacist.” He pointed to the box. “This one works six days before a missed period.”

Layla threw a pillow over her head. “Of course.”

“You could be pregnant,” Gage said. “We haven’t always been careful.”

“I’m sick,” she said, throwing the pillow at him, “and you’re not helping me feel better with all this.”

Gage stroked her cheek and felt her forehead. “Maybe you should see a doctor?”

“If I don’t feel better soon, I will. I just want to sleep.”

“Can you take the test first? I need to know.”

“I just peed before getting back to bed, so no.” She yawned and turned on her side. “Good night.”

Gage tucked her in and sat on the edge of the bed. He heard her breathing slow and knew she was already asleep. He thought about the baby—hopefully—in her belly and reached for the wings around his neck, knowing one day he’d pass them down. He couldn’t wait to be a father, to teach their child to fly, like his dad taught him. He missed his dad. The man always had sound fatherly advice, whether solicited or not. He wished his dad was still around to see his child.