Page 211 of Fighting Chance

why the hell were you in my house again

do you keep forgetting that I have a Ring camera?

KIERAN

this text message is not very neighborly of you

I needed to borrow something

BROTHER FROM ANOTHER MOTHER

you walked out with your hand shoved in a box of my cereal

KIERAN

yeah the thing I’m borrowing was in my pocket

the cereal was just there

BROTHER FROM ANOTHER MOTHER

Bella put it in a locked box, the cereal wasn’t just “there”

KIERAN

;) tell her to pick a better code than yourbirthday then

Tiptoeing into a room without waking someone, I’ve come to learn, is an art, a form which I feel I can confidently say I’ve mastered after sneaking into Emmy’s room to make sure she’s all right. My newly acquired skill comes in handy this morning as I slowly slide the tray table onto my side of the bed.

When I’m confident it’s far enough away that if Layla rolls over she won’t knock the tea to the ground, I smile down at her sleeping form.

She’s tired, has been for a few weeks now. She thinks I don’t notice but I do. I know that she probably thinks if she’s honest with me about how she’s feeling I’ll ask her to take a step back with Emmy, or perhaps it has nothing to do with me at all and she’s scared that the medication might not be working anymore.

But I’ve noticed. I always notice everything about her.

I don’t think she’s fully flaring but something isn’t right. She’s more lethargic than normal and I’ve spotted her rubbing her hands and knees from aches when she thinks I’m not looking.

I’ve researched enough about lupus to know that her body is showing the signs of arthritis-like symptoms and that the lethargy is “normal.” If you ask me, nothing is normal about the disease. I couldn’t imagine my own body fighting me, couldn’t imagine feeling bone-tired to do the most mundane of tasks.

Layla is the strongest woman I know, and that’s why she deserves to sleep in.

I place a featherlight kiss on her forehead before leaving and closing the door, a smile on my lips as I imagine her face when she wakes up to the breakfast I made for her, the tea, and the new book I bought that she recently added to her wishlist. Yes of course I know she has an app to track everything, and I most certainly have notifications on so I get updates of what she wants.

I wrote a letter as well, nothing long but not too short either, just explaining that I’m taking Emmy out for a daddy-daughter morning and that she deserves to sleep. Perhaps I also signed it that I love her as well.

It felt surreal writing that.

I love you, Layla Carson. With everything that I am, I love you.

And she’s going to read it and not run from me. She loves me back.

Layla loves me.

Last night still feels like a fever dream. Putting the outstanding, life-altering, mind-shattering sex aside—because yes, it really was that good—to hear her say that she loves me, to hear those words come from the woman I’ve dreamed of for nearly two years, fulfilled every fantasy I’ve ever had.

I love you, Kieran Ashford.

I thought I’d only hear her say that in my fantasies, but I saw the way she looked at me when she said it, she had finally lowered that wall around her heart, had let the vulnerability coursing through her to shine in her eyes, and had laid her heart bare for me.