Page 97 of Fighting Chance

She clicks her tongue. “Not at all. Come out with it, young man.”

Rocking back on my heels, I give her my most charming smile that never seems to fail me. “Is there any chance you’d show me Layla’s book collection?”

She returns the smile, yet while mine is trying to persuade, hers is a knowing one. “And why would you want to see that?”

Shrugging, I feign nonchalance. “Just thought I’d look at someof her favorite books. You wouldn’t happen to know any of them, would you?”

Charlotte gives me a look. “Do I even want to know why?”

Should I explain that her daughter asked me to fuck her but I secretly think I’m falling so deeply in love with her that I’ve agreed to a friends-with-benefits arrangement in the hopes of making her fall for me too, and the best idea I came up with was to read her favorite books to see what she likes?

“Best not to know,” I say with a chuckle.

She opens the front door farther. “All right then, come on in. How’s Emmy?”

“She seems to be settling in well. She and Layla have a special bond.”

“And Bambi I hear too.”

“Oh yes, if those two are in the same room you can’t tear them apart.”

“God bless them,” she says with awe.

Charlotte leads me in. To the left sits a warm and welcoming loungeroom, filled to the brim with family photos on every wall. To the right is a staircase, no doubt leading to the bedrooms.

The house emanates a warmth I can’t help but feel jealous over, for the childhood Layla experienced. Until I remember that it was tarnished with sickness, and then all I feel is guilty. But if given the choice of the childhood I had, with abuse and the endless houses I was bounced back and forth from until landing at the foster home with the she devil…I would choose to be sick, just to experience the love of someone taking care of me.

Perhaps Emmy isn’t the only one who needs therapy.

“You should stop by, come and meet her,” I offer.

She turns to me, her hands cupping her mouth as she tries to hide her brimming smile. “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.”

“Emmy would be a very lucky little girl to experience one of your famous hugs.”

She all but squeals, and I can see how Layla turned out so soft-spoken and kind. She may talk to me like a firecracker, but that’s just for me, everyone else gets the quiet, endlessly kind woman.

I’m more than happy with my firecracker.

“I’d love to meet her,” she gushes as she continues up the stairs and down the hall. “I have to be honest, I’ve been going through Layla’s baby boxes in the attic and pulling out bits and bobs.”

“That’s more than generous. You didn’t have to do that.”

Charlotte turns, placing her small hand on my forearm and squeezing. “Please, it feels odd not to have someone to take care of.”

Her gaze takes on this faraway look and it makes me realize that while she no doubt is happy her little girl doesn’t need to be nursed back to health anymore, she maybe misses having a sense of purpose.

“You know what, Layla and I have some things to talk about—” I stop mid-sentence, stumbling over the fact that I know exactly what we need to go over and her mother certainly should be none the wiser. “Um, scheduling things and all that. Why don’t you come to the house and take care of Emmy? Grayson’s mom Allie is in town and she’s been begging for a night with her as well. You two got on like a house on fire when you met.”

Her eyes glow with joy. “I’d love that more than you could imagine.”

I dip my chin. “It’s settled then. You’d be doing me a favor. It means I can take Layla out…for a business dinner.”

Charlotte pauses before a door in the hallway. “A business dinner.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And thisdinnerdoesn’t have anything to do with you wanting to know her favorite books, does it?”