Chapter Fifteen — Layla Comes
Layla rolled into town on a Friday evening, dragging along one suitcase and a whole lot of opinions about Crestview that she'd formed during her ride from the station.
The streets were a lot narrower than she had imagined. The weather? Exactly as dreary as everyone had warned her. The coffee shop on the corner by Zara's building looked like it had potential, but she decided to hold off on any judgments until she actually stepped inside. To her surprise, the building was even nicer than the pictures had led her to believe, and she felt a little smug, like a friend who had outdone herself.
As she walked through the door, she paused.
Standing in the middle of Zara's apartment, she took her time, soaking it all in—the flowers in the blue ceramic jug, the lino cut print hanging on the wall, the sturdy wooden desk, Gerald perched on the windowsill with his ten leaves, and the second coffee mug in the dish rack that had settled in so comfortably it felt like a permanent fixture.
Then her gaze landed on Zara.
She began her usual thorough assessment, one that had always been more spot-on than most people's opinions.
"You look different," she remarked.
"Good different or bad different?" Zara asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice.
"The best different." Layla set her suitcase down and wrapped her arms around Zara in a proper hug—the kind that lasted long enough to say everything that needed to be said without uttering a single word. "You look like someone who's finally stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop."
"Bette mentioned something similar," Zara replied.
"Bette is incredibly insightful." Layla pulled back to really look at her. "I need to meet him."
"Tomorrow," Zara said. "Groundwork at one."
"Tonight," Layla insisted.
"He's working late."
"Text him."
Zara raised an eyebrow at her.
Then she grabbed her phone.
"Layla's here and she wants to meet you tonight. No pressure, but she is Layla, so there's a bit of pressure." — Z