“You’re shaking,” Luke says quietly.
“You broke me,” she says with a sigh. I kiss her sweaty temple, wrapping the sheets tighter around her and tugging her into my arms. Luke lies down on her other side, sandwiching her in. She slowly calms down between us, her shivers slowing, then stopping. I keep stroking her hair, catching my breath.
“Is she alright?” Luke asks after a few moments. “She’s gone quiet.”
I check her face and smile. “She’s falling asleep.”
“I guess we wore her out,” he murmurs, reaching across the bedside table to flick off the lamp.
“Mm.” I pull her a little closer to me. “I missed this.”
He’s still for a moment, then nods. “Me, too.”
Zack is still up, moving around the dark room. I hear him fumbling around in the bathroom, then dropping to his knees next to the bed and rummaging through his suitcase. I glance at the digital clock glowing on the bedside table. It’s past midnight. April 5th.
No wonder he can’t sleep.
“Are you going to the bar?” I ask into the darkness. “Need me to go with you?”
He pauses. “Why would I go to the bar? Gotta be fresh to see Robbie get hitched tomorrow.” He pulls something out of his case and heads to the wardrobe. “Forgot to hang my suit.”
“Come to bed,” Layla mumbles into my chest, stirring.
I hear the wardrobe door shut. “But all the good spots are gone, lass.”
I sigh, trying to peel Layla off me. “You can hold her, if you like.”
The mattress dips on my right. “Nah, man.” He rolls so his back is to me. “But I’m cuddlin’ her tomorrow.”
“Of course,” I say quietly.
“‘M not a teddy bear,” Layla protests tiredly, snuggling closer into me. “I get to pick who I hug.”
I thread my fingers through her hair, my eyes wide open in the dark. Six weeks ago, I’d never have imagined that I could be here, with her in my arms.
Again, that old pang of guilt runs through me. Would she have agreed to do this if she’d known I had feelings for her?
I don’t know.
Pushing my worries about Layla to the back of my mind, I close my eyes, letting myself drift off. I’m almost asleep when a phone beeps.
Zack groans, rolling over and slapping around the bedside table. There are some muffled thuds as complimentary chocolates fall onto the carpet, but eventually he manages to grab the offending phone. “S’yours, L,” he mutters.
She hums, not moving from my chest.
He rubs his eyes, squinting at the bright screen. “You’re gonna wanna read it. S’an email. From Anna Bidet, or whatever her name is.”
“What?” Layla bolts upright in bed, lunging for the phone. I wince and sit up as she rubs against my crotch, pulling her against my chest. “What is it?” I ask, brushing her dishevelled hair out of her face so she can see the screen.
“Oh my God,” she breathes, her body humming with excitement as she reads the email. “Anna’s flying me over. The ticket is for next Sunday.”
Next Sunday. My stomach drops. That’s in eight days. Eight days, and she’ll be out of the country.
“How long will you be out there?” Luke asks into his pillow.
“She doesn’t know.” Layla turns to look at me in the dark. “Crap, what if it clashes with the podcast?”
“We ain’t recording long-distance,” Zack grumbles. “There’s no way to get the audio mixed the same. Tried it before when Luke went to visit his family. It sounded like he was at the bottom of a well.”
“The convention is next Saturday,” I say slowly, reaching up to trace a finger across Layla’s ribs. “Maybe we should finish up your segment then.”
Zack goes still. “What?”
I swallow, my throat tight. “We could go out with a bang,” I say, trying to sound enthusiastic. “Do the finale at the live show. We can publish it for listeners later.”
“It would be a good way to wrap up the segment,” Luke agrees tiredly. “People will get to meet Layla, ask her questions.”
“It’s too soon,” Zack argues. “PodFest is like, a week away. We can’t end the whole segment then.”
“We said it would only be six weeks,” I remind him. He tosses me a glare.
I know what he’s feeling. He doesn’t want to let Layla go. He doesn’t want this ‘experiment’ to end. God knows I don’t either, but it’s not like we have a choice. This was only ever meant to be a short-term arrangement. We agreed on that.