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For a kid wearing hundred-dollar shoes that I’d bought, he sounded entirely too gleeful at this possibility. Still, this was the most interest he’d shown in meever. He was holding eye contact. He was offering good advice, even if it was loaded with joyful speculation about what Jack would do to me. I decided to keep going.
“Okay, but don’t I end up with raw hamburger for a face no matter what? Why shouldn’t I just put it off as long as possible?”
“Because then it’s going to look even worse when you get caught. And likeyoutoldme, you always get caught eventually.” Carl looked triumphant about turning my own argument back on me. I got a flash of him fifteen years from now. A grown man in a suit and bad ass shoes, standing in front of a courtroom. That vindictive gleam in his eyes almost polished away, but there if you looked close enough.
It was so clear, I felt disoriented when the image faded.
“What?” Carl paused, a French fry halfway to his mouth. His mouth turned hard. “What are you looking at me like that for?”
I shook my head to clear it. “Kid, have you ever thought about going into law?”
“Like a cop?”
I shook my head. “No, like being a lawyer.”
His answering snort was so loud that our side of the food court turned to look at him. “No,” he said, all confidence. The same way I told Jack so confidently that nah, I wasn’t going into some namby pamby shit likemarketing.
How had Jack convinced me to give it a shot?
“I think you’d be good at it.”
Another snort.
“I think you’d make a shit ton of money at it.”
Suddenly, Carl was interested.
* * *
Layla was still at the apartment when I got back. She’d made noise about going home to spend roommate time with Liv since we were going to New York this week, but I was glad she hadn’t followed through. More and more, I wanted her wherever I was. I’d never been the kind of guy that wanted to be together all the time, but that was changing. Carl was the one thing I wouldn’t cancel on to spend more time with her.
“I swear I was planning to leave,” she said when I walked in. She was curled up on the couch, a blanket pulled up to her shoulders because I kept the place too cold for her liking.
“I’m glad you didn’t.” I leaned over to kiss her. As I pulled away, I noticed how pale she was. “Are you feeling okay?”
Layla made a face and pushed her hand out of the blanket. She wiggled it then pulled it back in. “Fine. I don’t know. Weird.”
I sat down on the edge of the couch, eyebrows raised. “If you had to pick one…?”
Layla thought about it. “I don’t know. Right after you left, I thought that I was getting sick, and I was so mad about it because we have our trip this weekend. But then I had some toast, and I just felt tired.”
I moved my hand to her forehead. “You don’t feel hot.”
“I don’t,” she agreed. “I feelmeh.”
I got the thermometer just in case, but I was right. Her temperature was normal.
“I should leave,” Layla sighed when the thermometer flashed green. “I told Liv I was coming home.”
“Or you could stay,” I countered. “And I’ll tell Liv you’re sick.”
“She’ll think it’s about the HBO.” Layla nodded toward the screen where she was flipping through one of the many streaming services Shara had signed us up for. I’d never bothered to cancel them after I inherited them in the divorce.
“I don’t care what she thinks.” I stood up and walked back into the kitchen to put the thermometer away. “I like you here.”
“Enough to keep the HBO?” Layla’s voice was muffled because she had the blanket pulled up to her chin, but I made it out anyway and laughed. I’d talked about canceling some of the services before, but it looked like I wouldn’t be canceling this one.
“Enough to keep the HBO. If that’s what it takes.” I brought her a bottle of ginger ale and set it on the coffee table.
