Chapter 4

Layla

Taylor’s chair scraped sharply against the floor.

“We’re leaving.”

I turned to him.

“Taylor—”

“No.”

He pushed his chair back and stood.

Every trace of warmth had disappeared from his face.

“Get your things.”

My stomach tightened.

I didn’t want to stay. God knew I didn’t.

But having Taylor drag me out of his family’s home because of me somehow felt worse.

“It’s fine,” I said quietly.

His eyes dropped to mine.

“No, Layla. It isn’t.”

“Taylor,” Evelyn said. “Sit down.”

He ignored her.

I could feel everyone watching us again.

Wonderful.

Because apparently being quietly humiliated hadn’t been enough. Now I got to leave in the middle of lunch with the entire Whitmore family watching.

Richard set his fork down.

“That was unnecessary, Harvey.”

My eyes moved toward him.

Harvey hadn’t moved.

He remained in his chair, expression calm, as though asking who would pay for my mother’s surgery had been no more offensive than asking about the weather.

He didn’t apologize.

Of course he didn’t.

Taylor looked at him.

“You had no right.”

Harvey reached for his glass.

That was all.

Somehow, his silence only made Taylor angrier.

“Taylor.” I pushed my chair back. “Please.”

His attention returned to me.

I shook my head.

I didn’t want this.

Whatever Harvey Whitmore thought of me, I wasn’t going to sit at his family’s table and defend myself to him.

Taylor’s expression softened.

He held out his hand.

I took it.

“Taylor,” Evelyn tried again as I stood. “There’s no reason for the two of you to leave like this.”

“There’s every reason.”

“Your father has already told Harvey his question was inappropriate.”

“And Harvey clearly doesn’t agree.”

“Taylor.”

“Mom, enough.”

Silence fell again.

Taylor picked up my purse from the back of my chair and handed it to me.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

My face still felt hot.

I wanted the front door.

The car.

Anywhere that wasn’t this dining room.

Taylor placed his hand against my back and started guiding me away from the table.

“Taylor.”

He stopped at his mother’s voice.

Evelyn had risen from her chair.

“At least let us start again another day. We’ve barely had a chance to get to know your girlfriend.”

Taylor went still.

So did I.

Then he turned.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

Evelyn frowned.

“What?”

Taylor reached for my left hand.

My heart jumped.

“Taylor.”

He lifted it.

The diamond caught the light.

Silence.

Evelyn’s eyes dropped to the ring.

Richard’s did the same.

Sophie’s lips parted.

Celeste sat straighter.

Vivienne stared openly at my hand.

“Layla is my fiancée.”

Nobody spoke.

Taylor lowered my hand but kept hold of it.

“We’re getting married.”

Evelyn stared at him.

“You’re engaged?”

“Yes.”

“Since when?”

“Last week.”

Richard’s expression hardened.

“And you’re only telling us now?”

“This was why I brought her today.”

Vivienne looked between us.

“You’ve known each other for eleven months.”

“I know how long we’ve been together.”

“And you don’t think this is a little fast?”

“No.”

Celeste’s eyes dropped to my ring.

I caught the movement.

And suddenly I could almost see the list forming in her head.

Westbridge.

Junior financial analyst.

No family business.

My father’s new job.

My mother’s specialist.

And now a Whitmore diamond on my finger.

My stomach twisted.

Taylor’s hand tightened around mine.

“I brought Layla here because I wanted you to meet the woman I’m going to marry.”

His gaze moved around the table.

“I wasn’t asking for permission.”

“Taylor,” Evelyn began.

“I’m done, Mom.”

He looked at me.

“Come on.”

Nobody stopped us this time.

I kept my eyes forward as Taylor led me from the dining room.

I didn’t care what Harvey Whitmore thought of me.

I knew who I was.

And more importantly, so did Taylor.

At least one person in that house did.

The front door closed behind us.

I released a breath I felt as though I’d been holding since we arrived.

Taylor kept walking.

Fast.

Rigid.

His anger hadn’t faded.

I followed him down the stone steps toward the car.

“Taylor.”

He stopped.

“You didn’t have to fight with them.”

“They were insulting you.”

“They were asking questions.”

“Those weren’t questions, Layla.”

I looked back at the estate.

“They think I’m using you.”

Taylor was silent.

That was answer enough.

My chest tightened.

“You told me they’d love me.”

“I know.”

“You could have warned me.”

His expression changed.

“I didn’t think they’d behave like that.”

“You knew what Harvey was like.”

“I knew he’d be difficult. I didn’t know he was going to start asking who was paying for your mother’s surgery.”

I folded my arms.

“And your aunt?”

Taylor exhaled.

“Vivienne is Vivienne.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“I know.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then Taylor stepped closer.

“I should’ve prepared you better.”

“Yes. You should have.”

“I’m sorry.”

I looked at him.

There was no grin this time. No attempt to make light of it.

Just Taylor.

Sorry.

Some of my anger faded.

Not all of it.

“Do you think I’m using you?”

His expression changed immediately.

“No.”

“Taylor—”

“No.” He stepped closer. “I don’t.”

The answer came without hesitation.

I searched his face.

He took my hand.

“Whatever they think is their problem. Not ours.”

I looked down at our joined hands.

The diamond on my finger suddenly felt heavier than it had this morning.

“I really wanted them to like me.”

“I know.”

His thumb moved across my hand.

“Give them time.”

I wasn’t sure time would change anything.

But I nodded.

Taylor opened the passenger door.

“Come on. I’ll take you home.”

I climbed inside.

And as we drove away, I watched the Whitmore estate disappear behind us.

For the first time since we’d arrived, I was relieved to see it go.

By the time Taylor pulled up outside my house, most of the anger had drained out of me.

The embarrassment hadn’t.

That, apparently, intended to stay.

Taylor shifted the car into park.

“You okay?”

“I’ll survive.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

I looked at him.

“I’m tired.”

His expression softened.

“I know.”

He reached across the console and took my hand.

“I’m sorry today went like that.”

“So am I.”

“They’ll come around.”

“You sound very confident.”

“I am.”

I wished I shared it.

Taylor lifted my hand and pressed a kiss against my fingers.

“Call me later?”

“I will.”

“And don’t sit in there replaying everything they said.”

“I make no promises.”

“Layla.”

“I’ll try.”

That seemed to satisfy him.

He leaned across the console and kissed me.

I kissed him back.

Whatever had happened inside that house, none of it had changed how I felt about him.

That mattered.

Maybe more than anything else.

“I love you,” he murmured.

My chest softened.

“I love you too.”

I opened the door.

“Talk later.”

“Definitely.”

I climbed out and closed it behind me.

Taylor waited until I reached the entrance before pulling away.

I watched his car disappear down the street.

Then I turned toward the house.

Home.

Thank God.

I opened the door.

And stopped.

My stepmother, Cecilia, was sitting in the living room.

Chloe sat beside her, while Ryan occupied the armchair opposite them, phone in his hand.

All three looked at me at once.

I stared.

Had they been waiting?

Cecilia sat forward.

“Well?”

Not hello.

Not how are you.

Not even how was lunch.

Just—

Well?

I closed the door.

“What?”

“How did it go?”

Chloe put down her phone.

“Did they like you?”

I looked between them.

Apparently they had been waiting.

I set my purse down.

“No.”

Cecilia’s expression changed immediately.

“What do you mean, no?”

“They didn’t like me.”

“None of them?”

“I didn’t exactly take a survey.”

“Layla.”

I closed my eyes briefly.

“I had a terrible afternoon. Can we please do this later?”

“Did something happen?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“His family asked questions. They didn’t like the answers. Harvey was rude. Taylor got angry. We left.”

“Harvey?” Cecilia repeated.

“His older brother.”

Ryan finally looked up from his phone.

“The one who runs the family?”

“Yes.”

“And he doesn’t like you?”

“No.”

His phone lowered completely.

That got his attention.

Cecilia stood.

“What exactly did he say?”

“I don’t want to talk about Harvey.”

“Layla, this is important.”

I stared at her.

“I just spent hours being questioned by his family. I don’t want to come home and be questioned by mine.”

Her expression softened.

Or tried to.

“I’m only asking because I’m concerned.”

“Then can we do it later?”

I started toward the hallway.

“Wait.”

I stopped.

Cecilia’s eyes had dropped to my left hand.

To the ring.

“Taylor didn’t change his mind, did he?”

I frowned.

“Change his mind?”

Her gaze remained on the diamond.

“You’re still getting married?”

Chloe watched me closely.

I stared at them.

“There it is.”

Cecilia frowned.

“What?”

“I just told you his family treated me like I was something Taylor dragged in off the street.”

“I know, and that’s awful.”

“But the first thing you want to know is whether we’re still getting married.”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

She hesitated.

Only for a second.

But I saw it.

“I’m worried about you.”

Chloe spoke before I could answer.

“Taylor stood up for you, didn’t he?”

I looked at her.

“Yes.”

“Then that’s what matters.”

Cecilia nodded quickly.

“Exactly.”

“They don’t want me in their family.”

“They’ll come around.”

“You don’t know that.”

“They will once they realize Taylor is serious about you.”

Ryan shifted in his chair.

“So the engagement is still on?”

I turned toward him.

“Yes.”

His shoulders relaxed.

Actually relaxed.

I stared at him.

Cecilia smiled.

“See? Then don’t let today upset you so much. Families like the Whitmores are protective. Especially when there’s that kind of money involved.”

That kind of money.

Something uncomfortable moved through me.

“I didn’t say I was ending my engagement.”

“Good.”

The answer came too quickly.

I looked at her.

A few minutes ago, she’d been tense. Chloe had put away her phone. Ryan had actually stopped whatever he was doing long enough to pay attention.

Now?

Chloe was looking at her phone again.

Ryan had already done the same.

Cecilia’s shoulders had relaxed.

Everything was fine again.

Because Taylor and I were still getting married.

I stood there for another second.

“I’m going to my room.”

“Layla.”

I looked back.

“Don’t let his family get into your head,” Cecilia said. “Taylor loves you. That’s what matters.”

I nodded.

Then I walked away.

Halfway down the hall, I heard Chloe laugh at something on her phone.

Just like that, they had moved on.

I hadn’t.

Hours earlier, I’d walked into the Whitmore estate afraid they would think I wasn’t good enough for Taylor.

I’d been wrong.

They thought something much worse.

They thought I wanted something from him.

My hand closed around the strap of my purse.

I looked back toward the living room.

Maybe I wasn’t the one they should have been worried about.