James “Come on, Layla,”I mutter to myself as I take my 118th lap around the foyer. Yes, I’ve counted them all. “Check your damn phone!” It’s been six hours since I sent her the photo that would fix everything, and still nothing. She must have turned it off, or worse, given it to Gina. Or even worse, hopped on a plane to Paris or something. She easily could have; she has one of my credit card numbers that I gave her to order cooking supplies. “Are you really not going to eat anything?” Al asks, coming in from outside. He’s holding a bag of burgers from Gino’s, one of my favorite restaurants. Normally, the smell would have my stomach rumbling and I’d be ready to chow down, but nothing is normal now – in fact, it hasn’t been since the moment Layla walked through my door. “I’ll be fine, Al. I’m not wasting away.” “You need your protein,” he jokes. “Unless you want all that working out to go to waste.” “Put them in the kitchen,” I tell him. “Maybe I’ll eat later if I’m hungry.” Al d
 آخر تحديث : 2025-09-23
آخر تحديث : 2025-09-23