The Best You’ve Ever Had

Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Ben

The last time I saw Layla was at our high school graduation. She looked annoyed to be there, while everyone else was high on the exhilaration of finishing our final day. When I had told her to lighten up, she replied with a don’t tell me what to do . After the ceremony, we took mandatory photos together, thanks to our mothers who were always ready for a photo-op of the two of us throughout the years.

As newly eighteen year olds, we were afraid to stand too close and be deemed a couple by our peers. I knew she didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about us and I respected that to the best of my ability throughout high school. But under the blinding lights of the football field, I wrapped my arm around her waist, which seemed tiny under the roomy polyester gown. Our moms were staring at us with happy tears in their eyes—their two babies transforming into adults before their very eyes.

While she grumbled about how long the picture was taking, I mumbled in her ear, “Don’t like standing next to me, Lay?” I then proceeded to act like I was going to lick her face, because I couldn’t help myself and had to take it one step further. She pushed me away with a disgusted groan, and stomped off. That was the last time I saw her for eleven years.

I’d heard from my mom what she was up to since then—deciding to become a lawyer, passing her Bar exam, landing her first job fresh out of law school. Everyone had always known she’d grow up to do great things. If one person was going to move away and make this world their bitch, it was her.

In comparison, I had stayed close to home all this time—interested in moving to a new city, yet too comfortable to make the plunge into the unknown. After high school, I went straight for my associates in fire science and right into paramedic school. My Grandpa Mick was a retired firefighter, and ever since I was a child, I had dreamt to follow in his footsteps. And I did when I was offered a job with Havenbrook Fire Department. Working so close to home is a double-edged sword. The management is full of older rickety guys that seem to always have it out for you. But the people on my crew that I see day-to-day, are ones I’ve known for years—old grade school buddies and family friends. My life may look fulfilling from the outside, but it feels like something is missing. No matter what I do, the feeling of coming up short hangs above my head.

At 6:00 a.m. my alarm blares and I rub my eye sockets with the heels of my hands to shake myself out of this perpetual emotional landslide. For the first time in days I’m waking up before lunch. With Layla showing up on my doorstep, harassing me, and then proceeding to fall asleep on my couch, I actually went to bed at a decent hour last night. No more drinking myself into a pity party stupor until I pass out in the previous day’s clothes. For my family’s well being, I need to stop wallowing and step up to support them.

I make my way out to the living room to find her still curled up in a ball. The throw blanket is tucked up to her chin, and her sleek fiery hair splays across the throw pillow. She looks adorable and innocent, the total opposite of the take-no-shit woman she always is. My cat, Hank, is curled up in the crook of her legs, looking at me as if he’s conquered an impressive quest. Little does he know, he has.

Not wanting to wake her, both so she can rest and also in fear of the terror she may rain down if I do, I head to the kitchen to start making breakfast. A few minutes after starting bacon on the stove, she appears in the kitchen.

She quirks her hip against the countertop and narrows her blue eyes at me. “You didn’t wake me up last night.”

“Was I supposed to?” I flip slices of the sizzling bacon, not even looking in her direction.

“Yes. You should’ve.”

“Well, sorry. You looked exhausted and I didn’t want to piss you off more than you already were.”

“I usually don’t go around falling asleep on random people’s couches, so I apologize.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her hair and clears her throat. “I think you were onto something about the soothing effects of shitty pawn shop shows.”

“First off, I’m not some random person—we’ve known each other for thirty years. Secondly, those D-list shows have sustained me for the last several days, so they definitely deserve some respect.”

Poking around in the cabinets, she pulls out a basket full of coffee pods and gets to work making a cup of it as if she owns the place. “About that…don’t you work? How have you been able to stay home for a week straight?”

“I’m a firefighter. I work two days straight and have four days off. But I did call in sick for a set.”

“Huh, could’ve sworn you were a police officer.”

I shake my head as I pull the bacon off the stove and plate the slices. “And I could’ve sworn you were a drill sergeant with the way you were busting my ass last night.”

She deadpans, “Funny. Hilarious. Also, very much needed, and you can’t deny that.” Popping the pod into the single serve maker, she turns toward me and crosses her arms. “But seriously, what the hell was that all about?”

The question makes me flinch, even if I did see it coming. She’s a straight shooter, and there’s a reason why our moms made her, of all people, come over here. They knew she was a Navy SEAL in a past life and would get the job done if it was the last damn thing she did.

Not making eye contact and keeping my focus on spreading butter on toast, I shrug. “He’s my grandpa. He practically raised me while both my parents worked full-time. He’s the reason why I became a firefighter…to be like him. Finding out his diagnosis sent me into a tailspin I guess. I always thought of him as being invincible, so it took me by surprise.”

This is awkward. We don’t do this. We aren’t vulnerable or share our feelings with one another. Past versions of ourselves would have teased each other relentlessly for talking about our feelings to the other.

She blows on her mug of steaming coffee. “It’s fucking devastating. That’s for sure.”

“Yep. And I just keep thinking about all the things he’s been looking forward to happening someday. Meeting my future wife, getting to hold his great grandchildren—he’s talked about that for years, and I feel guilty I’ll never be able to give him that before he…you know.”

Her blue eyes shoot up, meeting mine, when she realizes what I’m saying. Before Mick dies. “What about what’s-her-face? Barbie? I saw you post pictures together a while back.”

“Bambi. We broke up about six months ago. Wasn’t going anywhere.”

She snorts, “Yeah, could’ve told you that based on her name alone. What did her parents think she was? A cartoon deer?”

“Hey, she was nice. You don’t have room to talk if I remember correctly. Weren’t you dating some real estate guru that was featured on a TV show?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I still have flashbacks of his douchery. Great dick though.”

“Layla. TMI.” I’m not used to hearing her talk like that. High school Layla was a goodie two shoes. Not talking about guys with great dicks.

“Whatever. Back to the topic at hand. I hate to deceive your grandpa, but maybe you can get in a relationship with someone so at least he thinks you’re headed down the right path toward marriage? Act all in love, have her meet your family, tell them it’s serious. The full she-bang. Problem solved.” She shoots me finger guns and winks, before heading to the family room to gather her purse to leave. Since I was so focused on not making eye contact with her earlier, I failed to notice her lack of bra. The cool temperature causes her nipples to strain against the thin fabric of her light blue tank. Perfect little pebbles that are all perked up and ready to be licked. But what the hell am I doing, this is Layla I’m perving over. The person that I’ve known since we were in diapers.

And that’s when it hits me. Maybe there’s someone right here in front of me that my family would be extremely happy to see me with.

Maybe I can give the illusion that I am settling down, and with the one person they’ve wanted me to marry since childhood.

And just maybe, she’d be crazy enough to go along with it.