Filed to story: Submitting to My Bestie’s Daddy Read Online >>???
Not only had I led her to believe, falsely, that I was no longer interested, but in the end, I lost her anyway. She was in so much pain while I kept my silence, too afraid to speak up. In reality, my heart dripped with love for her and the life she had planned.
Why hadn’t I sounded as excited for her to get that modeling job? She was looking forward to hearing my thoughts, I could tell by how the calls started off when she was telling me. There had been a chance she couldn’t find work anywhere, yet there she was.
Allegra was such a powerful, beautiful woman, and what was I? A liar and traitor, too easy to manipulate, the consequence of which was showing now. More tears spilled down my cheeks as I rounded another corner, arriving at the coffee shop.
I took a seat, burying my face in my hands and waiting for this inevitable talk with Becca. She was going to be so angry with me, justifiably. She and James had been fighting about going to Italy, so I doubted she believed him when he told her.
She would believe me, though, because this time, I’d be telling the truth. I let out a low cry from the bottom of my throat, just trying to compose myself here and failing. All of these concerned stares were making me beyond nervous.
So much so that I jumped when the server came around. She was a young waitress with a sympathetic gleam in her eyes. “You okay, honey?” she asked, her voice dripping with concern. I didn’t tell her the truth, rather, I just nodded.
“Yeah,” I said in a shaky tone. “Just composing myself from some sad news. I’m sorry,” I said, causing her to furrow her brow and shake her head.
“No need to apologize, just making sure, dear. Is there anything you’d like, or do you want peace for now?” she asked. I contemplated matters and then gave a nod, staring at my hands and avoiding eye contact following that.
“A cup of hot tea, please,” I requested softly. With that, the waitress went off to fulfill my order, leaving me alone in my thoughts. As much as I tried to stop them, the tears kept on flowing. People I cared about were going to leave me soon.
Allegra probably had already. She had every right to never want to see me again. Despite that, I couldn’t shake the feelings I had for her. Maybe there was a way she could forgive me. As much as I doubted it, I needed to try.
My eyes kept falling on the entrance of the coffee shop as I tried, and kept failing, to compose myself. A cup of tea was placed in front of me, causing me to jump. “Thanks,” I said to the waitress, who nodded.
“Just let me know if you need anything else,” she said, once more leaving me alone. I blew on the tea, hoping it would help me relax even if only somewhat. By the nausea in my stomach, I doubted that would be the case.
Eventually, the bell chimed, indicating someone had entered the cafe. I swallowed, locking eyes with the woman who entered. Her brown hair was frazzled, her blue eyes glinted with concern and outrage, and her posture was tense.
Becca.
I considered, for a moment, ducking my head and pretending I wasn’t here. I couldn’t hide from this, though. I got the courage to tell Allegra and lost her. She hung up on me. Knowing I’d probably lose Becca, too, I still motioned her over with a shaky sigh.
She took a seat before me, giving a light smile and nodding. “Hey, Layla. Sorry about how James behaved there. He lost his mind. You didn’t deserve that. I think he’s on edge because I don’t want to go to Italy,” she explained.
I gave a half-shrug, knowing the real reason. Softly, I said, “It’s okay. His anger was justified. Would you like anything? I can cover the bill today. I don’t mind.” I watched Becca narrow her eyes at the ‘justified’ comment and winced.
“What do you mean, Layla? Justified? He was shouting at you and woke the kids. I think it’s far from justified. What he said was ridiculous. You aren’t saying he was right, are you?” she asked. This was it. The moment of reckoning.
I gave a long pause, drowning in my misery for a moment. I opened, then closed my mouth, trying to find the words to properly tell her how sorry I was. How much this was a mistake, how misled I was, how I really did care about her and the kids.
All I could say was, “Becca, I’m sorry.”
“Layla, no,” Becca muttered, her jaw dropping. “He can’t be right. Please. Tell me he’s wrong.”
“He’s… h-he’s… he’s not wrong, Becca. I’m so s-sorry, th-they lied to me, I th-thought you did something you didn’t, I was just t-trying to do the right thing! Really, I, I mean, really, I’m sorry, and, a-and….” Just like with my admission to Allegra, I was tripping over my words.
Becca locked eyes with me, shock crossing her features. Her mouth was stuck open as she tried to process what I was saying. She probably spent the entire time getting here convincing herself that was James told her wasn’t true.
“Layla,” she whispered, just loud enough for me to hear. “You’re fired.”
Becca.
Everything was spiraling out of control. I thought the trial would be the end of many worries, but I was wrong. Apparently, it just signified the beginning. Tears began streaming down my face as I stared Layla down.
She had buried her face into her hands and was sobbing, but I couldn’t look at her anymore. I couldn’t deal with being here at the cafe at all. I stood up from my chair and whirled, shoving it into the table and storming out of the place.
Layla had been someone I could rely on.
She listened to me when I complained about how stubborn James was being, or my woes during the trial regarding the Cartwrights. I thought she cared dearly about the children, but clearly, I’d thought wrong.
Tears poured down my cheeks as I hurried down the street, now shifting to a run. Dusk was causing the sky to darken, and I foolishly didn’t take a car here. The streets were lit up, so I wasn’t too concerned about getting jumped, but still, I walked briskly.
By the time I took a few turns and rounded the corner to get home, I was full-on sobbing. I wanted to throw myself onto my bed and cry for the rest of the night. At the moment, I felt like I had no one. Not James, not Layla.
I thought of how I saw Layla constantly playing with Alessandro and Dahlia. She had a beautiful, brilliant smile that always lit up the room. She knew just what to do when either child started crying. She knew their favorite toys and favorite activities.
She had always been there encouraging their growth, speaking and giggling with them when they did, too. When James and I were in need or in a tough spot, she was there. When we needed to leave at the last minute, she usually could cover, no problems.
I wouldn’t find another nanny like Layla, but it was something we’d have to do. She wasn’t to be trusted after that. Working with the people who’d done terrible things like that, all because she thought I stole money? Why didn’t she talk to me? After Sarah, I thought my trouble with nannies was over, but apparently, I had been wrong. Maybe I should let someone else pick the next nanny.
James had lost his mind on Layla, and now I understood why. I was still so mad at him for not budging on the Italy thing. I should have brought up my idea about Guatemala when moving was mentioned again, but I still wanted to do some more research before presenting the idea.
Eventually, I arrived at the end of our street and got closer to the house. However, I began to notice something off right away. There was a gathering of people at my doorstep, something that caused my heart to pound. This was just what I needed.
The first person that became clear to me as I drew closer was a woman with blonde hair tied up in a bun with blue eyes that gleamed like a hawk looking at a rabbit. Terese fastened her stare on me, a scowl plastered across her face.
Other people there included Marilyn, who may as well have been a carbon copy of Terese even if they weren’t related. There was no variety in their stance, what they wore, the style of their hair. They were carbon copies, inhuman, like cardboard, and had no love for me.
Stepford wives. Vultures who fed on the misery of others, no doubt, but what were they doing at my home? I recalled what was said during the trial, feeling my fists clench at the thought of them trying to get my son taken away from me.
They knew Alessandro had been repeating the word ‘fuck’ and tried having it used against me. My child’s life could have been doomed forever because of them, and they knew it, too. I was seeing red by the time I got close enough to say something.
“I see the farmer let the pigs out of their pen. Why did they all come running here?” I asked softly, staring Terese down.
She flipped her hair and scoffed, eyeing me up and down. Her fake breasts jiggled as she did so, which was about as unappealing as her plastic face.
No doubt, my makeup had run a little, which was evident on my face. One thing after another today. I didn’t need this.
“Ah, Becca, just the b*tch we were looking for,” Terese said. “The trash has yet to be taken out. You’re still here. So are your bastard son and daughter.”
Marilyn nodded, her expression just about as ugly as Terese’s. My interaction with these harpies came flooding back, and I let out an annoyed sigh.
My lip twitched in irritation, and I snapped, “Get off of my lawn and away from my house. I don’t care what a bunch of bitch ass Barbies have to say about my children, or whether I’m welcome here.”
“Tch, ‘prostituta,’ we’re overjoyed you got your kid back. Ecstatic, so happy for you,” Terese said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “But there’s no place for a dirty whore like you here. Get the f*ck out.”
“You can’t tell me what to do,” I snarled, slamming my foot onto the ground. I considered slapping her again but wasn’t sure if I’d get away with it. Her disgusting friends may help her in lashing back out. I could get the police called on me, which was the last thing I needed right now.
“Oh, but we can,” Terese said through her teeth, giving a fake, disgusting smile. “Our little tip to Cecelia didn’t help chase you off. You won your bastard godson anyway, but we’ll continue to make your life a living hell until you’re out of here.”
More tears began streaming down my face as I found it hard to speak through my anger. My throat closed somewhat, but I needed to hold it together. After taking several deep breaths, I muttered, “You bimbo bitches almost cost me my son.”
Marilyn snapped, “Oh, if only that were the case, you’d be gone faster. Trash like you shouldn’t dirty up our neighborhood.” A choir of Karens sounded off right then in agreement with the Stepford wife, causing me to consider flat-out uppercutting their ringleader.
Maybe that would show them.
I resisted the urge to do so, glancing around to meet eyes with Antoinette. She was standing there with the rest of them, her eyes glimmering with guilt. Unlike last time, she wasn’t speaking up to help.
