Asking For A Friend

by Parker, Ali

  As we sat down, Annie grabbed my hand. “We have to say grace.”

  I smiled at her, closing my fingers around her tiny hand as I nodded. “Yeah. Of course. Do you want to do it?”

  Chapter 41

  Marissa

  Seeing Layton sitting down to dinner with all of us was a little surreal. When I first met him, I never would have been able to picture this scene. I wouldn’t even have been able to picture him in my home.

  He seemed too big for it. Both in physical stature and in presence.

  And yet—it felt right that he was here. I’d been thinking that way a lot lately, but somehow everything about him just felt right to me. I took it as a sign that we were both exactly where we needed to be and tuned back to the conversation happening around me.

  Denise had been drilling Layton since—oh, pretty much the moment he set foot in the house, but it didn’t look like he minded it. He kept up with her and worked through it all, question by question, and seemed to be enjoying himself in spite of the inquisition she was putting him through.

  Before he arrived, Denise and I had talked about all the questions she had for him. I asked her to take it easy on the poor guy, but evidently she had decided against it. She was protective of me, and of Annie. I figured it was better for her to get the questions out of the way so we could all move on.

  Having covered his school years and college before dinner, she had now moved on to his father. “Wouldn’t it have been easier for you to just go work for your father after you graduated instead of doing your own thing?”

  He shrugged, but I noticed it didn’t seem so effortless anymore. It was quite clear he didn’t like talking about his father. I had noticed it before, but I wondered if it was simply because his father had passed away recently. I didn’t think that anymore.

  It wasn’t grief in his eyes when he talked about him, it was something entirely different. Denise either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She waited patiently for him to answer.

  Finally, he said, “It probably would have been easier for me, but aeronautical engineering was never my thing. I didn’t even consider going into that field. Considering my father didn’t know a thing about architecture and I didn’t know a thing about designing airplanes, working for him was never an option.”

  “I suppose so,” she conceded, but I could see she wasn’t ready to let the topic slide. “What did your father think about you going to study architecture instead of engineering?”

  Layton’s shoulders tensed, but it was the tiniest of movements. “He didn’t care. He said it was my choice.”

  “Layton’s dad was so proud of him,” I said, feeling like I should add something to this part of the conversation if Layton himself wasn’t going to say it. “He said his boy was a genius. He told me all these stories about Layton’s buildings, and that whoever got to live and work in them was so lucky.”

  “That’s so sweet,” Denise exclaimed. “I bet he had a scrapbook with clippings of all your buildings. I would have had one if my child had redesigned half the city’s skyline.”

  I nodded, but not before noticing how much tenser Layton had become. When I spoke again, I made sure to look carefully at Layton. “Your dad was such a busy man, but he always made time to talk about you.”

  “Sure,” he lifted his shoulders and let them drop as if he didn’t have a care in the world. The smile he pasted on his face was definitely forced. I wondered just what had happened between him and his dad.

  “Did you know he bought a little replica of an art gallery you designed once when he was in the city?” I asked, remembering the snow globe Mr. Bridges used to keep on his desk. “It was called Ella—something. What was it called?”

  Layton’s jaw was tight when he answered. “The Eleanora?”

  “That’s the one,” I clicked my fingers and nodded. “The Eleanora. He said he saw your name somewhere when he walked in and had to have something to remember the experience by.”

  “Something except his own son?” Layton asked, almost sarcastically. He hadn’t so much as cringed or flinched at a single one of Denise’s imposing questions, but this line of conversation was getting to him. I wondered why. He wasn’t even really talking about his father, highly or otherwise. It was like he would only agree with me or answer me when I asked him something directly.

  Denise finally seemed to notice something was off too, because she smoothly asked, “Have you been to the Eleanora yet, Sissy? I went there on a date once. You would love it.”

  “Sissy?” Layton asked, instantly jumping in on the change of topic. “I haven’t been back there yet, but I hear good things.”

  “It’s Sissy because her name is Marissa, but also as a nod to how much she seems like a sister to me,” Denise offered. “You might have heard good things about the Eleanora, but let me tell you there was nothing good about the date I had there.”

  I laughed, happy when Layton laughed right along with me. Just like that, Denise managed to ease the tension that had been building in the room while we talked about his dad. She continued with her questions to him afterward, but she steered clear of his dad. I had no doubt she would ask me about it later, but there was nothing I could—or would—say.

  The rest of dinner was fun, but I couldn’t help wondering what was up between Layton and his dad. When we were finished eating, Layton brought out a dessert he picked up and it was absolutely divine. I was pretty sure he’d won Denise over by then, but if he hadn’t, the dessert definitely counted in his favor.

  Unfortunately, it was getting late and Annie started yawning soon after dessert. I gave her reddened eyes one look and knew it was almost time for bed. “Okay, young lady. That’s your night. Say good night to Layton and Denise, then go brush those teeth. I’ll be there soon.”

  Denise pushed out her chair, standing and giving Annie a hug goodbye. “I should get going, too. I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”

  Layton followed her out after saying goodbye to both Annie and Denise, but he paused when we got to the porch. Denise drove away and he took my hand, holding it gently. “Thanks for supper. That was really fun.”

  “Despite the world’s most comprehensive game of twenty questions?” I asked jokingly.

  He nodded. “It felt a little like giving an interview for an autobiography I didn’t know was being written, but that’s fine. I like that she’s so protective over the two of you.”

  “She’s been an angel in our lives.” I agreed, seeing an opening to ask him my burning question, even if I was unsure about whether I should pile on any more tonight. “Can I ask you one question of my own?”

  “Sure,” he said wearily. I held onto his hand tighter, rubbing my thumb over his knuckles. “What’s one more question?”

  My lips quirked up into a smile. “You’ve answered so many, I’m sure you can handle it.”

  “So shoot,” he said, his hand stilling in mine. He knew what was coming, I could see it in his eyes. He was bracing himself.

  “What’s up with your relationship with your dad? I can’t help but notice how tense you get whenever he comes up. I’m sorry if you don’t want to talk about it, you can just tell me to butt out.”

  Sighing softly, he shook his head. “I would never tell you to butt out. I want you to know these things about me, but it’s hard. You know?”

  Better than he could even imagine, but I didn’t tell him that. Instead, I simply nodded. “I do know how tough it can be.”

  “I was never good enough for my dad,” he said abruptly and without any further preamble.

  My brows pushed together immediately. I hadn’t been expecting him to say that at all. “What on earth makes you say that?”

  “It’s true.” The corners of his lips pressed in and his muscles appeared to be locked. When I squeezed his hand, he squeezed mine back but there was no other movement in him. It was almost like talking about his dad turned him into this untouchable statue. “It’s good to hear how much respect you had f
or him, though. He must have felt the same way about you.”

  “He felt that way about you, too,” I said stubbornly. “Honestly, I don’t mean to speak out of turn even if I do it often, but I don’t think you’re right. You were good enough for him, he adored you.”

  He smiled, but it wasn’t a very happy one. “No. He didn’t. I’m happy you thought as highly of him as you did, but the same isn’t true for me.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said sadly. Everyone had issues with their parents at some point in their lives. Heaven only knew I was no exception, but it broke my heart that Layton’s dad passed away before they could clear the air. I knew for a fact that his dad was proud of him. If he wasn’t, he’d faked it with far too much conviction to have bothered if it wasn’t true.

  But I could tell Layton honestly didn’t believe it. It wasn’t my place to try to convince him otherwise. He turned contemplative, rubbing his jaw before meeting my eyes. “Actually, I think he thought highly of you, too.”

  “What are you talking about?” Mr. Bridges and I got on well, but I doubted he would’ve thought much about me one way or another.

  Layton seemed to consider something before he said, “He left me a video.”

  “He did?” I frowned. It was the first I was hearing of it. “What did he say?”

  “He talked about you in it, among other less pleasant things,” he said, his brow furrowing. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it, but I guess it never came up and I didn’t really want to think about it.”

  “What did he say about me?” He hadn’t mentioned a thing to me. I couldn’t imagine why the man would have left a video for his son and mentioned me in it. I was no one to him, an employee who didn’t do too badly for him and nothing more.

  Layton sighed, clearly pained by the thought of the video. He pushed through, though I could see he would rather have pulled out his toenails than talk about it. “I’ll show it to you sometime, it’s easier than trying to repeat everything.”

  “You want me to watch it?” I didn’t know whether to feel shocked or honored that he would share something so personal with me.

  “If you want to see it,” he said. “I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to, but I wanted to ask you if you knew what he was talking about.”

  “I want to see it,” I said immediately. If there was anything I could do to make things easier for him, even if it was just to tell him I didn’t understand what his dad was talking about either, I would do it.

  “Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll get it ready and show you next time we’ve got some time together.”

  “Tomorrow,” I said, quickly running through Annie and Denise’s schedules in my head. “I’ll ask Denise if Annie can stay with her tomorrow night. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

  If I saw the video and it could trigger a memory that might help Layton, I wanted to do it sooner rather than later. There could be nothing worse than having been left cryptic clues by your dad. I hoped I would be able to help him solve them.

  Chapter 42

  Layton

  Marissa arrived at my apartment fifteen minutes after we left the office, which told me she’d headed right over since I only got there seconds before she did. For some reason, I was relieved to know she hadn’t wasted any time in getting here.

  I was already nervous about her reaction when she saw the video. I wanted to get it over and done with, but I was also worrying about what she was going to think about me when she did see it. The video didn’t exactly show me in a great light.

  It was the way my father saw me and I knew that, contrary to what Marissa might’ve thought his views of me were. The thing was, I didn’t really want her to see me the way he did. A part of me was afraid that showing her this video might make her see me the way he did—a good for nothing disappointment who couldn’t do anything right.

  Vulnerability wasn’t something I felt often, but knowing she was about to see that video left me feeling like I was about to flay myself wide open. Marissa smiled when I opened the door, easing my worries a little bit.

  She was a genuinely good person. I doubted she would buy into my father’s point of view of me based only on one video, but that hardly mattered anymore. She was seeing that video and I was going to have to live with whatever happened after. And whatever her opinion of me might become. Hopefully I could at least live with it and maybe get some answers.

  Stepping aside, I motioned her in. “Thanks for coming. I thought you might have changed your mind. I’m not sure I would have liked to watch a video of my recently deceased boss.”

  “I’ve been thinking about watching the video all day,” she assured me, following me inside. “You have nothing to worry about. I’m not going to change my mind.”

  It took me a second to realize she wasn’t talking about what her opinion was of me, but about watching the video. A strange regret flared through my gut. Having some kind of guarantee that the video would change nothing between us would have been nice.

  “Before you have to listen to the old man lecturing me for twenty-four and a half minutes, would you like a drink?” I asked, as we crossed my lounge and walked into my kitchen.

  “Twenty-four and a half?” She asked, raising her brows as she shrugged out of her coat. “Does he really lecture you for that long?”

  “He really lectures me for that long,” I confirmed. “Which is why I think we need a drink.”

  “I agree, let’s get a drink,” she said, hanging her coat over the back of my couch. I liked it there, even if it wasn’t in its proper place in the closet by the door.

  Under her blood red swing coat, she wore black slacks, heels and a fitted black shirt with a multitude of feathered necklaces. The top two buttons on her shirt were undone, making me wish I could rip the rest of it off and lose myself in her instead of doing what we were about to do.

  But I knew there was no point. This first, that later. Hopefully.

  Marissa walked up to me, looking at me like she knew how uncomfortable the thought of showing her the video was making me. She cupped the sides of my neck and kissed me deeply without any hesitation. I groaned softly, losing myself in her soft lips and the feel of her breasts pushed up against my chest.

  When I eventually lifted my hips, I held her close to me. “I’ve missed doing that.”

  “So have I,” she breathed, planting a final kiss on my lips before taking a step back. “Should we get that drink?”

  “Let’s,” I smiled, taking her hand and heading over to the fridge. “I have beer, wine and water. What’s it going to be?”

  She rocked her head from side to side, pouting as she thought. “I’m in the mood for a beer, I think.”

  I pulled two out, popped the tops and handed one over to her. “You might be in the mood for something much stronger later.”

  Swatting my arm, she shook her head. “Stop worrying so much. I knew your dad too, remember? I know how he could get and I still worked with him for years. He’s not going to scare me off now.”

  I sincerely hoped she was right. “If you decide to stick around after, do you want to have dinner here? I ordered up a chicken pie earlier.”

  “That sounds awesome,” she took a long pull of her beer. “So, how about we watch that video so we can get on to the good stuff.”

  “You got it.” Reluctantly, I led her into my study where I had the flash drive already plugged into my desktop computer. “Have a seat.”

  My study at home wasn’t somewhere I often entertained, so I only had the one chair in there. Earlier I considered bringing one in for myself as well, but I decided against it. I didn’t want her to see me sweat while she watched the video, so I figured it would be better to stand behind her.

  “You ready?” I asked, once she was seated. She nodded once, propped her elbows up and rested her head on her hands. I heard her sharp intake of breath when my dad’s face filled the screen.

  We watched the video in silence. Marissa was engrossed the whole
way through and thankfully, didn’t look back once. Hearing his words with her in the room was painful, more painful than it had been to watch the video by myself.

  To her credit, she didn’t look at me any differently when the video was done. I was afraid to look her right in the eye at first, but when I did I was relieved to see nothing had changed. There was a hint of sadness in her eyes, but that was to be expected. As she pointed out, she knew my dad and from the sounds of things, she actually liked him.

  “Do you have any idea what he was talking about when he said I was part of his plan?” She asked curiously.

  “None,” I shook my head. “I was hoping you would, if I’m being honest. He never said anything to you about a plan?”

  “No,” she said, pursing her lips and moving them from side to side. “I’m really trying to think, but he never mentioned anything. When we talked about you, he just talked about how proud he was. He never said anything about you two or plans he had for you.”

  “Okay,” I was a little bummed he hadn’t told her anything, but I was also relieved. When I watched the video the first time, Marissa and I had been on the outs. In the back of my mind since we made up, I wondered if she knew more than she was letting on.

  To finally know for sure that she didn’t, that she wasn’t with me because of some convoluted plan my father thought up was—comforting. It allowed another one of the barriers keeping me from letting her in properly to fall away.

  “Maybe you were just the one person in the world that he actually liked,” I told her, taking her into my arms and kissing the tip of her nose. She was, without a doubt, one of the few people I really liked.

  She laughed, tilting her head to the side. “Nah. I doubt it’s that. There has to be more to it. I’m sorry I don’t really know anything. I really wanted to help you if I could.”

  “I know.” And the strange thing was that I really did. If Marissa knew anything, she would have told me. Even if she hadn’t, I would’ve been able to see something was off in her eyes. Those blue orbs were so damn expressive.