Painting Rainbows

by Kiera Jayne

  “Because I always want to look good for you.” He opened the fridge door and rifled around. “Where's the milk?”

  The milk! She forgot all about it in the panic to get away from that reporter. “I ran out.”

  “Oh.” Rick looked over at his coffee, obviously trying to decide whether it was worth drinking now.

  “Rick, you have the tiniest amount of milk in your coffee, anyway. Just have a long black,” Layla exclaimed.

  “It won't be the same.” He took a sip and grimaced. “I s’pose it’ll do.” He moved up beside her and looked at the canvas on the easel. “You started painting again?”

  “Yeah. I needed something.” Layla averted her gaze.

  She felt Rick rub her shoulder. “I'm sorry, honey.” He pressed a kiss to her dark hair.

  Layla pressed her eyes closed. A tear slid down her cheek. This all still hurt so much. Rick wasn't such a bad guy. She knew he had made a mistake, but that mistake had shattered her into pieces that couldn't easily be put back together. Rick was a guy who tended to get caught up in the moment and then afterwards, would worry about the consequences of his actions, which usually included political spin.

  “I'm sorry I put you through all of this,” Rick muttered as he stroked her hair.

  “Don't worry about it,” Layla replied.

  “I do. I want to hash this out.”

  “I don't want to fight with you, Rick.”

  “I don't want to fight, either.”

  “There’s no point,” Layla said.

  “You're my wife, of course there is. Please give us another chance, Lay-Lay,” Rick begged as he kissed her forehead.

  She pushed him away. “Finish your coffee.”

  Layla stepped out of the tiny shower and proceeded to dry herself quickly. She had spent an inordinate amount of time in there in an attempt to avoid her husband. They had talked for most of the day, trying to sort out their problems—Layla’s desire to run as far away as she could when things got too hard and why he had cheated on her in the first place.

  Layla didn’t feel that they have made much progress. Probably because she was so stand-offish. All she could think about was Grady.

  There was a soft knock at the bathroom door. “You alright in there?” Rick called.

  “Fine,” Layla replied, her voice fairly flippant.

  “Just checking you hadn’t drowned.”

  Layla rolled her eyes. “No. I’m alright.”

  “I know that’s not true, Lay-Lay. But take your time. I’ll be downstairs.”

  Layla wished he would just leave altogether, but it was late now and Rick was jetlagged. She didn’t want him driving around these unfamiliar roads in the dark.

  Layla wished she didn’t care so much. She wished she could be like those women who turned into absolute, cold-hearted bitches when they were wronged. They were the same kind of women who sold their stories to the media.

  She pulled on her flowery pyjama pants and matching cream top. Layla took a deep breath, left the bathroom and tiptoed downstairs. She froze when she reached the living room. The fire was roaring and Rick was standing in front of it, waiting for her, with two glasses of red wine. Oh, shit. He was wining and dining her? The man was the devil.

  He smiled as he took in her surprised expression. “Talking didn’t seem to work much, so I thought we could reconnect in another way.”

  He held out one of the glasses, but Layla wouldn’t take it. He set them on the mantel and rubbed his hands up and down her arms.

  “Come on, Layla. I’m really trying here. Can you give me some leeway? Please?” Rick begged.

  She didn’t want to give him any leeway. She didn’t want him to get his hopes up about anything. But when he pulled her into his arms, she melted into him like no time had passed. It was like her body remembered him on a subconscious level.

  Layla rested her head against his chest to hide her face. His heart pounded under her ear and she realised how nervous he was.

  Rick kissed her hair and grasped her hand, which rested beside her head. “I miss you. Our house isn’t the same without you. It’s soulless and cold.”

  Layla squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to hear this. A sob wracked her body and she quickly cut it short.

  “Oh, honey. I hate that I’ve done this to you. I’m such an idiot. I really didn’t mean to ruin what we had. I love you so much.”

  They were pretty words but that’s all they were to Layla, now.

  “Say something.”

  “I can’t,” Layla mumbled.

  “See, that’s always been a problem between us, Lay-Lay. You never talk to me. When we do something fun and we’re joking around, you’re an open book. But we never talk when we’re having a problem. You shut down.”

  Anger bubbled just beneath her surface. “So, is that how you’re going to justify cheating now?”

  “No, Layla, that’s not," Rick huffed, “that’s not what I mean. I just wish you would be more open with me, that’s all. I wish you would trust me.”

  “I can’t believe you used that word,” Layla growled. She pulled out of his arms as more sobs escaped her. “Trust is something that has to be earned. I trusted you completely. I loved you completely. You ruined that, Rick. You ruined everything. You can’t fix this with wine by a fireplace.”

  “I know I can’t. But it’s a start, isn’t it?”

  Layla was quiet for a minute before she spoke. “It’s too late for us.”

  Rick charged across the room. “Don’t say that.”

  Layla looked at him tiredly. “Rick…”

  “Please don't say that,” Rick repeated.

  The pain in his voice was like a knife stabbing into Layla.

  Rick grazed his fingertips down her cheek and pulled her into a kiss.

  Grady worried about Layla all day. He hoped that reporter didn't continue to harass her. He had lost track of the woman when he went to serve other patrons and he had been itching to come and check on his girlfriend ever since.

  That was an ambiguous title now, wasn't it? Layla was married, yet he considered her his girlfriend and was still in love with her. Nothing would change that.

  Grady decided he needed to chill the hell out and listen to what she had to say. He'd only recently told her she could tell him anything. He needed to prove that she still could.

  As he arrived at her cottage and stepped through the gate, he spied Layla through the living room window. She was with a smartly dressed man and they were locking lips. Grady faltered. “What the hell?” he muttered to himself.

  Was that Rick? Layla was kissing her husband after she told him it was over between them? Anger rose in him like a pot that was about to boil over.

  Grady didn't hang around.

  Layla’s arms snaked their way around Rick’s body and he pulled her closer. Her body still seemed to react of its own accord. His mouth tasted the way it always had—of rich foods and wine—and his lips were as soft and skilled as she remembered. His expensive Dior Eau Savage cologne tickled the tip of her nose as she slowly broke the off the kiss.

  Rick gazed into her eyes and noticed the desire she was trying so hard to hide. He cupped her cheeks and smiled. “There she is. No matter what you say, Lay-Lay, you can’t simply push aside your feelings for me. They don’t simply disappear, it doesn’t work like that.”

  Layla lowered her line of sight. She was ashamed of how she reacted to him on such a base level, despite how she had fallen for Grady. Layla put her left hand on Rick’s chest and was about to push him away when his large hand covered hers as his other arm looped around her waist and he began to sway with her.

  “God, I love you,” Rick whispered against her neck as he pressed a kiss there.

  Layla’s body shivered. She didn’t want her body to shiver. She didn’t want to feel these feelings anymore. She knew where this was going. Rick was smooth, he was sexy, and he was powerful. He worked hard to get what he wanted and it usually paid off.
<
br />   Rick brushed his fingers over Layla’s left hand and frowned. He glanced down at her fingers. “Where’s your wedding ring?”

  Layla’s breath shook. “I took it off.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because I had to,” Layla said as she pulled away from him.

  Rick’s voice rose an octave. “Why? Because of that guy you’ve been shagging?”

  “Yes. Because I love him.”

  “You love me!” Rick shouted.

  “I love him more!” Layla shouted back.

  As Rick stared at her, his entire body shook with anguish.

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. This thing between us—"

  “Our marriage?” Rick snapped.

  “It hurts too much. I don’t trust you. Without trust, a marriage means nothing,” Layla told him. “I admit, I still have feelings for you. Of course, I do. It wouldn’t hurt so much if I didn’t. But it was only a year, Rick. A year into our marriage and you cheated. I don’t care if it was when you were drunk, if you were inclined to do that, clearly I’m not enough for you.”

  “You don’t understand, Layla. It wasn’t anything to do with you. It was a heat of the moment thing,” Rick said. “Sometimes, when you’re in the heat of the moment, you stop thinking and things happen. I know for a fact you’ve experienced that.” Rick narrowed one eye and jabbed a finger in Layla’s direction.

  “I don’t want to wonder what you’re getting up to every time you have to travel for work, or you attend an event. I do not want to live like that. I mean it, Rick. We’re over. You can sleep on the couch tonight. But that's it. We’re done.”

  Rick huffed as Layla turned and made her way upstairs to bed.

  Layla didn’t sleep much that night and was up so early the next morning, the only creatures who were up with her were the birds. Layla made her way into the living room, where Rick was sprawled out awkwardly on the mint green three-seater lounge. She positioned herself on the edge of the tartan armchair and stared at him. She took in his long, solid body, his handsome facial features, his large, tidy hands. Everything about Rick screamed refined. Upper crust. Entitled.

  She watched the way he covered his eyes with his arm, the way he always did when he slept. Her heart didn’t skip, there were no butterflies in her stomach. All she felt was determination.

  Layla was ready to say goodbye.

  Rick stirred and slowly began to wake. He stretched, then his cobalt eyes settled on her and a sleepy smile touched his face. “Watching me sleep, Lay-Lay?”

  She didn’t respond.

  “It’s cold. Come and lay with me.” He pulled the cover back slightly and patted the narrow space of couch beside him.

  “No. Here’s what’s going to happen,” Layla said firmly. “I’m going to go and grab a coffee at Myra’s Munchies. You are going to get dressed, drive on back to London, and jump on a plane back to Canberra. You are not going to contact me in any way, shape, or form. When I’m ready, I will send divorce papers for you to sign and we’ll make this final. Got it?”

  Rick sighed as he sat up. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. “You’re really giving up on us?”

  His imploring look wasn’t going to work on her this time. “I think you did that the moment you crossed the line. Oh, and by the way,” Layla dug into the pocket of her jeans and pulled something out that had once meant the world to her, “you can have your ring back.”

  Rick hastily caught it when Layla threw it at him. He watched, gobsmacked, as the dark-haired beauty raced out of the cottage.

  It was probably too early. Surely the café wouldn’t be open yet. Layla had never been into the village at this time of the morning and she was surprised to see the butcher at work and green grocers already busy filling up with fresh produce. Further along, the small supermarket was accepting the day’s newspaper delivery.

  Myra’s Munchies was much quieter, or so it appeared. Layla made her way past the outdoor tables and tested the door. It wasn’t locked and she sailed straight in.

  “Sorry, love. We’re not quite open yet.”

  Layla froze and looked in confusion at the burly, muscular man, who was behind the serving area.

  “If you’re after a coffee, it’ll be about half an hour,” the man continued.

  “Who are you?” Layla asked.

  “I’m Will.” He scrutinised Layla as he folded his arms on the bench top. “I haven’t seen you before. You new around here?”

  “Um . . . yes,” Layla stammered. “I was wondering, um—"

  “Here we are. I told you I always keep an extra stash of coffee beans somewhere,” Myra said, inadvertently interrupting Layla as she lugged a box in from the back. “You always say to be prepared for anything, and I did listen, you know.”

  Warmth filled Will’s face at the appearance Grady’s sister. “Glad to know I’ve gotten under your skin.”

  Myra blushed when the man winked at her and suddenly, the puzzle pieces fell into place for Layla. “Wait a minute. Myra, is this your husband?”

  Myra wrapped her arms around Will’s waist and hugged him. “In the flesh. Layla O’Connell, meet Will Simmons.”

  “Oh wow, this is fantastic! It’s so nice to meet you!” Layla gushed.

  “You, too.” Will smiled at her.

  “I’m sorry about being all weird. I was expecting someone else to be here.”

  “Grady?” Myra asked, narrowing her eyes at Layla.

  Layla turned her attention to Myra. “Is he around? I really want to see him.”

  “Why?” Myra asked.

  “I need to talk to him.”

  Folding her arms, Myra said, “Do I need to worry that you’re going to break his heart?”

  “What?” Layla exclaimed. “Why would you think that?”

  “Apparently your husband’s in town.”

  Layla rolled her eyes. “Ex-husband, actually. Soon-to-be. That’s exactly what I need to talk to Grady about.”

  Myra sighed. She appeared to contemplate whether she should tell Layla anything. Finally, she said, “He’s out at the ridge where they rock climb.”

  Concern flashed across Layla’s face. “At this hour?”

  “Best time to do it. The mornings are beautiful around here and they get to see the sunrise,” Will piped up. “Look, clearly I don’t know the full story behind what’s going on here. But if you and Grady are involved—"

  “They have been,” Myra confirmed.

  “If something happened to sour what was between the two of you, and you clearly don’t want it to end, then I think you’d better get out there quick smart. Go and get the man, young lady.”

  Layla nodded and started for the door.

  “Layla,” Myra called, dangling a set of keys, “take my car.”

  As if in slow motion, Layla moved back over to the other woman, and took the keys from her grasp. “Thank you, Myra.”

  Layla wasn't one hundred percent sure of the way out to the ridge, and what had been a ten-minute ride with Grady became a twenty-five-minute drive. She was worried she might miss Grady by the time she reached the site.

  She parked Myra’s car by the roadside and carefully picked her way across the field to the group. She stopped beside the guy who was in charge of the equipment.

  “Excuse me? Hi.” Layla waved at the guy.

  “Can I help you?” he asked as he looked up from the clipboard in his hand.

  “I'm looking for Grady Bradbury. Is he here?”

  “He sure is. He never misses his climbing day,” the man replied.

  “I need to talk to him,” Layla said.

  “That might be a bit difficult right now.”

  Layla frowned. “Why?”

  The man pointed up at the rock face. “Because he's up there.”

  Layla looked up and saw one seriously sexy man halfway up the rock. “Shit,” she hissed. After a moment’s thought, she spun back around to the gear guy. “What do I have to do to clim
b that?”

  “You'll have to fill out a form, get your gear fitted, and go through the safety check,” the man replied.

  “Any chance I can skip the safety check?”

  The man shook his head. “I wouldn't recommend it.”

  “That's not a no,” Layla pressed.

  “Ma’am—"

  “Fine, just do it quickly,” Layla snapped.

  The guy grumbled under his breath as he passed her a form to fill out. After being fitted with the equipment, Layla took off towards the rock face. She was hooked up to the ropes and then she looked up.

  Her head spun.

  It was high. It was rugged. It looked dangerous.

  Layla closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. Centring herself, Layla dug her fingers into the rock and pulled herself up.

  “Have you ever done this before?” her guide asked her.

  “Once,” she muttered. The same time her brother had been hurt. Sure, he fully recovered, but the memory of seeing him fall . . .

  Layla paused again. Chill out, Layla.

  She could do this. She would do this for Grady. Ignoring the panic in her mind and the burn in her muscles, Layla steadily made her way up the rock face, and her confidence began to grow. She was beginning to feel pleased with herself. She was overcoming her fear! Layla smiled to herself as she pulled her body upwards once again.

  But the next step sent her stomach plummeting and almost her whole body with it, when her foot slipped from the foothold. Layla yelled out as she desperately scrabbled for purchase. She caught herself and clung to the rock for dear life.

  Layla couldn’t move. No matter what she did, no matter how she tried to overcome the fear, it was as if her muscles were suddenly like lead and she swore her brain might have short-circuited.

  “Layla?”

  She was barely aware of her name being called. She certainly couldn’t reply.

  “Take me back down!” the voice called.

  The sound of the zipline reached Layla’s ears and then she could feel someone beside her.

  “Layla.”

  Grady’s firm voice surrounded her.