Bring Me Back by B.A. Paris

Author:B.A. Paris
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

THIRTY-FOUR

FINN

Layla’s last message made me jumpy, like I was losing control. She’d made it sound like some kind of test. What was she thinking—that if I told Ellen she was back, Ellen would move out so that she could move in? Or that Ellen, sure of my love for her, would ask me to choose between them? But how could I? I feel terrible, because it should be simple.

Looking over at Ellen as she gets dressed, I feel a stab of shame. I should have told her about Layla—but there’s no point now. A week has gone by since that last email and I haven’t heard anything since. I tell myself that it’s for the best. But how can I forget everything that has happened, go back to how I was before? It will be the not-knowing all over again—not knowing where Layla is, not knowing where she was, not knowing why she came back, only to disappear again.

“Is everything all right?” Ellen asks, and I realize I’ve been staring at her, except that I wasn’t seeing her, I was seeing Layla.

“Yes, sorry. I was miles away.”

“Well, now that I’ve got your attention, can I talk to you about something?” She pauses, pulls a gray vest top on and picks up a pair of pale gray jeans, and I guess she’s going to ask me about plans for our wedding, because with it less than three months away, we need to get down to the technicalities, who we’re inviting and where we’re holding the reception. I had thought of holding it at The Jackdaw but something tells me Ellen is expecting more than steak and chips, and that the wedding isn’t going to be the simple affair I’d hoped it would be.

“Go ahead,” I tell her, determined to give her my fullest attention.

She finishes pulling on her jeans, takes something from the pocket and holds out her hand. “This came through the door yesterday.” Looking down, I see a little Russian doll lying in her palm. Hiding my shock, I pick it up and make a show of examining it, giving myself time. Doll number seven—I have five and Ellen now has two. “I should have told you straightaway, I know, but…” her voice trails off.

I want to ask her why she didn’t but then I remember all that I’ve been keeping from her.

“When you say it came through the door, do you mean it was pushed through the letterbox?” I say, handing the doll back to her.

“No, it came in an envelope.”

“Who was it addressed to?”

She frowns at this. “Me, of course. I wouldn’t have opened it otherwise.”

I’m angry that Layla has done this, that she’s gone ahead and done what she threatened to do. “Was it typewritten or handwritten?”

“Typewritten. The thing is…” She hesitates.

“Yes?”

“I guessed what it was before I even opened it. It wasn’t just the shape, it’s more that I’ve been expecting something like this.” She looks at me defiantly. “I know you said it wasn’t Layla that I saw in Cheltenham that day but it was.

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