Damaged, The Romance of Nick and Layla (Part 4) Read Free

empty. A void.
    I tap the photos app and a long gallery of colorful pictures pops up. Scrolling up and up I find my favorite: Tyler on his first birthday. Half his face and blonde hair is covered in thick white frosting and he is smiling profusely, frozen in a moment of utter bliss. Even with his eyes half shut I can see his bright blue eyes, see how they twinkle in delight and happiness. I can still hear the lilt in his giggle.
    “Oh my, what an adorable child!” I look up to find a man being seated at the table next to me. He’s dressed in a finely tailored gray suit with a black tie loosened at his neck. He smiles up at the hostess and takes the menu from her as he sits.
    “Sorry,” he smiles apologetically at me. “It’s rude for me to look. Yours?” he asks with interest.
    I set the phone down on the table and smile up at him as nicely as I can before grabbing for my glass of wine and taking a very deep sip.
    “I’m so sorry,” the stranger holds up a hand. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”
    “No, not at all,” I smile at him again. He smiles kindly back at me and I can see it touch his eyes. He’s handsome, I notice. Tanned with an angular face and deep brown eyes. A small patch of stubble has started to grow at his chin and I think I see a bit of gray in it. We’re sitting side-by-side at separate tables, and I’ve noticed the hostess has discreetly taken the extra set of silverware from his table as well.
    “With a few more people we could probably start our own singles section,” he jokes as he takes a look around at the tables bustling with groups and couples. Something about him puts me at ease. Or maybe it’s the wine.
    “I think the hostess pities us,” I halfheartedly joke back. His eyes light up as he looks at me with mild humor. “She took away the extra silverware from your table. Mine too.” His eyes follow to where I point opposite us and he chuckles.
    “Thank goodness I didn’t mention it’s my birthday. She might have really taken pity on me then,” he jokes.
    “Oh, is it your birthday today?” I ask, raising my glass to take another sip.
    “Friday, actually. But please, do not ask how old I’m going to be. I’m still in denial about it. And don’t let any gray hair you see fool you!” he warns me playfully.
    “My birthday is also on Friday,” I confess.
    “No kidding?” He looks genuinely surprised and delighted. Strange, but I find it charming.
    “Look,” he starts as he turns to face me. “I know this may sound a bit deranged but,” he pauses for a moment, smiling to himself. “Would you care to join me for dinner? Being birthday buddies and all?”
    I can’t help the shy smile that spreads across my face. “I don’t know,” I say, biting my bottom lip apologetically. “I don’t typically share meals with men whose names I don’t know.”
    He smiles and for a moment I’m stalled by him. He looks handsome, charming, disarming. “Of course. I understand completely. It’s nice to meet you, Miss…” he starts, emphasizing the Miss as he holds out his hand.
    “Garrett. Layla Garrett,” I reply, taking his hand and shaking it. His skin is warm and soft to the touch.
    “Layla. Like my favorite song by Eric Clapton,” he smiles easily. “Sorry, I bet you get that a lot,” he laughs.
    “Not as often as you might think actually, Mr…” I prompt.
    “Eric. Jacobson, not Clapton.”
    “Nice to meet you Eric Jacobson not Clapton.”
    Our hands release just as my waitress appears at his table. “Can I start you with anything?”
    “Well, let’s see.” He turns to face me again. “Layla, would you care to join me for a joint birthday dinner?”
    The waitress looks at me with some surprise and I feel put on the spot, but not entirely uncomfortable. He’s nice. He’s good looking. I’m alone.
    “Why not?” I acquiesce.
    In no time at all he’s joined me at my table, his lone silverware joining him across from me. He asks what I’m