Page 35 of The Dark Elf's Secret Baby
Like magnets, my eyes find hers again, the rich brown color twinkling in the low lighting like a set of stars. Layla chews on her full lower lip as she looks at me, a motion that sends thrills of desire catapulting through my veins. She’s just as beautiful as she was at Camp Horizon, if not more- motherhood and island life suit her.
It’s only now, staring at Layla and standing in her home after having spent the evening with her and Jasper, that the full weight of our reality hits me. I love Jasper, and I know deep down in my bones that he’s my child.
Not only that, but I love Layla. I think I always have, even if I was too much of a coward to admit it outright. Now that I know what it’s like to be with both of them, to spend easy evenings like this, I don’t think I could live any other way.
The fact that Layla’s sick only heightens my feelings of urgency. I love her, and I can’t bear to be away from her any longer, even if her mortality looms like a dangling blade above us. I want to take care of her, to help take care of Jasper while she’s still here- and then even when she’s not.
I can’t even begin to imagine how hard it’s been for her, raising Jasper alone. Even without her bronchite marias diagnosis, raising a child alone, let alone one with a penchant for magic when she has none, has had to have been difficult.
I don’t want her or Jasper to suffer for however long she has left. I want them both to be comfortable, and I want to ensure that Jasper is safe and cared for even after she’s passed. It’s only when Layla clears her throat awkwardly and returns to the kitchen to finish the last of the dishes that I realize that Layla and I have just been staring at one another in silence.
“Thank you,” Layla says softly, her back to me as she scrubs a pot.
“For what?” I ask, immediately going to her side and rolling up my sleeves to help. She looks sideways at me but says nothing as I pick up a bowl and a washcloth, setting to work.
“For helping. With Jasper, and this, I suppose,” She replies. Her voice shakes slightly, and it dawns on me that she’s nervous. The thought has me fighting a smile- if she’s nervous, maybe I stand a chance. Maybe it means there’s still something between us for her, that she won’t just kick me out like she did last time.
“You don’t have to thank me,” I say, trying hard to keep my voice gentle. Last night I was brash, let my words get away from me. I won’t let the same thing happen this time.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, changing paces. Layla freezes for a moment before turning to me, the pot forgotten in her hand as her dark brows knit together.
“Um… I’m fine. How are you?” She asks. So we’re playingthatgame. I don’t know if I should just come out and say that I know about her diagnosis, for fear of being too forward and pushing her away again, but I’m not really sure how else to go about this.
“I’m fine.”
“That’s good,” She says, still looking at me as if I’ve sprouted an arm between my eyes. I shift awkwardly on my feet, trying to decide how to push forward.
“You don’t have to lie to me, Layla,” I say finally, feeling like it’s the only response left in my arsenal short of completely exposing my prior knowledge of her medical history. It feels like a breach of privacy to have read her file, now that I’m standing in front of her. There was no way for me to know what I’d find before I did it, but nonetheless, I doubt she’d like it very much if she knew outright that I’d snooped around.
Layla sighs, her face pinched slightly, and relief blooms in my chest. Finally, we’re on the same page again! She drops the pot into the sink, sinking down into a chair at the kitchen table as I settle into one across from her.
“What’s going to happen to Jasper?” I ask. Surely, she must have given some thought to what would happen to her son after she passes. Evidently, I’ve fumbled things again, because her features immediately twist into alarm after hearing my question.
“What do you mean what’s going to happen to Jasper?” She asks, her voice growing progressively higher.
“No no, I just mean… you know, when things run their course,” I supply awkwardly, not wanting to come right out and talk about her death. Her confusion and mounting alarm don’t subside, however, so I steel myself, fixing my gaze on the table and coming right out about my concerns.
“I know about your diagnosis, the bronchite marias. I found your file when I took over as Lieutenant, and I just had to know what had happened to you. I saw the healer’s notes when I went looking. I’m sorry for invading your privacy, it was never my intent, but when I knew you were dying I had to come, even just to see you one last time.
“I don’t know how you’ve managed to hang on for so long, your strength is incredible, especially now that I know you’ve been caring for Jasper along with being ill. I just can’t stand the thought of something happening to him once you eventually…” I trail off, realizing I’ve been babbling.
I force myself to meet Layla’s eyes as silence envelops us, only to find that she’s shrunk nearly all the way back into her chair, her face a startling shade of crimson. My mouth opens and closes uselessly as I flounder for the words to make this better.
Have I embarrassed her? Insulted her? I didn’t mean to insinuate she hadn’t made arrangements, I just wanted to make sure they were both going to be taken care of!
“Oh, um… I’m… I’m not sick,” Layla squeaks out, her eyes darting nervously to mine. At first, it doesn’t register what she’s said, my jaw slack as I simply look at her dumbfounded.
“But…” I start before Layla cuts me off.
“The healer, she, um… when I found out I was pregnant, I put in for a transfer. She put it on my paperwork to make sure I got one,” She says, her teeth catching her lower lip as she finishes.
A myriad of emotions storm through me all at once. There’s a part of me that’s angry she would have scared me like this, or been so desperate to get away from me that she would’ve lied about something so serious. Another part of me feels nothing but bone-wobbling relief that the woman I love is okay, is healthy and alive and not going anywhere soon. And yet another part of me is absolutely incredulous, in awe of her resourcefulness and tenacity, floored by her sharp mind once again.
I try to find the words to describe all of the things I’m feeling, but all that comes out is an incredulous laugh. Once that first laugh slips out, the dam breaks, and soon I’m cackling like a maniac in my chair.
“It’s not funny,” Layla says, her words clipped as her eyes flash, embarrassment and anger mingling in her gaze. I only howl harder at her words, the ridiculousness of the entire situation catching up with me all at once.
It doesn’t take long for a nervous giggle to slip out of Layla as she watches me laugh, her posture relaxing as she seems to begin to see the situation for what it is. Before long the both of us have dissolved into a fit, our chests heaving as we try to catch our breath between laughs.