Quiet Angel (22 page)

Gage appeared in the balcony doorway and wrapped an arm around her waist. “I see you met my godfather.”

“Sure did,
Governor
Montgomery,” Layla said, smiling through gritted teeth.

Gage laughed. “What craziness has he been saying to you?”

“Not craziness!” Governor Clements said. “We need to strike while the iron’s hot! Georgia is split down the middle. This state is hungry for a third party candidate. You’d be strong, Gage. I know it!”

“Not tonight,” Gage said and motioned the governor back to the party. “Go spend some money.” The old man nodded and gave Layla one last look before heading inside.

Layla pushed Gage’s hand off her. “You want to be governor? Since when?” Gage closed the balcony door. “Don’t you think you should tell me something like that? Is this why you want to get married so quickly?”

“Angel,” he said calmly, “I’ve been approached to run. Governor Clements—my godfather—and a few others ask me like everyday. I haven’t given them an answer.”

“But it looks better if you’re married.”

“How can you say something like that?”

“Your godfather pointed it out to me! Trust me, it wasn’t anything I was thinking about. Are you using Hoping Cottage in some way?”

“No! Did he say that?”
What a disaster. I guess we’re not getting a hotel room.

“Not exactly. But he did say he knew tonight was about me!”

“He said that? It’s not just for you. It’s for all of Hope Cottage, the girls, Sarah. I’m really sorry he said that. He gets excited.”

“And he said I’ll need to answer questions about my past on the campaign trail! Gage, did you tell him what happened to me?”

“No! I would never! How could you think that?”

“Because he said he knew about it!”

“I didn’t tell him anything. He doesn’t know anything. He’s just very, um, perceptive.”

She threw a hand on her hip. “Oh, so I give off some signal that I was molested?”

“No! Jesus! That’s not what I meant! He just reads situations. He makes connections. He figures things out. He’s always thinking three steps ahead. I’m so sorry. I’ll talk to him.”

“You need to talk to
me
! You’re thinking about running for public office. That’s something I should know—before asking me to marry you!” She turned the ring on her finger as reality sunk in. “I just don’t know about this. There are so many things we haven’t talked about—things to work out, things we don’t know about each other.”

His stomach dropped. “Like?”

“What about my store? Where are we going to live? Do you expect me to move to Atlanta? Do you want kids? When? How many? We almost had sex in that limo, and you don’t even know if I’m on birth control.”

Gage exhaled. “You can do whatever you want with the store. We can live in Savannah or Atlanta. I can commute if that’s what you want. I want kids in a few years but want to enjoy you first. I’d like either two or four, an even number. And I assume you’re on birth control.” He smiled at her. “How’d I do?”

“Bad,” Layla said. “Saying we can do whatever I want is a cop-out. You have to have a feeling one way or another. The kids thing is fine, but only two. And guess what, buddy, I’m not on birth control, so we could’ve started the kids thing way earlier.”

“Well, I guess since we’re getting married in a month,” he said, “it really doesn’t matter when we start.” Layla threw up her hands and started towards the door. He grabbed her before she reached it. “Hey, I was kidding. We’ll figure it all out. We’ll make those decisions together.”

“And the decision on running for governor?”

“That, too,” Gage said, nuzzling her nose. “If I really was sure, I would’ve already announced. But I’m not sure. We can and will talk about it. Maybe I should have talked to you before. I just hadn’t figured things out in my own mind yet.”

Layla offered a slight smile. “I need a little time.” She stepped away from him towards the balcony door. “I can’t marry you in a month.” She opened the door and disappeared into the ballroom.

Gage felt like he could throw up. He thought to run after her but figured she needed space. His godfather was a good man—like a second father—but he could come on strong. The old man must’ve really done a number on her. Gage kicked himself for not telling her everything weeks ago. He searched his mind for what to do. He looked up to the night sky and offered a few words to Layla’s angels. It was worth a shot. Maybe they were out there somewhere. Maybe one of them was on call. He waited a few minutes for a response, but there were no butterflies, no feathers—nothing.

“$5.5 million!” Emerson shouted over a microphone. “Come on up to the stage, baby brother! I’ve got your guitar waiting!”

Gage shook his fists at the heavens. “Shit!”

*

The crowd gathered,
as Gage walked to the stage. Layla could tell his stride wasn’t as crisp as before, that he didn’t want to be up there. He was pushing out a smile. She wondered what he’d be singing this time. It would be different than what he sang this morning. Gage started by thanking everyone for an incredible night, for the incredible donations, and assured everyone the money would be put to good use.

“I can see it on your face,” Poppy whispered to Layla. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“No,” Layla whispered back. “Dash, have you had a good night?”

“Yeah,” he said, “and I’ve been trying to tell Poppy it will be even better in a hotel room later.”

Layla raised her eyebrows. “What do you think about that, Poppy? Are you up for that?”

“The man’s got dick confidence,” Poppy said. “I’ll give him that.”

“I assure you I’ve earned it,” Dash said.

Gage picked up his guitar. Amidst an array of flashing cameras, he slung the strap over his shoulder and took a seat on a stool.

Dash winced at the first chord, sensing some country song. “What the hell is this crap?”

Layla didn’t respond, though she’d heard Blake Shelton and Christina Aguilera’s “Just a Fool” a hundred times before. She looked down at her feet, sensing his eyes were on her.

Poppy wrapped an arm around Layla. “I’m so glad you’re marrying him.”

Layla looked at the diamond on her finger, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. She looked up at the stage. His eyes, as she suspected, were locked on her. And she sensed everyone else was looking at her, too, as he sang about waiting for a long-lost love to come back. She heard the pain in his voice, the pain she’d left him with 12 years ago, the pain she’d left him with 10 minutes ago.
I don’t want to hurt him again
.

But what Governor Clements had said was just too much, and the fact that Gage had kept everything from her was just as bad. She felt a little cry sneak out.

Gage undid his
tie and tossed it on the floor. The best day of his life, the best night of his life, had turned to shit. Layla reached for his hand, as he reached for Pippa. He put the dog on her leash and went downstairs for a walk. He needed some space, a moment of calm, to think through what she said, and everything leading up to it.
I can’t marry you. . . .

He took Pippa to a small area of grass and watched her piss all over it. It seemed fitting. The rest of what Layla said—
in a month
—didn’t matter. The first four words were what mattered. Her doubts were what mattered. In a few hours, they were supposed to fly out to see his mother, so he could introduce Layla as his fiancée. Now he wasn’t even sure she was anymore.

Layla approached quietly from behind. “If it’s not because of the campaign, why are you in such a hurry to marry me?”

He turned to face her, still in the ice blue dress, her feet bare. “It has nothing to do with the campaign. I told you that. I just want to be with you, to start our life together.”

“Is it because you’re scared? Don’t rush to marry me because you’re scared.”

“You think I want to marry you because I’m
scared
?”

“Yes, I think you’re scared of losing me. If you’re honest with yourself, you’ll admit that’s part of it.”

“No, it’s not!” he barked. “Besides, you promised you wouldn’t run off again.”

“I’m not. I’m right here.”

“Bullshit. You are fighting this, us, at every turn—like there’s some rulebook about how long a couple has to date, how long an engagement should be. I hope that when we’re 90 years old, I’m still learning things about you. I hope you can still surprise me.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to marry you,” she said, a few tears beginning to fall. “It’s just that girl tonight, the one who spoke. She had so much courage. I could
never
do that.”

“No one is asking you to.”

She curled her toes in the grass. “If you run for office, I might have to.”

“That’s what this is about?”

“Gage, you have no idea what it was like to talk to your godfather. It made me scared.”

He threw his arms around her. “Then I won’t run. Decision made.”

“But if your dream. . . .”

“No dream I have is bigger than the one I have for us.”

“But if this is something you want, then I don’t want to be the reason you don’t do it. I just can’t give speeches about what happened to me. I can’t be some new face of child sexual abuse.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I don’t want some reporters or opponents digging into my past.”

“I’ll protect you as much as I can. I’ll probably punch anyone who brings it up.”

“My past could hurt you. It’s dark and ugly and. . . .”

“Stop,” he said, cupping her cheeks in his hands. “Running for office was my dad’s dream for me. It holds some appeal, but I’m not sure it’s the right time. I’m not sure it’ll ever be the right time. We have our babies to consider, too.”

“Our two babies,” she said, smiling.

“Angel, if you don’t want to ever publicly talk about your abuse, that’s fine. I understand that. I will do everything in my power to protect you, even if that means I don’t run.”

“But I don’t want to be the reason. I don’t want you to regret not. . . .”

“I know regret,” he said. “Regret is not looking for you longer. Regret is not kissing you that day in the Houston airport. Regret is not making love to you in the limo tonight. You are what’s important to me. The kids we’ll have one day are what’s important to me.”

Layla melted into his body, a sense of security returning. “29 days. It’s two a.m. now. 29 days until we get married.”

*

Layla stared up
at the red-brick mansion with white dormers and columns and black shutters framing the windows. There was a square park across the street. She’d walked the park many times, never realizing how close she was to Gage or his mother. He led her through the wrought iron fence enclosing the house and two oak trees.

“Is this a good idea?” Layla asked.

“Everything will be. . . .”

“Uncle G!” Connor came out of nowhere and blindsided Gage, pretending he was crushed by an NFL linebacker. Gage dusted himself off and seized the boy, tossing him in the air, catching him just before he hit the ground. “Fly me back to the house!” Gage lifted Connor on one shoulder, and the boy began to make buzzing sounds, holding out his arms and legs. “Come on, Miss Layla!”

“She doesn’t like to fly,” Gage teased.

“We won’t let anything happen,” Connor said and reached out to her. “Will we, Uncle G?” Layla smiled and took his little hand.

“Nothing that she doesn’t want to happen,” Gage said with a wink.

“Can Petey ride, too?” Connor asked.

Gage rolled his eyes then pretended to throw the walking crocodile on top of Connor. Without saying a word, the boy wiggled to get down, and Gage placed him on the ground. Gage and Layla squatted on the grass so they were eye level with Connor.

“Did Petey bite you?” Layla asked.

“No,” Connor said, his lip in a pout. “Ava and Jacob call me a baby all the time. I forgot I’m trying not to play with Petey anymore. I don’t want to be a baby.”

“You are my little man,” Gage said.

“No, I’m not! I know you don’t think he’s real, Uncle G!” Connor threw himself into Layla’s arms. “Miss Layla’s the only one who believes Petey’s real.”