17
Layla
“Something smells yummy.” I shut the front door, take off my jacket and place my bag on the floor of the foyer.
Redoing a scene today where I’m stuck in the back of the smallest car ever has left my back aching. On the way to the kitchen to find out what’s baking, I stop to try to c***k my back a few times.
A smile graces my lips the minute I step into the sweet-smelling space. There’s flour on the floor, sugar in Vance’s hair, a broken egg on the counter.
“Is there actually something baking, or did you just spread everything around?”
Vance turns from the oven, and I’m sucker-punched by the magnitude of his smile, as if he’s waited all day to see me. He points to the hallway and glances to the family room. There are the kids, Payne on his stomach watching a cartoon and Via l
