Free A Father's Fight: Blake and Layla #2 (Fighting #5) by Jb Salsbury Page B

“The easiest way to do it—”
    “Layla, you’ve shown me this.” Eve’s deadpan voice calls my eyes.
“Multiple times.”
    “Oh, well then”—I click off the program—“I can show
you how to file the invoices for—”
    She groans and drops her head into her hands, fisting her thick
blond hair. “You showed me that too.” I slump back in my chair, and she swivels
hers to face me. “What’s going on?”
    “Nothing, why would you think something’s going on?” I force a
light laugh and avoid her piercing glare.
    “Why aren’t you home? We’ve been through everything I need to do
here. Things are mellow until the next fight, so why not hit maternity leave
early?” Her pinched brows and probing blue eyes attempt to read me.
    “And do what? Sleep all day?”
    “Yes, or any of the other stuff pregnant chicks do like shop for
baby shit or eat or do that nesting thing where you reorganize your house.”
    I’ve already done all that. And redone it. I push up and arrange
papers that don’t need arranging. “There’re still some things I’m sure we need
to go over like . . .” I run my eyes over the desk, even turn to peek into Cameron’s
office. “Hm . . . there’s got to be something.”
    “Layla, stop.”
    I open my mouth to protest, but learned long ago that arguing
with Eve is an auto-lose situation. “Fine.”
    She blinks down at the floor where my purse is, but quickly
brushes off whatever she’s thinking. “Look, you’re welcome to hang out as long
as you want, but you don’t have to do it teaching me stuff. We can—” Her
gaze darts back to my purse. “You gonna get that?”
    “Hm?” I pretend that I don’t hear the incessant buzzing of my
phone, even though it’s been ringing every hour since six a.m. “No, it’s
probably nothing.”
    Her eyes pull into tight slits. “How do you know that? It could
be important.”
    The phone continues to buzz. “Nah, Blake’s here. He knows where
to find me and Axelle’s in class.”
    The buzzing stops, only to start up again.
    Eve locks eyes with me, and the phone’s vibration suddenly seems
like a roar.
    “Oh for the love of God.” She grabs my purse and fishes out my
phone.
    I snag the purse back by the strap a little too eagerly, which
only tightens her stare.
    She hits the screen and puts the phone to her hear. “Hello?”
    Shit!
    Her eyes widen a little. “Yes, I’m listening.”
    Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
    I reach for the phone, but she turns and jumps up from her seat
faster than my big ole body can move.
    Dammit!
    “Yeah, go on.”
    This is it. Eve’s going to find out, tell Blake, and he’ll lose
his shit and open a whole new world of what
the fuck right before I have this baby. I can’t handle this. I don’t want
anything to do with any of this.
    Her body turns slowly, and her eyes are wide on mine. “I’m going
to have to get back to you on that.” A few beats of silence. “Okay, bye.” She
hits End and moves back into her seat, falling back hard and letting her head
drop back. “Whoa.”
    “Eve, listen, I can explain . . .” But no words come out of my
mouth.
    Her head lulls to the side. “He says he’s Axelle’s dad.” Her
voice is a whisper, and I could hug her for her discretion. Lord knows it’s not
her usual MO, but the fire of anger keeps my arms locked to my sides.
    “I figured.”
    “Do you remember him?” She’s still whispering.
    “I don’t even know his name. I haven’t been answering the calls,
and the one time I did I hung up the second I realized he . . .” I drop my head
into my hands and force back the burn of tears. I won’t cry over this. I refuse
to shed another tear. What’s done is done and it brought me my daughter. I
can’t find it in my heart to regret that.
    “His name is Trip Miller.”
    My breath freezes in my lungs. Trip? My high school crush? The
guy I went out of my way to impress, but wouldn’t give me the time of day?
    “I take it you know him?”
    I nod