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

opens doors, and right now I need her to open one to a suite so I can escape from public view.
    When it’s all said and done she hands me back the card and a key to the room. I decline her offer for a personal escort and make my way to the elevators alone, scanning the lobby for any familiar face as I do until the elevator doors slide shut, concealing me inside.
    This time when I feel and hear the lock coming into place in the door behind me, I know nothing short of an axe will break it down without a key. I’m safe .
    I open the windows and terrace doors and delight in the fresh Santa Barbara air - citrus and Pacific ocean - that billows in to the room. I place an order for a fruit and cheese plate and some baked macaroni for dinner via the phone and finally sit down on the bed to relax. I think my heart has nearly receded back to its normal pace.
    I dump my purse out next to me on the bed and examine what I’ve brought with me. Two pairs of clean cotton underwear, a bottle of perfume, some deodorant, a couple tubes of lipstick and a small bottle of hand lotion. I see the phone laying face-down and swiftly pick it up, righting it so I can unlock it. Several missed calls from the house, mom’s phone, dad’s phone, and Nick. Suddenly it vibrates in my hand and I nearly drop it. A text message notification dominates the screen. It’s from Nick.
     
    Where are you?!
     
    I seethe just seeing his name. Part of me wants to reply, to tell him to leave me the hell alone and go back to wherever he came from. It vibrates again.
     
    Damnit Layla! You can’t do this. You’re scaring me. You’ve scared the shit out of your parents.
     
    I can’t do this? One day shy of being 30 years old and I’m being told what I can and cannot do like some petulant child? Forced to come face-to-face with him in my own home? My own safe, private place? It’s not just a violation, but outright treason. And from my parents no less!
    I trusted them and I thought they understood. They should have understood better than anybody. If I don’t want to see my ex-husband that is my damn prerogative. Especially after what he took away from me.
    A knock comes from the door and I have to steel myself to keep from falling apart again. The hotel employee sets my dinner down on a table and I give him a $20 tip, closing and dead-bolting the door behind him.
    One whiff of the food and I’m starving. I eat in silence, listening only to the sounds of the streets of Santa Barbara outside as I fork delicious bites of baked macaroni into my mouth. It’s still relatively early by the time I finish and I look down at the spilled contents of my purse appraisingly. Were there more time to grab my belongings I might have had the mindset to pack proper toiletries. Like makeup and toothpaste.
    Everything I own is in my childhood bedroom at my parent’s house, and Nick’s presence in that safe-house has made it the last place on Earth I want to visit. I need a plan. I can’t live at the Canary Hotel forever, especially not at $500+ a night. My admittedly inflated bank account would not support such a lifestyle indefinitely.
    For now I decide I need just enough to get me through the night, and maybe a couple days more. Clothes I can buy tomorrow. Toiletries I can buy tonight. I pick up my phone to find the closest 24-hour drugstore and see an unread text waiting on the screen.
     
    I hope you’re safe. Text or call me if you need help. Please. I’ll be here.
     
    I unlock the screen and bypass the text message, searching for a store instead. I find one and commit the address to memory. Purse, phone and keys in hand I leave, feeling moderately safer than when I left my own home.
    Out in the hallway I push the button for the elevator and wait patiently. As I do another text vibrates my phone, and I don’t need to guess who it’s from.
     
    Checked in downtown. The Canary Hotel. Please tell me you’re okay, Layla.
     
    I barely have time to register panic before