Painting Rainbows

by Kiera Jayne

  “Not with cold.” Layla kissed him briefly.

  Grady's eyes twinkled with smugness. “With passion?”

  Layla tried to hold back her smile, but she couldn't contain it.

  Grady swore he could've exploded with joy. “Fucking hell, I love you.”

  Layla's mouth dropped open. “You what?”

  They stared at each other and Layla was suddenly very aware of how they were still wrapped up in each other. Literally. Even though he had slackened, Grady was still inside her and Layla didn't want him to pull out, ever.

  After a few moments, Grady’s voice came out in a hesitant whisper. “Is it okay that I love you?”

  Layla's face was a strange mixture of happiness and sadness. “There are so many things you don't know about me. Things I need to tell you.”

  “That's alright, gorgeous. You tell me whatever you need to. I can learn while I still love you.”

  “I hope so. Because I couldn't bear to lose you,” Layla said.

  “Oh, you couldn't?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why’s that, then?” he teased.

  Layla hesitated.

  “Score!”

  Layla and Grady turned their head towards the voice only to find a man with a huge camera snapping photos of them. Layla pushed Grady off her and struggled to cover herself up.

  “Holy shit, this is great! NW will pay craploads for these!”

  The guy’s Australian accent wasn't lost on Layla. How the fuck had an Aussie paparazzi found her? Those feelings she’d had . . . the inkling that someone was following her . . . Layla had been right all along. The paparazzi had been trailing her ever since the night she’d gone to dinner at Myra’s, she was sure of it. Maybe it had even begun before that. How was she to know?

  As the pap continued to snap photos, Grady charged towards him in all his naked, angry glory. “What the fuck? What's your problem, you bloody peeping tom! Don't you know how to give two people some privacy?”

  “Grady—" Layla said softly.

  The pap brazenly took a photo of Grady. “This is a public place, mate. If you choose to have sex here then you risk being caught,” the pap replied nonchalantly.

  Grady made to snatch the camera from the guy’s grip, but Layla dashed between them and pushed her boyfriend back. “Grady, stop! That's what he wants!”

  “What do you mean?” Grady demanded.

  “Just back off. Don't respond,” she ordered as she hastily pulled her clothes back on.

  The pap looked down at Layla. “How's your husband? Have you spoken to him recently?”

  Layla felt Grady tense. Her mouth fell open as she looked up at the smarmy bastard.

  “I think you've got the wrong woman, mate,” Grady replied.

  The pap laughed. “Everyone in Australia knows Layla Stroud, wife of Labor Senator, Rick Stroud.”

  When Layla caught the hurt in Grady's eyes, her chest tightened. She fought back tears as she turned towards the remains of the most romantic picnic she had ever been on. Now it was all ruined.

  She heard the camera click again. Unbelievable! Paparazzi types truly were soulless assholes. “Just piss off!” Layla shouted, spinning back to him.

  The pap laughed and shrugged. “I got what I need. This is gold. See you around, Mrs. Stroud.”

  Grady was in shock. The beautiful Aussie woman he'd just pronounced his love for was married? Married? He was sure the pap dude had it wrong. Layla was just a normal woman. A shy woman who liked to keep to herself so much so that she spent most of her time hiding in her aunt’s cottage.

  Her aunt's cottage in a quiet, out of the way village on the other side of the world. Her desire to be left alone, her continued resistance to him, her expression when he told her he loved her not moments before . . .

  Fucking hell, it was true. It was all true.

  Layla was shaking so hard and he could see her fight back tears. “We have to go.”

  “The fuck we do! What's going on, Layla? You're married?” Grady exclaimed.

  “Technically, yes,” she answered quietly.

  “What does technically mean?”

  “It means legally I am.” She held up her left hand and pointed to the diamond encrusted band on her middle finger.

  “Oh, Jesus Christ, you're still wearing his wedding ring?” Grady released a humourless laugh.

  “I'm separated, Grady. I haven't gotten around to making it final because I was hounded by the media, and every time I went anywhere near a courthouse, they'd pounce. They're the whole reason I left Australia.” She looked at him with wide eyes. “It's over, Grady.”

  “With me or him?”

  “With him!”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  Confusion flashed across Layla's face.

  “You're still getting calls from Rick. I heard you, even though you tried to hide it. You're still wearing his ring!”

  “Where else was I supposed to put it?” Layla demanded.

  “Throw it in a drawer somewhere, or you give it back to him. Something. Not this.” Grady grabbed her wrist. “This means you still love him. Somewhere inside you, you're still in love with him.”

  Defiance shone in her eyes. “That's not true.”

  “Isn't it?”

  “No.”

  “Prove it. Take it off.”

  Grady's dark eyes bored into Layla's. He watched her closely, her pretty green eyes showing him everything he needed to know. As if he needed to confirm his suspicions further, her hesitation sealed the deal. “We’re out of here, baby.”

  Layla didn't see Grady again for a week. When she asked Myra of his whereabouts, she was told that he was out of town. Layla had ruined everything. No matter what she did lately, things just didn't seem to be going well for her.

  She missed him so much she ached. Her body was lethargic, she found it hard to breathe and she couldn't stop crying. Layla had risked her heart on a man again and was hurt once more. Love wasn't worth this.

  Layla poured cereal into her bowl and went to the fridge for milk. She was out. Grumbling, Layla tossed the carton into the recycling. Come to think of it, the rest of her cupboards were fairly bare, as well. She was going to have to make a grocery run.

  Leaving the bowl of cereal on the kitchen bench, Layla tucked her feet into her ballet flats and left the cottage with her purse in hand. She started down the path towards the shops.

  “Mrs. Stroud, so glad I could catch you.” The woman who had fallen into step with her had an unmistakeable Aussie accent. “Could I get your comments on the photos that turned up in Australian Okay Magazine two days ago?”

  Layla's pace faltered. “What?”

  “You're not aware of the images that were published showing you having sex in public with another man?”

  She wasn't aware of anything because she holed herself up again after Sunday’s incident.

  “Would you mind giving me a comment in regard to that?”

  Layla suddenly noticed the recording app open on the woman's phone. “No!”

  “This will go much easier for you if you create your own spin on this. The public is even less forgiving of an adulterating woman than they are of a cheating man. This is your chance to set the record straight.”

  Layla scoffed. How dare this woman make such judgements. Who did she think she was? Layla picked up speed. “No comment!”

  When the reporter matched her pace, Layla broke into a run and dashed into the nearest store. She slammed the door behind her and locked it. Taking deep breaths, Layla slid down to the floor, buried her head in her hands, and began to cry again. She'd done so much of that lately. She was sick and tired of it.

  “Layla?”

  Layla barely acknowledged her name being spoken as her sobs grew louder.

  “Hey, hey. Shh. It's alright. What's wrong?”

  She felt arms encircle her and she was pulled against a firm chest. The spicy scent of his aftershave touched her nostrils and she buried her face in
his shirt. “I miss you,” she mumbled.

  Grady blew out a long sigh. “I miss you, too, gorgeous.”

  “This week has been so shithouse,” she sobbed.

  He didn't reply, just held her.

  “But that's life, right? Just as everything begins to go well, it all fucks up.”

  Grady didn't want to be a part of Layla's pity-party. He looked up at the door they were leaning against. “I’d better open this door for the customers.”

  “No, don't!” Layla gasped. She held onto him tightly.

  He brushed her hair out of her face and frowned at her. “Layla, what's going on?”

  “They found me.”

  “Who?” Grady asked.

  “The Australian media. The guy out by the lake was just the beginning. They'll all start to follow, now.” Layla got to her feet and began pacing back and forth. “They'll all flood in. This quiet little village will be overrun with creeps chasing after me.”

  “Why are the Australian media after you?”

  “Because my husband is a senator who married his PA and then cheated on her a year later with a visiting dignitary’s daughter,” Layla said, tears streaming down her face.

  “You were his PA?”

  Layla nodded.

  Grady wrinkled up his nose. “What made you go for a politician?”

  “I was young. I was new in Canberra and he helped me settle in. He was handsome, dignified, he had good ideas. I was . . . enamoured with him.”

  “Do you still love him? Tell me the truth, Layla,” Grady demanded.

  Layla gave the slightest nod.

  Grady pushed his hand into his hair and his fingers tugged on his short, dark hair.

  “But it doesn't matter,” Layla insisted.

  “Of course, it matters,” Grady replied.

  Layla shook her head in confusion. “Why?”

  “Because you're in love with another man, Layla. And so you should be. He's your husband.”

  “He's not. Not anymore. He ruined that, Grady. He ruined me. I didn't think I would ever fall in love again and then you came barging into the cottage and into my life and gave me confidence again. You've helped me love again. I love you, Grady.”

  A tortured sigh wracked Grady's body. “I wish you’d told me that sooner.”

  “I would've gotten to tell you sooner if that idiot hadn't interrupted us at the lake.”

  He wanted to go over and pull her into his arms and kiss her silly. Hearing her say those three little words made him feel insanely awesome. But she was another man’s wife, estranged or not. He couldn't be that man. “I can't be your rebound, Layla.”

  Layla's frown was deep as she shook her head in disbelief. He couldn't mean it. Grady couldn't pursue her like he had, make her fall for him just to rip it away like that.

  Grady opened the door again and she shied back. “You show me who's chasing you, and I'll distract her while you make your getaway.”

  That ache returned to Layla's body. He was dead serious. Grady didn't want her.

  “Come on,” Grady urged her.

  Layla cautiously approached the door. She pointed out the woman in a pant suit and her red hair piled on top of her head in a harsh bun.

  “Right. Leave her to me. You run.”

  “Thank you, Grady.”

  The words felt inadequate. The way he looked at her made her knees feel so weak.

  “You're welcome.”

  She felt his hand on her back as he pushed her out of the café and he went straight over to the reporter.

  “Layla, wait! If you'll just—" the reporter began.

  Grady blocked the woman's way. “She won't ‘just’ anything. You stay away from her, love.”

  “Excuse me, I don't think you understand the importance of this,” the reporter snapped.

  “Oh, I think I do. You ought to leave her alone.”

  Layla ran as fast as she could all the way through the village, forgetting about the groceries she'd gone out for. All she wanted to do was disappear. She couldn't stay here, couldn't subject Grady or Rosie or anyone in the village to the media circus that was sure to follow. She needed to relocate, sooner rather than later.

  A shiny silver Mercedes caught her eye as she approached the cottage, but she didn't pay it any mind until she stepped through the garden gate. There, on the garden bench in her spot, sat the sexiest politician in Australian history. His crisp, white, button-down shirt, figure-hugging black pants and black patent leather shoes made him look as delicious as ever.

  How unfair. Layla didn't want to find Rick attractive anymore. Not after what he had done. Not now that she was in love with Grady.

  Rick leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He laced his fingers together as he looked across at her. “Hi, Lay-Lay.”

  Layla's hand curled into a fist. Without a word, she stalked straight past him and marched into the cottage.

  “Layla!” Rick exclaimed.

  He dashed after her and caught the door before she could close it on him. He was the second man who had barged into her temporary home. How come she had to harbour feelings for each one?

  Rick trailed her through the living room and into the kitchen. “Layla, stop would you? Talk to me!”

  “About what, Rick? I told you I wanted to be left alone, that I didn't want to see you and you ignored me. What are you doing in England, anyway? Aren't you busy back home?”

  “I'm not busy enough to come after my wife,” Rick said.

  “Don't call me that,” Layla mumbled.

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Because I stopped being your wife when you cheated on me!” Layla shouted.

  “That was . . . She was nothing, I told you that so many times. It was a drunken mistake, that's all.”

  Layla rolled her eyes as she leaned back against the rustic timber cupboard doors. “What a load of shit. It's always something or someone else's fault. You're always putting some sort of spin on it. This isn't a campaign trail, Rick. I'm not some reporter, I'm me. Why can't you be straight with me?”

  Rick rubbed his weary eyes. “I don't mean to do that, honey. It's hard to break the habit. I know you deserve better.”

  “Damn straight.” Layla planted her fists on her hips.

  Rick stepped further into the kitchen and chuckled. “I’ve always loved your feisty side.”

  Layla scowled. “How did you find me?”

  “Your brother caved,” Rick replied.

  “Which one?”

  Rick buried his hands in his pockets and sauntered towards her. “It’s probably safer for him if I don’t specify.”

  “I bet it was Sean. The guy is so scared of you.”

  Rick squeezed his lips together.

  Layla rolled her eyes. “Fine. Then I'm going to kick both of their arses when I see them next. Kaden and Sean both knew I didn't want to see you.”

  “Is that because you've met someone else?”

  Layla's mouth dropped open. “What? I—how did you—?”

  Rick pulled a magazine out of the back of his waistband. He flattened it out and tossed it onto the kitchen table. Layla's mouth became dry. With shaky hands, she picked up the glossy publication and came face-to-face with a whole page of images of her and Grady in various states of undress. The images were blurred in all the important places, but it was obvious what the pair were up to.

  Layla sank into one of the chairs before her legs gave out underneath her. Why would Grady ever want to be with her after being outed like this?

  “You want to explain this?” Rick demanded.

  “I think it's pretty self-explanatory,” Layla mumbled. She tossed the rag to the side and buried her face in her folded arms.

  “So, what, is this bloke payback? I cheat on you and you cheat on me?” Rick asked.

  Layla looked up at him with a poisonous glare. “If that's what you think, then you don't know me at all, Rick. Not at all!”

  “Of course I do, honey. But this looks
bad. You had sex in a public area.”

  “It was in the middle of nowhere!” Layla cried.

  “Do you think people will care about that? No-one in Australia will know that. It just looks like a park, which is certainly what all the media outlets will say. We have to do damage control, Lay-Lay. Our reputations are too important,” Rick said. He pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket. “We should contact a more respectable media outlet. Preferably television. I'm thinking a feature on 60 Minutes will do.”

  “Channel 9? You're kidding, aren't you?” Layla scoffed.

  “The ABC then? Or The Project?”

  Layla got to her feet. “I'm not talking to any media outlets, Rick. I didn't do anything wrong! I had sex with the man I'm in love with. It wasn't the first time and I hope it won't be the last time.”

  “In love? With this guy?” Rick retrieved the magazine and held it up. His handsome face twisted into an incredulous expression. When Layla just stood there in defiance, Rick studied the page. “What does he have that I don't?”

  Layla snatched the magazine away from him. “Don't do this to yourself. I've moved on, okay? I was finally feeling good about my life again, and then this shit happens!” She threw the magazine into the bin and stormed out of the kitchen.

  He was in pursuit of her once again. Layla wished he would leave her alone.

  “Layla, let’s just work this out, please? We can't keep avoiding each other. Let's sit down and talk.”

  Rick looked so tired. Layla put that down to jet lag. With a pout, Layla folded her arms and stood beside her easel. “I'm not talking to the press,” she repeated.

  “But—"

  She raised a hand to cut Rick off. “Ah!”

  “Fine.”

  There was the Rick Sulk. Layla used to be suckered in by it, but now she found it annoying. An uncomfortable silence fell between them.

  “Can I make myself a coffee?” Rick asked after a few moments.

  “Go ahead.” Layla watched Rick walk into the kitchen. He looked delicious in his smart clothing. “Did you travel all the way from Canberra dressed in that monkey suit?”

  “No. I changed once I got to London. I wanted to look good for you, honey.” He went to the fridge.

  Layla shook her head. “Why?”