LAYLA'S POV
“Thank you, Nicholas,” I call out, rushing into the kitchen to drop the dirty dishes.
There’s no time to wash them because I woke up late and he refused to let me leave without eating first, which is kind but also deeply inconvenient.
I grab my bag and sprint for the door just as Edward pulls it open to step out.
We haven’t spoken since he indirectly called me a book rat with no social life. I have not forgotten. But I’m also not above swallowing that particular grievance right now because he has a bike and I am late.
We’re barely out the door when he suddenly stops midstep and I almost walk straight into his back.
“What’s—” I step around him and then my eyes widen.
Eliot is parked right in front of the lodge, sitting on a bike with a smile that has absolutely no busi
