Chapter 83 Haylee’s apartment

Chapter 83 Haylee’s apartment
Kayla’s POV

Haylee’s apartment in Los Angeles smelled like warm butter and expensive candles. It was a cozy penthouse with high ceilings and glass walls that overlooked the city. 

The curtains were halfway drawn to soften the light, making the entire place feel warm and celebratory. Haylee was in the middle of the dining area, sleeves rolled up, hair tied in a messy bun, giving orders like a general on a mission.

“Move that platter to the left. No, not that left. The other left,” she shouted, pointing at one of our friends.

The poor girl looked confused and adjusted the platter twice before Haylee approved it. The dining table was long and elegant, already set with expensive flatware that looked like it belonged in a royal mansion. Saucers, wine glasses, napkins, candles, and tiny gold decorations filled every inch of the surface. 

We were preparing a full gourmet dinner setup for Haylee and her husband, Thomas. He was currently in France for business, and according to Haylee, he was supposed to arrive the following evening.

Haylee ran from the kitchen to the dining area again. She carried a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries and gently placed them at the center.

“Careful with that,” she warned. “Those are his favorite.”

I smiled faintly as I sprinkled some finishing salt over a tray of steak bites. I had not cooked anything complicated in a while, but Haylee loved when everyone helped.

One of the girls groaned as she arranged napkins. “Haylee, girl, why did we not just hire a professional for this entire thing? This is too much work.”

Haylee whipped around, eyes wide. “Because they will not get it right. Thomas likes specific things. The steak must be medium rare, not dry. The strawberries must be Belgian. The candles must not smell like vanilla. He hates vanilla. And the napkins must be folded triangularly because it makes him laugh.”

The three of us stared at her. She sighed dramatically.

“Besides, this is an act of love. I want to welcome him home with something personal. He can tell when something is done by me.”

I chuckled under my breath. That was exactly why we were here. Not for perfection, but because she wanted to make him feel loved. It was strange how far love could make someone go. As I watched her fuss over the candle holders, I wondered silently if I would ever love someone the way she loved Thomas.

Haylee grabbed a bottle of balsamic glaze and handed it to me.

“Kayla, drizzle this over the roasted tomatoes. Thin line only. If you flood them, I will scream.”

“Noted,” I replied.

While we worked, Haylee talked without stopping.

“You guys remember how Thomas and I met, right?” she asked, placing fresh rosemary on roasted chicken.

One of the girls nodded. “At that masquerade ball.”

I remembered it clearly. It had been a big charity event a year ago. Everyone wore masks and expensive gowns. Haylee had worn a deep red dress with a silver mask. I had warned her not to talk to random men and two hours later she was slowly dancing with Thomas in a corner like a heroine in a romance novel. Of course I remembered.

Haylee sighed dreamily. “He asked me to dance. I did not even know his name. He called me Cinderella and said he wanted to be my prince.”

One of the girls laughed. “That was so cheesy.”

“Yes, but it worked,” Haylee shot back. “And now look at us. Married and happy.”

The other girl took a sip of water and leaned against the wall. “I met my boyfriend at a tech seminar. He carried my laptop when it was about to fall. I knew right away he was The One.”

They began to share their love stories. One talked about meeting hers through her aunt. The other said her boyfriend confessed to her in the rain like a movie scene. It was all very cute. I tried to smile along but I could feel the awkwardness sinking into my bones. They had love. They had certainty. Meanwhile I could not even sort out how I felt about Steven or Ashton. The silence from my side grew noticeable for a moment, but then Haylee changed the topic.

“Okay break time,” the girl who asked about hiring professionals complained. She wiped sweat from her forehead. “My back hurts. I need water. I need rest. I need Jesus.”

“We are almost done,” Haylee argued. “No break.”

“Break!” the girl insisted dramatically.

The other friend joined her. “Break! We revolt.”

Haylee rolled her eyes. “Fine. Five minutes.”

We were still arguing about whether the break was deserved or not when the front door opened behind us. Someone stepped inside and closed the door quietly. The room froze.

Thomas stood there in a dark blue suit, holding a suitcase in his right hand. He looked tired, like someone who had spent twelve hours in airports, but there was also confusion in his eyes as he looked at the table, then at us.

“Thomas?” Haylee gasped. “You are home.”

He blinked. “Yes. I thought I would surprise you. The meetings ended early.”

Haylee stared at him like he had just ruined Christmas.

“But you were supposed to come tomorrow evening,” she said a little too loudly. “Why are you here now? You ruined it.”

He stepped forward slowly. “Ruined what?”

Haylee threw her hands in the air. “Your birthday surprise. We were preparing everything for tomorrow and now it is ruined because you are here.”

Thomas looked down at the decorated table, the candles, the food, the flowers, the strawberries, and then at the four women staring at him. His expression softened and a slow smile grew on his lips.

“You all did this for me?” he asked.

Haylee crossed her arms and pouted. “Yes. And now it is ruined.”

Thomas set his suitcase down and pulled her into his arms. “Nothing is ruined. We can have the dinner now. It looks beautiful. You look beautiful. I am happy to be home.”

She melted instantly. We all smiled as the two of them hugged. It was sweet and warm and so painfully genuine. I felt something twist in my chest. Bittersweetness. That was the only word for it.

We decided to give them privacy and moved to the lounge area. The four of us sat on plush couches and opened bottles of wine. The lighting was soft and music played from the speakers, something slow and romantic. We clinked glasses and tried to lighten the mood again.

The girl who complained earlier turned to me out of nowhere.

“So Kayla, now that Adrian is in jail, what is your next move? I heard about you and Ashton Ward. But I do not know if that is a good idea since he is a Ward and all that.”

I stiffened. The other friend immediately argued.

“They are not the same men. You cannot compare Adrian with Ashton.”

“Still,” the first one insisted. “It is risky since they are cousins. And then there is the other guy, Steven. Honestly girl, you have options but I do not know if either is safe.”

Their voices sounded like pressure and judgement. Something inside me snapped quietly. I put my glass down and stood up.

“I need some air,” I said simply.

They stared at me but did not follow. I walked out to the poolside balcony. The night air was cool, brushing against my skin. The pool reflected the lights of the city and I stared at it without moving.

Why was I like this? Why could I not make a decision? Why did the idea of choosing feel like a trap? I wanted love but I also wanted caution. Steven made me feel protected but sometimes distant. Ashton made me feel seen but also scared of repeating history with a Ward. I wanted both. I wanted neither. My chest ached with frustration.

I leaned against the railing and whispered to myself. “Get it together. Stop letting people confuse you.”

My phone rang inside my pocket. I pulled it out and checked the screen.

It was the commissioner of police.

My stomach tightened as I answered. “Hello?”

His voice was serious and heavy. “Miss Kayla. I apologize for calling at this hour but I have important news.”

My heart dropped slowly. “What happened?”

There was a moment of silence before he spoke.

“It is about your private investigator, Mr Harris. He is dead.”

The world around me stopped moving.