13. CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 13
“ D id you always want to be a doctor?” Taylor asked as he lifted up his pint and took a sip.
Clara giggled when she noticed him grimace as some of the beard, aka face ferret, went into his mouth before she replied, “Yeah. Kind of. I did as a kid, although I had no idea what it would really be like.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“Sort of,” Clara hesitated, taking a swig of her drink as she recalled all her bad days. The sleep deprivation, the exams, and all the things she missed out on in her twenties as she was at work.
Her mind strayed to Jack; if she hadn’t gone to medical school, she would never have met him, and her life would have been a lot different from how it had turned out. Thirty-five, working a well-paying job, and still completely broke as she paid off someone else’s debt.
Before she finally said, “Some days it’s great, but it’s not an easy life. I’m not sure I would have done medicine if I’d known what it was like.”
“Was it worth it?”
Clara looked thoughtfully at him and thought about her life and her work. A little voice told her if she hadn’t done medicine, she wouldn’t be sitting in the pub with Taylor Anderson, but she shushed that ridiculous voice before she answered him.
“Yeah. I think it probably was. I’ve got a good job, that’s interesting, and I enjoy. I’m well paid, and when I get my debt sorted, I think life will be pretty great.” It felt so strange to talk openly about her debt. “So, yeah. Despite everything, the bad bits, the hard work. I think it was worth it.”
“Why do you have so much debt?”
Clara shook her head, and her eyes widened; it was a big step for her to even mention the debt.
“Never mind. That’s none of my business.” He looked away from her, taking a sip of his pint.
“Do you mind if we change the subject? Tell me about acting.” Clara met his eyes, holding them until he nodded.
“Acting is everything I expected and equally not what I expected,” Taylor explained.
“Acting wasn’t what you expected?” Clara was grateful for the change in topic; she didn’t know what it was about Taylor, but he now knew more about her financial problems than her best friend did.
Taylor shook his head, saying, “The acting is fun. I enjoy it so much. I get a thrill every time I go to set and do my best to convince an audience that I’m the character I’ve been employed to play.”
“So what’s wrong with it?”
“The fame. Fame is weird. All these people falling over themselves to talk to me. To get a piece of me because of the job I do.” His eyes took on a far-off look. “I’ve been chased by more paparazzi than I care to remember. Been set up, trying to get a reaction out of me for that perfect photo of me looking angry, stupid, fat, awful. Any of the above, depending on what story they want to run.”
“That doesn’t sound great.”
“No. You develop a sixth sense, always looking over your shoulder. Even then, you can sometimes get it wrong, and they get the photo they want.” He sighed, pulled his phone out of his pocket, typed something, and handed it to Clara.
She glanced down at the picture on the screen, and her hand flew to her mouth to stop the laugh that was about to escape, and she sputtered, “What, how?”
The picture was Taylor on a beach in only his shorts; he had a hot dog in one hand, and looking at his stomach, there wasn’t a six-pack in sight, and there were some very, very interesting tan lines crisscrossing his body.
“Far too much beer and hot dogs, a very ill-advised shirt on a day out on a friend’s boat, and a very long lens, so I had no idea the photographer was there, and I was very relaxed. I understand these pictures are funny and real-life, but it’s exhausting to always be on guard as you lose jobs if too many of these photos and stories hit the press,” he complained, then leaned forward, grabbed a chip, put it in his mouth, and chewed.
“That sounds stressful.”
“It’s the worst part of the job. Although the perks are incredible. I paid off my mom’s mortgage and bought myself a house outright. And I’ll never have to worry about money again.” He shrugged and grabbed another chip.
“But she doesn’t live in the house you paid for. You said she lived in your house?” Clara reached out and took a chip, blowing on it before she put it into her mouth.
For a moment, she thought his eyes had strayed to her lips, which was ridiculous; shaking herself, she refocused on the conversation.
Taylor nodded, answering wryly, “Yes, she lives in my house.”
“Why doesn’t she sell her house?”
“Because then she would really live with me. She currently maintains she’s just on holiday,” Taylor drawled, waving his hand in the air.
“And I’m guessing she acts like she’s on holiday?” Clara giggled.
“Oh yes. Mom swans around the house in her mumu’s, having a wonderful time.” His waving got bigger as he conveyed a woman wafting around in a long dress.
“What’s a mumu?” Clara queried, “And you don’t mind?” she added.
“It’s one of those floaty dress things that you can put over anything or wear as pyjamas, and no one will notice,” Taylor explained. He took a sip of his drink, then grabbed his phone off the table, opened up the photo app, scrolled through until he found the one he wanted and showed it to her. “This is my mum, Gloria. And this is her favourite mumu.”
Clara laughed when she saw the picture of a well-put-together lady in her sixties wearing a beautiful, expensive-looking, flowing dress. She had a perfectly highlighted blonde bob and eyes identical to her son. In one hand, she clutched a glass of champagne as she relaxed in front of a pool.
“Is that your pool? It looks fabulous.”
“Yeah. That’s Mom’s favourite chair. You can just about see in the background the pool house that she’s taken over. And I don’t mind her relaxing now and living off me. We weren’t a rich family when I was growing up; she worked hard after Dad left.”
“I’m sorry,” Clara murmured, reaching out and putting her hand on his arm.
“I’m not. I didn’t really know him. I was only four when he left, and he died when I was ten.” His eyes took on a far-off look as he remembered his past.
“I’m so sorry.” She squeezed his hand.
“He wasn’t a nice man.” Taylor hesitated, shaking his head before saying, “Mom protected me from him. He used to come to the house drunk and shouting that it was his right to see his son. She never let him; she spent a fortune on lawyers, money she didn’t have, to keep him away from me. And for that, I will forever be grateful.”
“Shit,” Clara swore, leaning toward him.
“I—I—“ he stuttered. “No one knows that. Please don’t—”
Clara jumped in, “You know I won’t.”
“I know,” he said, staring into her eyes.
Holding his gaze, the background noise faded until they could have been the only ones in the pub. “She sounds amazing.” Clara couldn’t look away from him or take her hand off his arm, where electricity rippled up her fingers.
“She did her absolute best for me. She made sure I got to do all the things I wanted. Sports and acting classes when I showed interest and talent. She’s been my biggest supporter, so now I’m just paying her back.” A soft smile crossed his face.
“That’s nice,” Clara murmured, and she felt herself getting breathless the longer their eyes were locked.
“Yeah. And by the time I get home, she’ll have spent every day entertaining the mothers of the movie stars at my house and drunk all my good wine,” Taylor sighed in exasperation, but his lips quirked up into a smile.
“The what now?” Clara sputtered, her laughter breaking the tension.
Did he feel that too? Or was it just her? She leaned away, gently pulling her hand back and giving her attention to her plate as she picked up a chip to eat.
“She’s started a club. Every time we go to a premiere, which, by the way, she always has to come to. She finds out if any other parents are there and gets their phone numbers. She now has a club of women she meets with multiple times a week, where they compare stories about their famous children,” Taylor groaned, then picked his burger up off his plate and took a huge bite.
“And drink your good wine?”
He chewed for a minute before he answered, “And drink my good wine and empty my fridge of all the nice food I ever buy.”
“I thought you didn’t get to eat nice food?” she teased, keeping her tone light, even as she internally tried to slow her racing heart.
He was too close to her; she couldn’t think. She needed to put some space between them but couldn’t bring herself to move.
“I don’t, but I’d like to have the option,” he grumbled, taking another bite of the burger with great relish.
Taylor looked so affronted that Clara burst out laughing.
“Sorry.” She brought her free hand up to cover her mouth, giggling through her fingers, “Your mum sounds fun.”
“She is now. She was strict as hell when I was a kid. I couldn’t get away with anything, and now I’ve had to witness her doing the drunken can-can. It’s not where I thought I would be in my thirties,” he complained, rolling his eyes. However, the softness around them betrayed his love and affection for his mum.
“Where did you think you would be?” Clara tried to stop herself from thinking about where she thought she would be at thirty-five.
Once she met Jack, she thought she would be living in a comfortable house, married, and maybe even with a kid. Not single, working all hours of the day and night to pay off the debts of a man who turned out to be a cheating bastard.
“In all honesty. Not where I am now. I always hoped for success, but I knew it was a long shot. Unless you know someone in the business, it’s hard to break into it. I figured if I was lucky, I would get a few bit parts, and if I was really lucky, I’d get a series regular. And if the worst came to the worst, I thought I’d fall back on my degree in finance. Maybe get a job in the city, regular nine until five. A house in the suburbs, a wife, a couple of kids, and some dogs. You know, the American Dream.”
Clara desperately wanted to comment on his desire for a family, but she stopped herself because it felt too intimate when she had only known him for a few days, so she picked a safe topic.
“You’ve got a degree in finance?”
“Yeah. Mum insisted I do it. She supported me through university so I could attend auditions while I studied, and she supported me when I took a year off to film my first lead role in a television series. But she insisted that I had to finish my degree. That ‘show biz’,” he used air quotes, “might not be a stable career.”
Clara shrugged. “Turns out she was very wrong!”
“Yeah, but statistically speaking, she wasn’t wrong. The chances of me being in the position I am now were incredibly small.”
Clara picked up her drink and held it out to him, toasting, “Here’s to statistics.” Before she added, “I bloody hated that part of my degree.”
Taylor clinked their glasses and reached down to entwine his fingers with hers.
Clara swallowed a couple of times. Her cheeks flushed bright red, and she thought she should pull her hand away, as all this did was give her ideas about a relationship that would never happen.
He was leaving tomorrow, and she would never see him again. She amended: She would see him again—on posters in the streets and on the television, but never again in person.
She closed her eyes, and for just a second, she imagined what it would be like if Taylor did stay in her life and maybe become someone important to her.
She quickly threw that thought away. She couldn’t imagine herself being on his arm, going to a premiere or out to a restaurant with the paparazzi trying to take photos of Taylor. She could only picture him with someone glamorous, with movie star looks to equal his.
Not someone who hadn’t been to the hairdresser in four years. Whose makeup skills left a lot to be desired and someone whose idea of dressing up was jeans and a fancy t-shirt, not an outfit that could grace the cover of a Vogue magazine.
“What about you?”
“What?” Clara had lost track of the conversation with her internal musings.
“Do you have a family? Parents? Boyfriend?” Taylor said as his thumb brushed over the palm of her hand.
“No boyfriend. My ex was enough to put me off men for a long time.”
“What did he do?” Taylor’s thumb swiped over her palm again.
Clara kept her voice breezy, “Oh, you know, the usual. Cheated on me and swanned off and married a twenty-three-year-old. Yeah, he was a total treasure.”
“Ouch.” Taylor winced but didn’t pry, letting her lead the conversation.
“Ouch indeed. He was cut from the same cloth as your ex,” Clara muttered and took a big swig of her drink, trying to wash away the bitter taste that flooded her mouth when she thought too much about Jack.
“Yup, she really put me off trusting women.” Taylor’s tone was light; however, even being the skilled actor he was, the hurt still bled through in his voice.
“It must be hard to meet people when you’re the most famous face in the world. Well, as long as you don’t have the ferret stuck on.” She grinned, reaching her hand up and stroking it over his glued-on beard.
He caught hold of her hand, and for a heartbeat, she thought he was going to kiss her palm as she felt his breath on her fingers.
She gently tugged her hand back, her eyes catching on his, before she dropped hers to their entwined fingers that had been tangled together for the last few minutes.
“Taylor, I—“
He cut her off. “I know. I’m leaving tomorrow.”
Clara nodded, whispering, “Yeah. And we live very different lives.”
“I know. But it’s the first time in a long time I’ve met someone who sees me and not the image of me that you see on screen. Everyone thinks that’s the person they’re going to meet.”
“That’s not you?” She squeezed his hand.
“It is, and it isn’t. I am way cooler in my movies.” He chuckled, but looking at his eyes, she could see no humour in them. “Clara, I want to see—“
He trailed off when Clara shook her head at him; she couldn’t let him say anything that might make her treacherous heart skip any more beats than it already was.
“Clara, we could meet—“ he tried again, breaking off when she shook her head.
Closing his eyes for a long moment, he eventually angled his body more to face her and, to Clara’s relief, changed the subject from what she had been so afraid of but so hopeful of at the same time.
“Anyway, I feel I’ve spent far too long sounding like a narcissist who only wants to talk about themselves. Shall we trash your horrible ex for a while?” Taylor said, a broad conspiratorial smile breaking over his face.
Clara was about to say no. Since she had split up with Jack, she hadn’t spoken about him to anyone. Her mum asked and was concerned about her daughter’s wellbeing, but Clara had avoided the subject and initially told her parents that the break up was mutual and they had grown apart. And now, when articles about Jack were in OK and Hello magazine, her mum would tell Clara all about the latest wonderful things happening in Jack’s life.
She knew her mum wasn’t trying to be cruel; she was just excited about knowing someone in a magazine. But it meant she only spoke to her mum every few weeks, not wanting to hear the latest version of ‘what Jack had done’. This was always followed by a musing of her mum’s inability to work out how Clara could have split up with such a nice young man.
When she was finally ready to talk and tried to tell her mum that Jack had cheated on her, her mum said that she must be mistaken and that he wouldn’t do that to Clara. Jack was that good at showing other people what they wanted to see, and her parents believed he was a good man.
So she hadn’t told her parents he was where the bruises they had noticed whenever they visited Clara and Jack came from. And that she hadn’t knocked herself on the door, fallen off her bike—the one she had sold to pay back some of Jack’s debt—stumbled while hiking, or one of the many excuses she had used over the years to explain where all her injuries came from.
Breathing deeply, she realised that it was the first time in a long time she felt strong enough, brave enough to talk about Jack, obviously not about everything, but it would be nice to be rude about the man who had ruined her life.
Glancing down at their entwined fingers, she wondered if that was where her courage came from. Then her eyes strayed to her nearly empty pint, and she realised that alcohol was the more likely answer.
“Yeah, we should,” Clara said with determination. “He was a total shithead.”
“As bad as the girl who attacked herself?”
“Yeah. Although he preferred to attack me.” The words were out before she could stop them.
Taylor’s fingers tightened on hers as he asked quietly, steel in his voice. “He hit you?”
“Oh, shit. I, umm, no, well, I mean,” Clara faltered and tried to pull her hand away from Taylor’s.
She couldn’t believe what she had just said and wanted to run. She wanted to slag off her ex, not admit she had been a victim of domestic violence.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Taylor’s voice was barely above a whisper.
Clara shook her head, trying to blink back the tears that had sprung into her eyes. “No.”
“Okay.” He nodded. “Nothing heavy, but shall we still trash him? Or shall we change the subject?”
Clara brought her hand up to brush away the tears welling in her eyes before saying, “Yeah. I desperately want to slag him off. He was very good at pulling the wool over people’s eyes. Most people thought he was fantastic and such a catch. But he wasn’t.”
“Shithead?”
“Total shithead.” Clara agreed.
She looked down at the hand he still held and the scar that his finger ran over. The place she had needed to have stitches because she had ‘fallen’ while she had been holding a glass. Although she wouldn’t have fallen if Jack hadn’t shoved her, then trodden on her hand to make sure the glass pushed into her palm. He had left her bleeding on the floor for a few minutes, then obviously decided he had punished her enough and began acting like a doting boyfriend.
Clara pulled her phone out of her pocket. “This is his latest spread in Hello magazine.” She went to her mum’s texts, clicked on the link, and handed the phone to Taylor.
Reading aloud, he said, “Keeping up with the Jones’s. Today, we’re touring Jack and Natalia Jones’s beautiful waterfront mansion.” Taylor made a face and carried on reading. “We at Hello magazine are lucky to be talking with Doctor Jack Jones, Medical Doctor, entrepreneur, innovator, artist and philanthropist and his beautiful wife Natalia Jones, model, influencer, and vice-president of Green-care, her family’s multi-billion dollar company, currently headed by her father, Billionaire Sergei Petrovich.” Dropping the phone, Taylor met her eyes, “He married an heiress?”
“Yup,” Clara confirmed, not letting her gaze fall from his, however much she wanted to let them drop with embarrassment at how easily Jack had taken advantage of her.
“So this shithead. I’m guessing he’s the cause of your mountain of debt?”
She took a couple of deep breaths, surprised at how perceptive Taylor was, then blurted, “Yeah. I can only blame myself. I didn’t notice him do it, and I signed things for him that I should have read.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.”
Clara’s eyebrow rose. “You only met me this week.”
“I know, but you’re so measured in everything you do. How did he trick you into signing things you didn’t read?” His voice was gentle.
“I was so tired. He wasn’t working, I was supporting both of us while I tried to keep up with his spending. I was working all hours. I didn’t notice when he signed me up for several high-interest-rate credit cards. Although, I did know about the car he bought.
“He insisted he needed a Jeep, and as he wasn’t working, the loan was taken out in my name, but the title was in his name. So, his car and my debt. I can only blame myself for that one. I should have said no, but I did it to please him,” Clara sighed, staring down at her lap, unable to meet his eyes, but she was surprised at how easy it was to tell him these things when she had never been able to tell anyone else.
“He told me that a Jeep would help his mental state and that he would stop threatening to hurt himself as it would bring pleasure to his life.” She laughed bitterly. “The irony is, he never hurt himself, not once. Me, on the other hand—“ Clara shrugged, “he didn’t seem to feel bad about hurting.”
“Clara, I’m so sorry.” Taylor shook his head.
“It’s not your fault. I should have left him. In hindsight, I want to scream at the idiot woman who stayed for so long. But for every nasty thing he did, he would follow it with a period of being so loving that I would kid myself into thinking he had changed, and things would go back to how they used to be.”
She now knew he was ‘love bombing’ her, keeping her close to him, even when he was so awful to her.
“Was he nice to you at first?” Taylor squeezed her hand tighter.
His thumb massaging the palm of her hand in small, soothing circles, calmed her mind as she spoke. “He was amazing. He was kind and loving; nothing was too much trouble. He would spoil me with small gifts, nothing expensive as neither of us had much money, but they were always so thoughtful. I can’t even remember any more when it all changed. I don’t know. I guess I thought that the mean, nasty man was an aberration and the true Jack would come back, if only I didn’t upset him, if I let him go on expensive retreats that I funded, if I took the stress of everything so he would be able to relax.”
Clara laughed bitterly, squeezing her eyes closed, barely aware any more of who was sitting beside her.
“Did the good man ever come back?” Taylor murmured.
“No,” Clara said flatly. “He used high-interest rate credit cards, in my name, to buy things for Natalia. When I went through them, he was buying her flowers, jewellery, and nights away in hotels on days he claimed to be staying with his parents. I paid for him to woo the woman he left me for.”
“Fuck. He’s more than a shithead.”
“Yeah. I held out hope until the bitter end that he wasn’t a total shithead, I even phoned him six months after he left when I worked out exactly how much he had spent, and I requested the money to cover the debts he ran up. Do you know what he did?” Clara’s voice rose, and she felt sick when she remembered the words and tone of Jack’s reply.
“No,” Taylor whispered.
“He laughed at me, laughed and laughed, and then told me if I ever contacted him again, I would hear from Natalia’s lawyers. Then, they were married within a year. I debated trying again, but I didn’t have the money for a lawyer; my head was barely above water.” And there it was, she had finally said all the things she wished she had told someone when they were happening and hadn’t felt able to.
“What did you do?” His voice was edged with steel.
Clara glanced sharply at Taylor when she heard the growl in his voice. “I consolidated the debt and vowed to pay it off in four years so I could move forward with my life and never have to think about Jack again.”
“How much does he owe you?”
Clara smiled ruefully, huffing, “Somewhere north of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, the interest has been a killer.”
“Ouch.” Taylor winced.
“Yeah. I’m sure her dad wouldn’t have let her marry him if he had debts, so he made sure they were all mine. I even paid for their engagement ring,” she glowered.
Clara had phoned the jewellery shop and asked what one hundred thousand dollars had been spent on. They had initially been reticent to tell her. However, she had sent proof over that she was the primary account holder and spun them a sob story about a cheating partner and wanting to know what he had bought as she didn’t think he had given it to her. To be honest, it wasn’t a sob story; it was the truth.
“Are you kidding?” Taylor sputtered.
“Nope.” She pulled her hand free and picked her phone up from where she had placed it on the table. “Hang on.” A quick Google search was all it took to find Natalia’s ring. “Here you go.” Clara handed the phone over again.
“It’s, umm, well, it’s something,” Taylor said, zooming in on the ring. “I mean, it’s big.”
“Gaudy?” Clara suggested.
She hated how flashy it was with its two-carat diamond and multiple stones set around it to make it look even bigger.
“Yeah, it is a bit. What would you pick if it was for you?” Taylor didn’t return her phone; instead, he pulled up the Tiffany website and handed it to her.
“What?” Puzzled, Clara took her phone and looked at the screen, which was open to a page of engagement rings.
“If you could choose one ring, which would it be? Money is no issue,” he repeated, tapping on the screen.
“Weirdo. I’m not picking out an engagement ring,” Clara huffed and closed the web browser, shaking her head.
Taylor shrugged but didn’t ask again, instead saying, “Did you speak to the credit card company?”
“Yeah. My account, my debt. I signed everything to give Jack an authorised card, so I can’t claim it was stolen,” Clara groaned.
She had spent a long time wishing she hadn’t given him a card.
“Shit,” Taylor cursed.
“Shit indeed. You know what? I don’t want to talk about him anymore. It didn’t make me feel better. In fact, it just made me feel worse.” Clara leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes, afraid that tears would spring into them again. She shouldn’t have spoken about Jack; that was a massive mistake. “Sorry. I thought I wanted to slag him off.”
Taylor’s arm snaked around her shoulder, tugging her into his side. “No. I shouldn’t have asked. Are you okay?”
Clara leaned into him and shook her head, muttering, “Just give me a minute. I’ll be fine.”
“Take your time,” he soothed, hugging her tighter.
Clara sat there quietly, letting her upset settle down, gradually remembering whose arm she was tucked under and whose hard chest she was snuggled against. All thoughts of Jack vanished. Her heart rate increased, and her cheeks flushed. She tried to pull away from Taylor, but he didn’t let her.
“Just for the record. Your ex is an enormous shithead, and you deserve far, far better.”
“I could hardly do worse.” She laughed.
Clara started when Taylor’s phone rang. She tried to pull away from him, but he clutched her tighter and pulled his phone out.
Glancing down at the screen, he groaned, “It’s my manager. I need to take this.”
“That’s okay. I’ll just—“ She tried to pull away again, and he kept a firm hold on her.
“Stay.” He turned to look at her, staring into her eyes.
“Alright,” she whispered, settling back into his arms.
Taylor answered his call. “Hi, Ken. How are you doing?”
Clara tried not to listen but was four inches away from the phone and could hear everything.
“Bad weather’s closing in on the Antarctic. We need to move fast to get you there, or we won’t be able to fly for another two weeks, and that won’t work with your schedule,” Ken told him.
“When do I need to leave?” Taylor’s arm flexed around her shoulder.
“Now. I’ve got your location from your phone. I’ve got a helicopter en route to you. I’ll text you the landing address,” Ken informed him.
“I’ve got a hire car,” Taylor replied.
“I’ll sort it out. Just get yourself to the helicopter. We need to get you in the air.” Ken’s tone didn’t allow for any argument.
“How long have I got?” Taylor’s gaze dropped to Clara.
“They’re landing in twenty minutes. I need you on that chopper,” Ken said.
“No problem. I’ll be there,” Taylor confirmed and hung up. A moment later, a text arrived. He read it before asking, “Do you know where Marsden Park is?”
“Yeah. It’s a couple of blocks away. It’s a five-minute walk.” Clara said, reaching out to her drink and taking another sip.
“So, I’ve got to go,” Taylor muttered but didn’t make any move to leave.
“Yeah. You should,” Clara replied and didn’t move either.
The silence stretched between them, but Taylor stayed holding onto her.
He finally huffed a huge sigh. “I’ll text you.”
“Taylor. Let’s be realistic. You’re a lovely guy. But your life is very, very different to mine. I’ve enjoyed spending time with you. But don’t feel you need to text me.” Clara shook her head.
“I’ll text you,” he said more firmly.
“You should go.” Clara took her free hand and pushed gently against his chest.
“I know. Walk with me,” Taylor requested, staring at her, hope sparking in his eyes.
Clara nodded, letting him draw her to her feet and tuck her back against his side. It felt only natural to sling her arm around his waist, and they walked in silence out of the pub.
Until Taylor said, “Clara, this has been one of the best weeks I’ve had in a long time.”
Clara laughed. “Maybe you should have done medicine and not finance.”
“You know it’s nothing to do with the medicine. I, I just, I’d like to see you again. Take you on a proper date, one not cut short by a helicopter. I like you, I…” Taylor trailed off and pulled her to a stop, looking down at her.
For a minute, Clara’s heart soared, then she quickly pushed it back down. Taylor wouldn’t be coming back to her town to take her on a date, and the hope that he might would drive her mad.
So instead of saying one of the million things she wished she was brave enough to say, she said, “Taylor, we both know that’s not going to happen. You’re going back to your real life and I’m staying in mine. You won’t ever set foot in this town again.”
“I will. I promise I’ll come and—“ Taylor tried again, and Clara cut him off by lifting a hand up to his mouth, gently placing her fingers over it, and shaking her head.
“Taylor, please don’t. I’m still held together by sticky tape. It’ll rip so easily if you make promises to me and they don’t happen. So don’t promise me anything,” she said fiercely.
He pulled her hand away from his mouth. “I—“
“I mean it, don’t promise me anything.”
“Okay,” he finally agreed, and they didn’t speak again until they got to the park, where the helicopter was already waiting for him.
Taylor pulled her into his chest and hugged her tightly, his head dropping down to lean against the top of hers.
“I’m glad I met you,” he whispered into her hair.
“Me too,” she murmured back.
“Mr Anderson.” A voice called from the helicopter. “We need to get in the air, or we’ll miss your connection.”
Taylor pulled his head up and shouted back. “I’m coming.”
Clara tried to pull back from him. “Taylor, you have to go.”
“I know. But I don’t want to. I want to—“
Clara interrupted him. “No promises.”
She felt Taylor nod and he finally released her, stepping back. He made eye contact with her one last time, a smile splitting his face while he stared at her before he turned around and walked away.