Chapter 4
Charlotte
Taysom Reed is here—in a crisp, medium-blue blazer, fitted white shirt, and khaki pants that mold to his thighs like they have opinions about leg day.
His bright, blue eyes, dark hair, and large, toned, all grown-up self is just right here.
I squeeze my arms to my sides, and my mind zips to the past and the future.
Did I miss something? Did he have a kid and is said kid getting treatment here at the Early Childhood Center?
How did I miss he had a kid? I don’t try to actively seek out the tea on Taysom, but it’s hard to avoid. He is the city’s star.
And he’s my brother’s best friend. Kyle is notorious for not keeping me in the loop about…well, most things.
Also, I really hate whoever Taysom’s baby mama is.
“Well, Taysom Reed…” I will my voice to not sound so syrupy, so flirty, but I’m not doing an excellent job of controlling myself. I’m blaming it on dehydration—and
that I just lost my job.
Well, I will lose my job in two months.
I didn’t know Willa followed me, but she’s now by my side. She tosses me a look because I never use that voice. I sound like an imposter of myself.
I clear my throat. “How are things?” My arms, at all costs, must stay pasted to my sides. This man cannot see the veritable fountain leaking under there. I promise I wear anti-perspirant!
Taysom’s smile—all bright and sunny and warm—lights my insides on fire. Which is inconvenient and stupid and dumb.
Behind him, a guy in a suit and a woman holding bags of equipment on both shoulders nonchalantly enter the room.
What is happening here?
“Charlotte Mercer.” His gaze takes me in. “How are you?” His hands fidget before reaching out to give me a side hug. The muscles in his forearms ripple as he draws me near. I breathe in his scent, and the warm muskiness is exactly how I remember it.
Still, the hug feels awkward—there’s a lot of backslapping happening—and we pull apart. I really hope he doesn’t notice the underarm stains that still seem to be growing. His arm was close, so it’s not beyond the realm of possibility.
I rotate to the front desk. We haven’t had the budget for a student receptionist this semester, so it’s all hands on deck when checking clients in. My eyes search out anything to focus on that’s not him. “I’m doing great!”
He takes a half-step back, as if he senses my shock. “Kyle mentioned you work at this center, which gave me the idea to come. Glad I came on a day you were working.”
I finally meet his gaze. “Kyle mentioned it?” I ask. It’s just like my brother to fail to tell me important things, like Taysom Reed might come to visit. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you around.”
His eyes squint. “I want to say six years, maybe,” he says. “We had sushi.”
I study him, angry at my heart for wearing flip-flops all around the inside of my chest. There are echoes of the kind, outgoing teenager he was back in the day, even though he’s filled out considerably.
Kyle once mentioned that Taysom has gained forty pounds of muscle since joining the NFL six years ago. I don’t know what forty pounds looks like on a guy’s frame, but I think that’s a conservative estimate.
We ran into each other here at the university one fall day. I was a freshman, and he’d just graduated and started his rookie year with the San Antonio Wolves. He’d been on campus to discuss some ways to give back now that he was a big-time NFL player. He asked me to eat with him in the cafeteria.
Which I did. Without a thought, I skipped class to go with him.
It was a mistake, and as atonement, I didn’t miss another class for the rest of my college career.
People stared at the lowly, little freshman trying to act cool with the big NFL player. Some even took pictures. There were sushi and rice and wasabi involved. “And you were much better at the chopsticks than I was,” I add.
He laughs. “You finally gave up and started popping them in your mouth with your fingers when you thought I wasn’t looking.”
My cheeks heat. Great. As if my whole being weren’t already some shade of red, now I’ve got an even more neon glow.
“I wasn’t aware you caught that.” I raise my chin. “You were so busy signing autographs and being fawned over, I didn’t think you noticed.” Ugh. Was that comment immature of me? Probably.
He ignores my tone. “I was having too much fun with you to care about all that.”
“Uh, speaking of fawning over you…” Willa interrupts with a laugh. “I just want to say how much my fiancé loves you. I mean, you know, in a football way. Not in a…Anyway!” She cringes. “He’s going to die when he hears you walked into our office today.”
“She brings up a good point. What are you doing here?” I ask.
His gaze flicks to me, but he doesn’t answer. “I’d be happy to sign this for him, if you think he’d like it,” he asks Willa. From his messenger bag, Taysom digs out a Sharpie and a small, faux-leather football with the Wolves insignia. She bounces on the balls of her feet.
“What does that say?” I point to the small print on the ball.
Taysom hesitates. “It just says that for every ball I sign and give away, my foundation donates a meal to the food bank here in San Antonio.” He signs it and then tosses it to Willa, who catches it and cries out in excitement.
She and I are not very athletic, so the fact that she caught it is sort of exciting.
He turns to me. “To answer your question, I’m here to film the spot for my documentary.”
My face must look as confused as I feel, because his eyes narrow and his head cocks to one side.
“It’s for a feature…I’m filming it here on campus.”
My eyes widen. “I don’t know anything about that.”
“Did the director of the center not say anything? Or Kyle?”
“Kyle never communicates about anything, and our director is out on personal leave right now.” I hesitate. “He broke both arms and had to have surgery. Because we’re all OTs, we’ve been offering him advice. Not that we know much about adult bone breaks, but that doesn’t stop us.”
“Oh. Poor guy.” Taysom’s brow creases. As much as I don’t want to believe it, I sense his concern is legit.
And he’s not here with his own kid.
I’m glad. It’s a relief for lots of reasons, especially because we don’t want any kid to need our services. Obviously, though, we’re here for them if they do!
Well, we’ll be here until June 1st.
But since he’s just here to film something, maybe that means he doesn’t have a kid at all.
Kyle would have said something if his best friend had had a kid, right?
And I don’t exactly follow his social media, but there are things about him I’ve heard.
Like, the Wolves didn’t do so well the past couple of years, and there has been no mention of girlfriends lately.
“So, was Kyle supposed to relay a message or…?” I ask.
“He suggested we film here when I was telling him about the documentary. He says the center is doing good things.”
I bunch up my mouth. “Huh. That’s…surprising.” I didn’t know Kyle valued my work. Maybe I should bake him a cake or something.
Taysom’s smile stretches across his face. “He loves his sister, even though he doesn’t show it.”
I lift a shoulder. “He shows it sometimes. He’s more chill the older he gets.
” And then, because I catch a gentle whiff of Taysom’s spicy, musky cologne, I realize I need a short break from this beautiful man.
“Let me check with the assistant director. Maybe she’s heard something,” I say.
When I leave the room, there’s an absence in my very soul from not being around him anymore.
Which is stupid.
Tracy pushes her reading glasses onto the top of her head when I enter her office. I close the door behind me. Grief hangs heavily around her shoulders. She frowns and studies me. “Charlotte, are you okay? I know this is all—”
“Uh…” Please, heart, stop beating like this. “Taysom Reed is here?” My voice rises at the end, like I’m asking her about the end of the free world.
“Oh! I thought that was next week. I…did you not hear about this?” Tracy scratches the top of her head when she notices my confusion. “I apologize. With all this hard news, I mixed up the dates, I guess.” She pads around her desk, lifting papers.
How Taysom Reed could escape anyone’s thoughts is beyond me, but Tracy doesn’t have the history I have with him.
And not being told about stuff is nothing new. I’m not in charge of anything here, and I don’t have any seniority. Why would they tell me anything?
But it’s Taysom Reed, San Antonio’s sweetheart. You’d think it would have slipped out somehow.
“We’re all a little discombobulated with Ron gone and the…news,” I reassure her. Tracy doesn’t need to feel guilty about not telling me.
“Yes, well.” Tracy stands. “It was all thrown together last minute. Mr. Reed’s foundation reached out about filming something in our office for some documentary he’s filming?
” She shakes her head at her desk. “I don’t really know.
Ron was thrilled about him coming. It’s too bad he’s not here for it. ”
“Yeah, just pour salt on his wounds. First two broken arms, then not getting to meet an NFL star.” I whisper that last part. Taysom doesn’t need to hear me call him a star.
Tracy opens her door and joins Taysom and the film crew in the lobby. “Mr. Reed,” she says, reaching out to shake his hand. “Welcome. We’re all a little stretched thin today, with Ron being out of the office so suddenly. But come on into my office and we’ll get started.”
“Charlotte, it was cool seeing you again.” Taysom is standing near me, and the sheer mass of his body takes on a different tone.
He’s still a solid, muscular, lithe wall.
But suddenly, the way he’s looking at me is softer, causing my heart to gallop again.
Why has this attraction never died away? You’d think it would, but no.
Actually, only a fool would think my old crush would just dissipate into thin air.
Taysom is gorgeous. And back when I used to know him, he was kind.
He noticed people, you know? Like, really noticed them.
My mind darts around flashes of after-school and backyard games and hot dogs on a little charcoal grill.
No. No dwelling on all that.
“Do you know Charlotte?” Tracy asks, her brows rising.
He nods, a slow smile taking over his face. “I’ve known Charlotte since she was this tall.” He measures the air at his knee.
I’m still just a little kid to him. Just his best friend’s little sister.
This is good because, see, crush? You can dry up now.
“Really?” Tracy is grinning now. “Well, with Ron gone, and with the…news of the day…I have a lot of extras to take care of now, so…” She steps into her office but pokes her head out. “Can you help him and his crew for me?” She gestures to the man and woman flanking him.
“This is Raj, my foundation’s president,” Taysom says. “And the genius behind the camera is Natalie.”
They both wave, and I wave back. “The problem is, my client will be here in…” I glance at my durable, waterproof, kid-proof watch with the bright blue plastic band, hoping the movement doesn’t show my sweat stains.
“You’ve got fifteen minutes, though, right?” Tracy asks.
I thought it was much later than it was. Time must have slowed down in that meeting of doom. I could have sworn it was one o’clock now, but it’s only twelve forty-five.
I struggle to find the words, opening and closing my mouth. Tracy stares at me as if I’m being rude. I cannot have Tracy thinking I’m not a team player.