Chapter 30
Charlotte
It was a long day at work, and back at my place, Taysom’s face, from my perspective right now, is more attractive than ever.
He’s cradling my head in his lap as I lie on the leather sofa, patina-ed with age.
Sure, I can see up his nose. But Taysom Reed’s strong, straight nose is so nice that even this angle can’t mar his attractiveness.
“Kyle gave me a talking to after the wedding the other night,” Taysom says.
My eyes widen and then squeeze shut before I manage to speak. “He knows about us?”
Taysom chuckles. “I think it was pretty obvious.”
I open my eyes. “So, is he upset?”
“No. Just concerned about the same things we are. How our lifestyles are different and how busy football travel is.”
“I should probably talk to him.”
“We should talk, too,” Taysom gazes down at me. “About what this is.”
Gulp. “And what is this?” I want to define it, to say we’re together, but I don’t know if he’s ready for that.
He threads his fingers through my hair, staring at it, before meeting my gaze. “All I know is, when I’m around you, I feel different than I ever have. I think you’re an incredible woman, Charlotte.”
Sunlight splashes over my insides. “You’re incredible yourself. I’ve never felt like this before, Taysom. Not for anyone else.”
We’re quiet for a moment, like this is enough dissecting for now. Still, my stomach lurches as I finally open my mouth to tell him news I don’t want to say, news I cried about to Willa at work today. “So, I didn’t get that job. The one in Tulsa.”
It’s been a week since the interview and I had high hopes that they’d call me up for a second one in person, but nope.
“Are you kidding me?” His hand stills, his voice laced with disbelief.
I drop my forearm over my eyes. “They said they needed someone with more experience. I don’t blame them.”
He continues to massage my head, like he’s been doing, slowly rubbing my scalp and pulling his fingers through my hair. It probably looks atrocious, but I don’t care.
Taysom certainly doesn’t care if my hair looks atrocious, so why should I?
“They’re so blind.” He frowns and his massaging becomes a little more rough. “You have a few years under your belt already. And anyone with eyes and half a brain can see that your dedication and expertise make up for not working in the industry for a decade.”
“Thanks.” I appreciate his enthusiasm. “You’re a pretty good support, you know that?” I pat Miley, who is passed out asleep on my belly, as I stretch my legs long. “So is she. She’s so warm.”
Taysom’s gaze flicks over both of us and I don’t think I’m mistaking the sweet sweep of protectiveness on his face. We haven’t yet defined what we have. How can we? Both of our lives could be turned upside down in the next few weeks or months.
I don’t want to work in Tulsa or anywhere that’s going to take me away from Taysom. And I don’t want him to get traded to another team.
Still, I have to be okay with where we’re at right now.
“Do you think our adoring public misses her?” Taysom tilts his head in Miley’s direction. “I’ve kind of liked not having to film videos lately, though.”
We haven’t done a video since the night after the gait analysis, where we sat comfortably on Taysom’s couch—why were we not filming the videos at his place to begin with? It’s so much nicer than mine—and thanked everyone for their support and coming out for the gait analysis.
“I know, me too. It’s been nice. But maybe at some point we should hop on and say hello?” I don’t exactly know why, but I’m a lot more comfortable being in front of the camera now. “Besides, the world needs to see Miley in her getup.”
Taysom snorts. “No. It’s embarrassing.”
“Miley, don’t listen to him. You do you. Let your beauty shine and be proud of it.” I giggle as I straighten the fluted edges of her pink and purple “cat shirt,” which I bought online in a fit of sadness over the Center slowly dying right in front of my eyes.
Seriously. Skyler’s last day was today and with him went a bunch of work spirit and even more of our stuff. The walls have been stripped bare. Even our fiddle leaf plant seems to be giving up the ghost.
Willa and I shed a few tears over it in the parking lot after work.
I feel like I’m dying, too.
“Huh. I like those words, Charlotte. You should tell them to yourself, as well. You should be proud of your beauty.” Taysom knows I used to have self-esteem issues. Okay, maybe I still do and I probably always will, but just yesterday, I did something new.
“Hey, I’ll have you know that yesterday at work, I wore my hair in a clip, instead of a bun, which I consider a win. My co-workers, what’s left of them, kept commenting on how much hair I have and that they like the color and they had no idea because I always keep it pulled back.”
“I’m proud of you, Charlotte. This sunset hair needs to be worn with pride.”
I sigh. For a brief moment, I’m not concerned about all the issues plaguing our lives, but I feel happy. Grateful. Excited for the future.
“Thank you, Taysom.” I sigh. “I visited MJ in the hospital today during my lunch break.”
“How is she?”
Miley has started stabbing me in the chest with her claws, so I gently remove them from my shirt and sit up so I can set her down on the floor. She immediately jumps right back up and noses Taysom’s arm, so he’ll pet her.
“She’s doing well,” I say, the look of fatigue on her face still in the forefront of my mind. “Surgery went well, so now it’s recovery time. Things have changed since I had the procedure done as a kid, so thankfully, she should have an easier time than I did. Still, it’s going to be a long road.”
“I bet she loved seeing you.”
I grin. “She did. I brought her some of her favorite toys from the center.” I shrug. “Might as well. Ron and Tracy will keep a lot of the center’s supplies in some storage spaces in their new building, but there won’t be room for all of it.”
His finger trails lightly down my nose. “How are you doing? With all of this?”
“Friday’s my last day. I just confirmed that with Ron and Tracy.”
“They just might have to use a police escort to get you to leave the building, huh?” Taysom teases. Yet, there’s a sadness, a kindness, in his eyes.
“Maybe.” I sigh with a slight smile. “I can’t believe it’s really going to be over.” Every time I think of it or say those words, a pulsing thrums inside of me, like my body is daring me to believe there could be an alternative.
“Look, I’ve been thinking of something,” Taysom says. “And I haven’t brought it up because I don’t want you to be mad.”
I sit up from his lap and rotate so I’m facing him. “Why would I be mad? What is it?”
“I’ve been talking with my money guys and I think I want to donate to the center.
Give it a big dose of funding, no strings attached.
I tried to do it a month ago, but legal told me with my foundation, there were so many workarounds it would be too hard to do at that time.
They kept putting me off, kept telling me it really needed to be done under the foundation’s name for legal purposes and what not.
I finally just went to my money guys and took it out of my own funds. It’s simpler that way anyway.”
My heart pounds. “Taysom, no.”
“Why not?”
“Because you can’t do that. I won’t accept it.”
“Well, good thing it’s not for you. It’s for the center.”
“Taysom, you can’t. That’s too generous.”
“How do you know how much it is? It could be a hundred dollars.”
I give him side-eye. “I know it’s more than that. You can’t just swoop in with your money and save the center. It doesn’t work like that.”
“I have enough,” he says quietly, his gaze on me. “I want to.”
“I know you do.” I wriggle closer to him, place my arms around his neck and kiss him. “I love that you want to, but what if we did it a different way?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been dreaming about crowd sourcing. Like, literally having dreams about a bunch of people donating.”
“Like an online fundraiser type of thing?”
I nod but get up off the couch. Miley is meowing in the kitchen, wandering around in her fluted, flirty little top like she’s on a cat runway. I pull open the fridge and grab her can of food. “Can you believe she’s on a full cat food diet now?”
“No more smelly milk replacer.”
“Thank heavens for that,” I say. I fill her little dish with the food and Taysom freshens her water bowl.
“But yeah, I’ve been talking with Willa about setting up a fundraiser,” I say.
“Crowd source the heck out of this. And if the center can’t accept it or it’s not enough to reopen, the funds would go directly to the department, and they can hold it for them for when it does reopen. ”
If it reopens, my short-circuiting brain tells me.
“Well, what are we waiting for? The clock is ticking. The center’s closing on your last day of work, right?”
I breathe out a stiff breath, nerves threatening to take over. I nod. “I should have done it sooner. Willa was excited about the idea, but I just haven’t done it.”
Taysom’s already got his laptop pulled up. “I can go in and set this up right now.”
“And we could make a video on your channel? To try to get the word out?”
“Absolutely.” Within minutes, he’s gotten all the information filled out. I download photos of the center from the university’s webpage, and Willa even talks me through a short write up over the phone to put at the top.
“That’s incredible,” I say, looking at the finished fundraising page. “It’s…it’s actually happening.”
Taysom smiles. “Before I make this go live, I have something to request of you.”
“What?”
“That on the video, you’ll share your story. About your DDH.”
I blink. “Um, okay. Sure.”
“I don’t just mean a cursory look at it. Not just a sentence or two about it, but do you think you could describe what it’s really been like for you? All these years with this condition?”
“Taysom, you make it sound like it’s life threatening or something. A lot of people have it way worse than me.”
“Well, sure. But that’s not what we’re talking about here.
We want the world to know what can happen if centers like this close down.
A lack of resources can have an impact.” He slides his hand through my hair again, giving me a tender smile.
“If people can hear about your own experience, they’ll understand the need a lot better than just photos and a description of the center. ”
“I don’t know if I can be that vulnerable, Taysom.” I swallow hard. “Besides, that feels manipulative, in a way, doesn’t it?”
“You’re just asking for help. Not for yourself, but for the center. This isn’t for your own gain; it’s for the kids. And you can’t share their stories because of privacy issues. But you can share yours.” He sighs and Miley gives an ear-breaking meow as she sniffs around her now empty bowl.
“You’re the powerhouse here, Charlotte. You.
Give us five minutes on screen to capture your heart and dedication.
This is more than a career for you; it’s one of your life’s purposes.
I’m starting to think you have many life’s purposes, and I’m so proud of you for that.
” His gaze darkens a moment and I blink, delight flashing through me.
I cover my face with my hands. “I don’t know what to say. In response to you, or on camera.”
“If you need to make some notes or think about it for a while, then do. But this has to be posted tonight.”
“Okay.” I drop my hands and give a resolute nod. “I think I can do this.”
“Good.” Taysom’s voice gets all growly. Intense. “Give it all you’ve got. Be yourself. You can do this, Charlotte.” His tone holds exasperation. “No regrets. No prisoners. Just show them your heart and it’s going to be exactly what’s needed.” He’s almost yelling, he’s so passionate about this.
And my heart is one hundred percent fused to his.