Chapter 14
Wyatt
I managed to hide it during breakfast and lunch, but by the time dinner rolled around, Taylor immediately picked up on it.
“Lose a tooth?” she asked with a slight smile. “I can help you look, if you want.”
She’d been doing her best to fill the silence with small talk, and I’d been doing my best to make it seem like I was present through it all. Nodding when I needed to, forcing a smile when it was expected, but it was a feeble facade.
My spoon clinked against the side of my bowl. The same spoon I’d been swishing around in my canned chili.
I could tell her. I could explain my lack of appetite, making vague references to my therapy session and all the junk it brought up for me. If I was lucky, Taylor would leave it at that.
But.
I ran the risk of opening a can of worms I wasn’t ready to sort through. Especially not with her. Not yet.
“I’m not that hungry, I guess,” I murmured, pushing my bowl away from me.
“You’re missing out.” Taylor took another spoonful, closing her eyes to the rich flavors. “I’d never say this came out of a can.”
“Technically, it is from a can,” I corrected her. “I’ve been living like this for long enough to have developed a very particular blend of spices that serve to make you forget that technicality.”
She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “A particular set of skills… I like it. You’re proving to be a woman of many talents.”
“Just because it’s survival doesn’t mean it has to be bleak.” I shrugged, hearing how weighed down I sounded, even to my own ears.
Taylor cocked her head to the side, studying me for a moment. It was like the whirring sound from the wheels in her head was on full blast. I knew it was coming before she opened her mouth, but even so, it still felt as though she’d put me on the spot.
“Are you okay?”
Ladies and gentlemen, my least favorite question in the world.
I offered a small nod all the same. “Just one of those days, you know?”
She reached out a hand, but I quickly diverted my attention, pretending to be lost in rearranging the chili in my bowl. Taylor sighed, her patience and understanding evident.
“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean,” she said, taking back her hand. “I’m here if you need to talk.”
“I’m fine,” I said almost immediately. A little too rushed and frantic to be convincing, but whatever.
I felt bad, but also not really. Because I didn’t want to get into it. I swear, things were better when the storm had reception knocked out for days. Connectivity, while it was supposed to be my lifeline, was beginning to feel like a burden more than anything else.
Taylor shifted in her chair, a mischievous grin creeping onto her face. “Hey, maybe some physio will help cheer you up? It works wonders for me…”
“Actually, I was going to suggest we skip today’s session,” I replied, skimming over her attempt at light humor. “I think it’ll do you good to rest your leg.”
Her face dropped. “Skip the frisking? But that’s my favorite part.”
“Frisking, huh?”
Her laughter was infectious, and I found myself joining in.
“Oh, the perks of being under your watchful eye,” she said. “It’s a shame to think I’ll have to do without it today.”
“You’ll survive,” I said, starting on my dinner and finding that I was starving. “Think about it this way… It’ll give you something to look forward to for tomorrow. And since nothing happens around these parts, that’s a nugget of gold right there.”
“I wouldn’t say nothing happens…” And the way she looked at me, her gaze locked on mine, immediately spelled out her meaning.
There was no missing it. Not the meaning, or the way the tension at the kitchen table suddenly ramped up a notch. Taylor had a way of doing that. Of taking a seemingly mundane moment and turning on the heat until it set every one of my nerve endings on fire.
I had just given myself permission to go with it, to forget therapy and old demons, and just have fun with Taylor, when the familiar ding of my laptop called me back to reality. I excused myself and went to sit on the couch.
“Should I…?” Taylor’s eyes darted to the ladder against the back wall, and the look of trepidation on her face made me laugh out loud.
“Not therapy today, just my agent,” I replied. “So, no, you don’t have to go scaling the ladder with your injured leg.”
“Agent?” Her surprise was clear on her face, but there was no time to get into it, because I answered the call.
Patricia’s beaming face filled my screen, the brightness of her mood a stark contrast to the gloom I’d been wrapped in all day.
“My favorite client!”
I rolled my eyes, but that didn’t slow her down.
“You look great,” she said. “I mean, a little like you’re stuck in some cabin in the middle of nowhere, but great nonetheless.”
“Used all your good jokes on your other favorite client, I take it?”
A hearty laugh bubbled out of her, and she gave a dismissive wave. “Always the people’s person, Wyatt. I love it. How’s the writing coming along?”
I sighed, my gaze momentarily drifting toward the kitchen where Taylor was still sitting. She pretended to be in a deep, muted conversation with Michael Keaton, so I wouldn’t think she was listening to my call.
“The storm has been more of a distraction than I thought,” I replied, bringing my focus back to Patricia. “Not much writing is getting done, I’m afraid.”
“Uh, holed up with nowhere to go and nothing to do?” Patricia sounded unconvinced. “Forgive me, but that sounds like the perfect setting for finishing a book.”
I couldn’t resist another glance over at the kitchen. There was no way I was getting into the Taylor situation with my agent. No way I wanted her knowing that a beautiful woman, not the storm, was the cause of my distraction from writing.
“I’ll get new pages to you in the next couple of days,” I said then, deciding it was best to give her something to work with. “Did you hear anything back about the… other thing?”
I couldn’t even say it out loud. Thankfully, Patricia knew me well enough, so I didn’t have to.
Her expression changed. Gone was the bright and beaming. In its place came serious and somber.
“I tried, Wyatt.” she shook her head slowly, sounding almost apologetic. Almost. “But the publishers are insisting on a promo tour. It’s the final book of the series, and the fans are rabid for media interaction.”
“That’s not the point,” I argued. “I explained to you that-”
“And I explained that there are certain things you can’t just wish away in your line of work,” Patricia said.
I let out a frustrated breath. “Forcing me into public promotion will only do more harm than good. Are the publishers happy with that possibility? I’m not the person they want in the spotlight.”
“No can do.” She shook her head. “There’s no way out of it this time, so you better start practicing your public speaking skills.” A loud buzz came through the speaker and Patricia grabbed her phone. “I have another call. Can’t wait to see those pages.”
And just like that, her face disappeared, leaving me staring at my laptop screen with my heart in my throat. They were really going to do this. Force me to be their promo princess, even after I made it clear that was the one thing I wouldn’t do.
A feeling of utter dread settled in my gut, disturbing the few bites of chili I’d just had. It made me instantly regret working so hard to find my appetite. Because just when I thought the day was taking an upturn, it flipped over and got a lot worse.
“I wasn’t listening, or anything.” Taylor spoke from her spot at the kitchen table. Michael Keaton’s head was in her lap and she was giving him scratches. “But there are ways to get around your fear of spotlights.”
She was trying. I knew that. But it was more than I could deal with at the time. Not on top of everything else.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I mumbled, snapping my laptop shut and stowing it back on the coffee table.
I went back to the kitchen and started clearing the table. I didn’t want to look at Taylor. I could already picture the sympathetic eyes and tilt of the head, and that was more than I was willing to take on.
Michael Keaton hopped off Taylor and went to lie on the rug in front of the kitchen sink. He knew what time it was, and his role in it. Company at my feet while I did the dishes. I bent down and gave him a good old belly rub, which sent his tail thumping loudly on the wooden floor.
“You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” His brown eyes found mine, and that pink tongue came out to lick my hand.
When I straightened, Taylor was looking right at me, and my gaze got stuck. Couldn’t be avoided. Those baby blues had a way of enticing me, drawing me in like a tractor beam. But to my relief—and curiosity—there was no sympathy or sorry little head tilt waiting for me.
Taylor flashed a warm smile. “How about we give up on this day, and have a movie night?”
“What?” Her sudden move from concerned to excited had me baffled.
“Oh, come on. It’s a good way to get our minds off… whatever our minds are stuck on,” she said. “And I noticed the bubble TV you have hidden under that giant crochet doily, or whatever. It works, right?”
My gaze flickered over to the old drinks trolley cum TV stand in the corner, and I nodded. “It’s ancient, but yeah, it works.”
Taylor’s smile widened. “It’s settled, then. Leave the dishes for the morning, and let’s jump into bed with a movie.”
“Bed?”
She was already out of her chair and limping over to roll the TV next to the bed.
“I’ve seen your vinyl collection, but didn’t spot any DVDs.” She spoke over her shoulder as she struggled with the weight of the old TV combined with the squeaky trolley wheels.
It was done. Decided. There was no use arguing at this point.
“That’s because there isn’t one,” I replied.
Taylor stopped pushing only long enough to fix me with a quizzical look. “What do you mean? Why have a player but no-”
“I don’t have a collection,” I clarified. “Not like the vinyls, anyway. I only own a few movies, and… all of them are Batman.”
Her mouth dropped open to form a round ‘O’, and she blinked at me a few times before that cheeky smile broke across her face again.
“Go figure,” she said with a soft laugh, and got back to rolling the TV. “I haven’t seen all of them, so I guess this’ll be my education in the Dark Knight. Batman marathon, here we go!”
I stood in the kitchen and watched her set up the TV in the perfect spot in relation to where our heads would be. She was clinical about it, as if there’d be a prize once she finished. I bit back my laughter.
And that’s when I realized… there was laughter. And once again, I had Taylor to thank for it. She had jumped into action, easily sensing my need for distraction, but having enough grace to not push me into talking about why the need existed.
Talking the whole time, she got the bed ready, and even went to pull a bag of potato chips from the pantry.
Not once did she ask how I was doing, whether I was okay, or if I needed anything.
The woman was a wonder, steering clear of my three least favorite questions, as if she knew that was exactly what I needed.
“I’m stacking these high,” she said, fluffing her pillows with vigor. “I have a tendency to pass out after opening credits if my brain even gets the slightest hint that I’m lying down.”
I walked over to my side of the bed and started fluffing, too. “Same,” I said with a smile. A real one.
Our eyes locked, and the softness I found in hers was arresting.
It nearly took my breath away. So much was going on outwardly, but one glance told me everything I needed to know about what she wasn’t saying.
The words she held onto because she sensed they might upset me, or that I wasn’t ready for them yet.
It was at that very moment that I started falling in love with Taylor Kane. Just a little, but enough for me to notice.
We crawled into bed, and Taylor snuggled in beside me. I was warmed up from the inside out, from contentment, and nothing else. Because I realized that for the first time in forever, I wasn’t alone, and more than that… I was happy that I wasn’t alone.
We started the first movie, the soft glow of the TV casting flickering shadows across the room. And for a little while, the outside world, with its estranged families and promo obligations, seemed a million miles away.