Chapter 18
SATURDAY
CHELSEY DIDN’T WANT to let go of Taylor just yet, but having a conversation with other people while enveloped in his embrace was starting to feel awkward.
“I want you to take the next week off, Heather.” She took a step out of Taylor’s arms and immediately missed his closeness. “You and Rodney have a lot of planning to do.”
“You’re right, boss.” Heather kissed Rodney back. “We do have our whole lives to celebrate, don’t we sweetie?”
Rodney loosened his bowtie, looking a little confused, but offered a nod without asking for details, as if already beginning to understand the mysterious intricacies of women. Smart man. Chelsey’s grandma used to say “you can be right, or you can be happy” at every wedding ceremony.
The lucky couple walked away, swinging their clasped hands between them.
Only when they disappeared around the corner of the building did Chelsey dare look at Taylor.
His words still buzzed around her head and body.
He’d asked her to travel with him. The two of them.
Alone. Her stomach got butterflies just thinking about it.
“Wait up, Chelsey.” Rich strode through the grass and stopped in front of Chelsey. “I need to talk to you about my job.”
Chelsey's attention snapped to him—meager as it was with her brain getting ready to turn off. “What? Why? What’s going on?” Was he leaving her? How would she ever replace him?
Rich shoved his hands into his overalls.
“Dadgum, this is harder than I thought.” Chelsey belatedly realized he’d never gone home to shower or change.
He still had mud spatters and grass all over him.
“Well, I might need to turn in my two weeks’ notice.
You see, I’m in love and that love would force me to change careers. ”
“Why would your love make you change?” Taylor asked.
“Well.” Rich rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve fallen for a jackhammer and there’s not much use for that in event planning.”
Chelsey shook her head at the smile spreading across Rich’s face. She tried to keep a straight face but couldn’t fight the giggle forcing its way up. If she wasn’t careful, it would turn into a maniacal cackle. She felt a little out-of-control.
Taylor had no qualms with laughing out loud. “Of all the Richs’ I know—”
“I’m one of them.” Rich grinned at Taylor.
“No, Rich, you are my favorite one. But which jackhammer will you pick?”
“There are a few I’ve made eyes at.”
As the two men continued to rib each other, Chelsey’s eyes grew heavier and heavier. She glanced at the bench where she and Taylor sat earlier, where they’d stood and witnessed Heather and Rodney becoming engaged.
“Hey, Chels. You thinking of taking a nap on that there bench?” Rich broke into her thoughts, or maybe they were dreams?
“You’re looking a little droopy, Chelsey. Why don’t we get you home.” Taylor dangled his keys in the air. “Let’s take my car so you make it home safely.”
He held out a hand for her. “We can come back later and pick yours up.” When she didn’t move Taylor beckoned with his head toward his parents’ Escalade.
“I can go home on my own in my own car.” She took an unstable step in the direction of the parking lot. “I’m a big girl now.”
“I swear I’m a gentleman and will take you to your place before you turn into a pumpkin.” Taylor’s mischievous smile made her knees wobble a little bit.
“Cinderella didn’t turn into a pumpkin.” Chelsey reached down and took off her wedges. “You know what? I bet Cinderella didn’t lose her shoe. I bet she threw it because her feet ached so badly.” Chelsey started to walk away from Taylor and threw one of her shoes to the left and one to the right.
Taylor grabbed both wedges and held them in one hand.
“What are you doing?”
“I know these are yours and I know where you live, so this isn’t much of a hunt to find my princess.” His voice deepened and Chelsey found herself taking a step toward him as her breath caught in her throat.
My princess.
Taylor had called her that once when she was crowned Senior Ball Princess.
Back then, she thought they were on the edge of “happily ever after” and Taylor’s arms felt like home.
All she knew, she couldn’t make any more decisions tonight.
She wasn’t sure she made the right one to allow him to take her home. She was too vulnerable at the moment.
Taylor opened the passenger door for Chelsey. “I found Mom’s stash of her homemade tomato soup at home.”
Chelsey’s stomach growled. When did she last eat? Wouldn’t it be better to go home and crash for the next three weeks?
She leaned against the car, trying to look casual as lightheadedness hit. She needed food or sleep soon or she’d pass out.
“We can make grilled cheese sandwiches…" Taylor smoothed an eyebrow, his tell of nervousness.
He remembered how much she liked tomato soup and grilled cheese, no matter the time of year. She glanced at her watch then twisted it. Not quite midnight. “Well, if you’re making grilled cheese…"
Chelsey slid into the car and sighed as she sank back into the seat. It felt good to sit down and not be in charge of anything. She would never take sitting down for granted again. Or sleeping.
Once Taylor started the car, he adjusted the air and asked if she was comfortable. She nodded absently, already thinking of which bath bomb she would use tomorrow night, and which takeout to order for three days’ worth of food and—
Chelsey startled awake when Taylor pulled into his parents’ driveway. She was vaguely aware that her chin was almost resting on her chest. She stretched and tried to nonchalantly wipe her mouth on her arm just in case she drooled. “I fell asleep, didn’t I?”
“Yup and you only snored a little.” Taylor closed the garage door behind them. Chelsey smacked his arm before he hopped out of the car to open her door.
“Well, you drool,” she said when he helped her out of the car.
“That was quite the comeback.”
“Shut up.”
He pulled her into a quick hug and kissed the top of her head. Did he have any idea how that simple, sweet gesture made her heart race and knees weak? Did he remember how many times he used to do that same thing when they were in high school?
Once in the kitchen, their routine flowed like seven years hadn’t passed.
“Do you mind grabbing the silver pot?” Taylor opened the fridge and took out a glass container of soup. “The best soup around: my mom’s famous, home-made—”
Chelsey reached for the container of soup instead. Her stomach growled as she opened the lid and inhaled. Mrs. Compton made the best soups in the county, probably the state, while Chelsey’s own mom used to make the best enchiladas in the world. Not that Chelsey was biased.
“It’s so much better heated,” Taylor teased.
Chelsey found a pot and carefully poured the deep, red liquid to warm on the stovetop while Taylor made grilled cheese sandwiches.
Chelsey settled back on the barstool, the farthest away from Taylor, as he buttered the bread then sprinkled the right amount of garlic salt on each before placing the bread in the pan.
She was surprised how they fell into the same easy rhythm that they’d developed while they dated. They often left school with friends and ate lunch at his house or hers. Was this rhythm from familiarity with the kitchen or Taylor? Or both?
Speaking of high school. “Does your mom still hide chocolates in the cupboard above the fridge?”
Taylor opened the cupboard over the fridge and pulled a glass candy dish filled with Hershey’s Kisses and placed it near her elbow. Chelsey reached a shaky hand for a chocolate, and he tapped it with his finger. “Not until you eat some dinner.”
Chelsey waved her empty hands in the air so he could see she didn’t take one.
She didn’t trust her voice. Being here with Taylor, in this familiar setting, him making sure her favorite foods were in reach, made her heart ache.
When he turned to slice the cheese, Chelsey grabbed a chocolate and hid it in her lap.
“I saw that,” Taylor said without turning around.
“What?” Chelsey quickly unwrapped the candy and put the chocolatey goodness in her mouth.
Taylor glanced at her over his shoulder, and she stopped sucking on the candy. He sighed dramatically and went to the fridge.
“If you’re going to break the rules, at least have a glass of milk with your disgrace.” He filled a tall glass and slid it to her. She took a long drink and gave him a milk-stache smile.
“You got something there.” He pointed to his own upper lip.
Chelsey rubbed her chin. “Did I get it?”
“Close. There.” He pointed again at his own face.
This time she rubbed her forehead. “Now?”
Chelsey’s hands trembled as memories of this game from high school floated through her mind; the game that always ended with them kissing.
Taylor came around the island and stepped closer to her. “Right there.”
Chelsey’s body hummed at his nearness. How did he still smell so good after a long day helping at the auction? His gaze slowly traveled down to her lips, making her shiver all over again.
Taylor raised his hand and softly stroked her cheek.
Then he sniffed. Loudly.
That was unexpected and not very romantic. Was her breath that bad? She probably did stink after a long evening working the auction, even after her late shower.
“Somethings burning,” Taylor said. He didn’t take his eyes off her or her lips.
“The sandwiches.”
They both turned to the stove at the same time.
Before he turned away to reach for the pan, she was sure she saw regret flash across his face.
He turned down the heat and placed a piece of bread on top of the cheese.
“Nice and toasty.” He tugged at the collar of his button-down shirt.
“I’m going to grab some sodas. I’ll be right back.
Then you can tell me all about your events coming up.
That sounds like a big deal.” He disappeared into the garage, unaware of her inner turmoil.