Chapter 20
They fell into a quiet pattern—calls, drop-bys, soft things left unsaid but deeply felt. Denver had been a beautiful dream she couldn’t stop reliving. For two weeks now, Taylor had found herself drifting into memories of their time together, his hands on her skin, his laughter in her ear.
Like a teenager with her first crush, she’d catch herself smiling at nothing, replaying moments in her mind when she should be working.
It felt dangerous to be this happy, this consumed.
Part of her kept waiting for the bubble to burst, for the fantasy to fade, for Brooks to realize she wasn’t worth the trouble.
But every time her phone lit up with his name, her heart still skipped a beat like they were a brand-new item each time.
Her papers had come in, and she was officially back to being Taylor Bradshaw.
She’d moved on with her life in some ways but still she needed to tie up some loose ends and enjoy life some more.
Brooks had been wonderful. He had been a man.
The kind of man she used to wonder if existed.
She’d never prayed for someone perfect, just someone real.
And Brooks had shown up, quietly checking every box she forgot to write down.
Her phone ringing pulled her from her thoughts. It was Blake. She smiled hoping that they could make up finally. Taylor grabbed the lamb chops from the fridge and answered her phone.
“Hey girl. Wha…”
“Cut the shit,” Blake interrupted, her tone dry and unamused. “How long you been fucking on my brother?”
Taylor froze. Damn. She’d expected this moment to come eventually, but hearing it so bluntly made her stomach drop. They’d planned on telling her soon, together. But Taylor asked Brooks to wait at least until she was divorced. Now she was curious how she even found out.
Silence stretched between them, the weight of it making her palms sweat.
“Blake, I can explain. Me and-,”
“That’s why you been so worried about Emon?” Blake accused her words rapid and cutting. “Because Brooks got you playing spy?”
Taylor sucked in a breath, her heart slamming against her ribs.
This is bad. Blake was hurt, feeling blindsided, and Taylor didn’t blame her.
But this wasn’t some betrayal, wasn’t some game she and Brooks had been playing at her expense.
And she had it all wrong. Brooks hadn’t asked her to report anything.
“Blake, stop being dramatic. “I’m grown. This wasn’t about spying or sneaking.”
“It doesn’t seem that way.”
“I didn’t even know about you and Emon when this started. Honestly.”
“What about Tyree?” Blake fired back. “Like, girl, is this really you? You’ve been on me about my moves, but this is out of character for you.”
That hit a nerve. Taylor bit her lip, her grip tightening on the phone. Because yes she absolutely had been out of character, and she’d been smiling more because of it. She wasn’t going to apologize for that.
“It’s not what you think.”
“It’s exactly what I think. You ain’t been worried about me. You been trying to keep Brooks’s attention.”
Taylor opened her mouth, but Blake steamrolled right over her, voice rising with frustration.
“How long?”
Taylor hesitated, knowing once she said it, there was no turning back.
“Three months,” Taylor said quietly, voice flat.
Silence.
Blake exhaled hard, her disappointment cutting deeper than the silence.
Blake sucked her teeth so loudly Taylor could hear it clear as day. “Three… wow.”
Taylor squeezed her eyes shut, pinching the bridge of her nose. It had probably been more than that. She was so hung up in their romance that she had lost track of time. Things had changed for her.
“Y’all could’ve just told me instead of all this sneaking and creeping.”
Taylor exhaled sharply, the frustration finally bubbling over. “Blake, it wasn’t that serious, and you don’t know everything.” Her voice wavered. “You just don’t.”
“Well, tell me what it is, then, because right now, this feels like my best friend betrayed me.” Blake’s voice softened, but it was no less sharp. “And if I’m wrong, I’m woman enough to say I’m wrong.”
Taylor swallowed; emotion thick in her throat. She hadn’t wanted to hide it for that long, not really. But everything had happened so fast, and telling Blake meant acknowledging how real it all was.
“When’s the last time you called to check on me?” The question slipped before Taylor could stop it. She wasn’t trying to turn this around, but damn something had to give. Everyone had to take accountability, and she was taking hers.
The silence that followed was different this time. Heavy in a way that said Blake knew she was right.
“Y’all seem to believe I have this perfect life, and the truth is I don’t.”
Blake let out a long sigh. “Taylor, be fair. You don’t say anything either. You‘ve enjoyed being the perfect friend, the friend that had it all. I love you, but we gon’ keep it a buck.”
Taylor closed her eyes, that was true. She had hidden behind the illusion of perfection because it was easier than admitting things were falling apart.
It was easier than ruining girls night because your man couldn’t hold it together.
She wore her silence like armor, afraid of becoming someone’s burden again.
“Yeah, well, maybe,” she admitted, her voice quieter. “But that doesn’t mean things have been perfect in my life. I got my shit too.”
Blake sighed again, the sharpness in her tone fading. “Well, I’m your friend, and I’m listening if you want to say more. But you go all recluse on us, and we respect that.” A pause. “I’ll do better.”
Something in Taylor’s chest loosened at that.
“Me too, B.”
She hung up, the weight of the truth feeling a lot less heavier. The words still stung, but the air was clearer now. No more hiding. No more dodging .
Taylor stared at her phone a little longer, then set it down to focus on the mission.
Tonight wasn’t about Blake. It wasn’t even about the past.
Tonight was about Brooks.
About the man who’d met her where she was and loved her anyway. The one who saw her mess and didn’t flinch.
She moved with more purpose now, reaching for the lamb chops, her playlist already queuing up.
She couldn’t fix everything with a meal—but she could show him she saw him. She appreciated him.
And she wasn’t running anymore.
As she worked, Sweet Thing played softly in the background, and for the first time, she looked around and really saw her home. This kitchen had witnessed so many lonely nights. So many tears were shed over a man who barely came home.
Now it was warm, alive with laughter and music. She’d replaced the wedding photos with artwork that made her happy, painted one wall a deep terracotta that made her skin glow. Changed the bedding, got a new mattress. Small things, that felt big. That reflected her.
The vibration of her phone on the counter made her pause.
Her heart dropped into her stomach when she saw her mother’s name flashing across the screen.
Taylor hesitated, finger hovering over decline.
They hadn’t spoken since the day she shattered their expectations and walked away from the life they’d picked for her.
But something in her gut told her to answer. It was time.
“Hello?”
“Taylor.” Her mother’s voice was softer than usual, hesitant even. “How are you, baby?”
Taylor stirred the potatoes, keeping her voice even. “I’m good, Momma. Just cooking dinner.”
A pause stretched between them, too long to be casual. Taylor sighed, filling the silence. “How are you?”
They hadn’t always been at odds. Before the fear, before the church swallowed her whole, her mother used to be warm. Supportive. Fun.
“Making it, honey. Listen, I’ve been praying about our conversation,” her mother admitted. Taylor braced herself for another lecture, another attempt to pull her back into the fold. But her mother surprised her.
“I owe you an apology.”
The wooden spoon stilled in Taylor’s hand. “What did you say, Ma?”
She let out a shaky breath. “Your daddy and I… we put a lot on you, Taylor. Expected you to be perfect when none of us are. Expected you to be something other than yourself.” Her mother’s voice cracked.
“I was so worried about what the church would say, what my friends would say, that I forgot to ask what you needed.”
Tears pricked Taylor’s eyes. “I needed you to believe me. To understand how hard I tried. But a hug would’ve been just enough.”
“I know that now.” A soft sniffle came through the line. “Joani’s daughter is going through something similar, and watching her support her and her grandbabies made me take a hard look at myself. At how I failed you.”
“You didn’t fail me,” Taylor said, voice barely above a whisper.
“I did. But I want to do better.”
Another pause .
“Your daddy’s not quite there yet, but he’ll come around. He’s just stubborn, you know that.”
Taylor laughed, wet and shaky. “Wonder where I get it from.”
Her mother chuckled, and for the first time in a long time, Taylor felt like she was talking to the woman who raised her, not the first lady of the church.
“Listen,” her mother said gently. “When you’re ready, I’d like us to have dinner or lunch. Just us girls. You can tell me everything, and this time, I promise I’ll listen. I been hearing something but I wanna give you that chance before I accuse you.”
Taylor exhaled, letting the moment settle over her. They couldn’t take back what they’d done and said or even how they’d made her feel. But this was a perfect start to reconciliation and healing.
“I’d like that. I have so much to tell you,” she admitted, surprising herself with how much she meant it. And she did. She would wait and tell her mom about Brooks in person. She was already fishing for information and thinking she knew something .
But Taylor couldn’t wait to brag on how he’d been her anchor, in the storm. Some things deserved to be said in person—and this? She was ready to say it with her whole chest.
“I look forward to it. I miss you, Taylor.”