Chapter 34
Taylor
Routine is not a word I’ve ever considered using when thinking about my life.
In fact, it’s been my enemy for a long time.
The traditional nine-to-five, the marriage at twenty-two with two-point-five children and a dog, working just to buy shit I don’t need to keep up with people I don’t like makes me feel itchy and claustrophobic.
The American dream isn’t the dream I want to chase.
Yet, here I am, pulling my phone out to text my boyfriend that I’ve landed safely…as is my routine.
And honestly? It doesn’t feel bad.
I want to do it.
I crave Knox’s reply, which comes almost immediately.
Knox
I’m so happy you’re safe and back home. I’ll wrap up here and meet you at your place.
Knox makes routine feel good. Safe and secure in a way I haven’t felt since being blindsided.
For the sake of my and Knox’s relationship, I’ve really been working on letting the past go.
He even encouraged me to talk to a therapist, which was not something I’d expected, but his argument had been valid.
So, over the last several weeks, I’ve been working on overcoming the fears that remain after my breakup with Patrick, and I’ve been working up the courage to tell the rest of my family that Knox and I are seeing each other.
As Thanksgiving approaches, it’s really fucking hard not to slip into the Doomsday mindset. After all, Patrick and I had planned to tell our families about our relationship over the holidays, too…we just happened to get outed before we had the chance.
For once, I’m not on a red-eye flight, and it’s four in the afternoon as we taxi to the gate. I go through the motions of filling out the paperwork after the flight, clocking out, and making the long trek to the employee lot, my excitement over going home to Knox ramping up the entire drive home.
Pulling my BMW into my apartment complex, my heart flips when I see Knox’s truck already in the lot.
I grab my suitcase out of the trunk, lock up, and hit the elevator.
When the doors open, Knox is on the other side holding a single long-stemmed rose that looks like it’s been dipped in gold powder. We’d exchanged keys several weeks ago, and it felt so right, it was almost scary.
“What’s this?” I ask, stepping off the elevator.
Instead of answering me, Knox says, “Christ, I love seeing you in this uniform.”
My navy-blue pants have a skinny leg and a tapered ankle. A white, short-sleeved button-down is under a navy-blue fitted vest. Admittedly, my white shirt is probably a size too small and it hugs my arms, but what can I say? I like to look good at thirty-five thousand feet.
“You love seeing me out of it, too,” I flirt, grabbing the flower and kissing my boyfriend.
“You’re damn right, I do,” Knox replies, taking the handle of my suitcase for me as he leads me down the hallway to my apartment. When he opens the door, the first thing I notice is the painting he and I made a few months ago hanging on the living room wall.
“Ohmygod, I love it. Thank you so much for hanging it!” The color scheme doesn’t exactly match, but it’s perfect, nonetheless.
“Sorry it took me so long to get it up,” Knox apologizes.
“Baby, it doesn’t ever take you long to get it up,” I reply with a wink. “Are you going to tell me what the flower and act of service is for, or are you going to let me continue thinking the worst?”
“Flowers,” he says, emphasizing the s. “And nothing’s wrong, so stop thinking bad things.”
I turn around to look where he nodded and see a vase with eleven more golden roses. Suddenly, he’s at my back, his hands wrapped around me, working to open the buttons on my vest and untucking my shirt so he can lay his palms flat against my stomach.
“Happy three-month anniversary,” he whispers against my ear.
Be still, my fucking heart.
I turn in his arms and wrap my own around his neck.
Why am I crying?
“Why are you crying, Princess?” Knox echoes a second later.
“I’m not crying, you’re crying,” I say into his neck even as my tears paint his skin.
Knox just laughs and holds me while I cling to him. I’m sure my mascara is a mess at this point, but I can’t bring myself to care.
“Is it too much?” he asks softly, finally causing me to pull back, wiping my fingers under my eyes.
“No, it’s not too much. It’s perfect.”
The relief in his smile is devastating as he cups my cheek with one of his hands. “Good. In that case, I was hoping you’d go out to dinner with me tonight? And then maybe we could hit the karaoke bar where it all started?”
I’m practically vibrating with excitement.
“I got reservations at Saltgrass and Sage for six,” he informs me.
I check my phone. Just enough time to grab a shower and redo my entire look.
Knox is ready by the time I come out of the bathroom. I can’t wait for him to see the lacy, red boy-short underwear I have on under my camel-colored tweed pants. Although the way he’s eyeing the star-shaped cutouts in the cream sweater I have on, who knows if we’ll even make it to dinner.
“I love it when you give me a tease of your skin. Is this new?” he asks, placing kisses over my exposed collarbone.
My balls throb as his beard scratches the skin lightly.
As soon as his hand reaches for the button on my pants, I stop him.
“Don’t make me be the bad guy. You made reservations and promised me a night of karaoke.”
Knox kisses my cheek.
“Why I ever thought leaving this apartment was a good idea, I’ll never know,” he pouts adorably, pulling me toward the door.
I warm up my voice on the way to dinner, serenading Knox with every Eagles song on his playlist. Definitely not my first choice, but hey, relationships are about compromise, right?
Knox upgrades to valet service tonight since we’re celebrating, and I feel like the princess he says I am. My hazel eyes are popping tonight thanks to my fresh eyeliner, and my rhinestones are smaller and only at the corners of my eyes.
As I hop out of Knox’s truck, one of the valet boys eyes me like I just saved his soul from the fiery pits of hell.
Knox takes notice, and I hear him grumble, “Oh, hell no,” right before his massive hand lands on the back of my neck, steering my mouth straight to his as he throws his keys to the guy.
When we break apart, the valet looks Knox up and down before shrugging, totally unbothered by his display of possession. “You look like you could handle us both.”
Instead of weirding Knox out or getting all up in his head, Knox’s eyes never leave me as he snorts. “I can barely handle this one.”
If he keeps this shit up, I’ll be proposing by the end of the fucking night.
I’ve never been to this restaurant before, but I love the vibe. Dim lighting, real candles on the tables, real linen tablecloths, and napkins. As it’s early November, the décor is done in fall colors, and their featured cocktails are heavier and fall-themed.
The hostess leads us to a table by the wall that separates the banquet rooms from the main restaurant, and Knox rushes forward to pull my chair out.
He guides me into it with a hand on my back and a kiss to my head.
The gesture causes several side-eye glances to be thrown our way from patrons at neighboring tables, but Knox doesn’t change anything about his actions or affection toward me.
Opening the menu, I notice how much attention has been paid to every detail. The paper is thick, and the leather covers are clean and heavy. The specials are typed on a separate sheet of paper held in place by small elastic bands at the bottom of the first page.
“Have you been here before?” I ask Knox. Before he can answer, I follow up with, “What’s good?”
“I’ve never been here,” he says with a soft smile, reaching across the table for my hand. “I wanted to make new memories in new places.”
The waitress returns a few minutes later and takes the hefty menus after we place our order, and I grab Knox’s hand again.
I lean forward to kiss his knuckles just as a large party is exiting the banquet room next to our table. Loud, arrogant men in suits emerge, not caring about the disruption they’re causing to the quiet ambiance around them.
And then a laugh that has haunted my dreams for almost a year rings through the air.
I freeze, my body going tense.
There’s nowhere to hide, and if I get up now, I’ll surely draw attention to myself.
“Taylor, what’s wrong? Your hands are shaking,” Knox points out.
Words evade me.
I sit stock still, keeping my head down, waiting for the men to file past our table. I tick them off one by one, counting the pairs of legs that pass.
Until one of them stops right next to us.
“Oh my God. Taylor.”
The shock and pain Patrick manages to put into the syllables of my name rip my scabs wide open.
As soon as I raise my head to look at him, I wish I hadn’t.
Salt-and-pepper hair sits atop a beardless face I know so well.
Patrick is older than Knox by a couple of years, and he seems to have aged even more during our time apart, but he’s no less handsome.
Suddenly, movement catches my eye, and I look down to watch in horror as a hand comes into view. A hand that has wrung pleasure from my body. A hand that has intimate knowledge of all my lines and ridges. A hand that is now touching my arm.
“Don’t touch him,” Knox hisses from across the table.
Instead of listening, Patrick leaves his hand in place and squats down next to my chair, causing Knox to push his chair away from the table and stand. The legs scraping against the floor draw more stares.
“Taylor, I—"
“Get your fucking hands off my boyfriend,” Knox growls, skirting the table.
“It’s time to go, Patrick,” he adds, crowding his space and pulling Patrick up by his sport coat.
He lowers his voice to try to keep this private, but I can still hear every word.
“He doesn’t want to see you. You had your chance, you lost it, and you won’t be getting another one because I’m not stupid enough to throw away the best thing that’s ever happened to me. ”
“Taylor can speak to whomever he pleases.” Turning his gaze back to me as I stare straight ahead, Patrick takes the bite out of his voice and says, “Please. Call me?” Patrick’s plea finally breaks me out of my dazed state, and I whip my head toward him.
“Call you? I did call you, Patrick! For months!”
“Enough, Taylor. Let’s just go home.” Knox’s hands land on my shoulders, and before I can protest, he’s ushering me toward the door with Patrick hot on our heels, pissing me off with every step he takes in our wake.
I want to escape as quickly as possible, but as soon as we descend the stairs leading away from the front door, I see the valet stand and realize we have to wait for the truck.
I’m so hurt and mad, and I wish I could just take comfort in Knox’s arms, let him shield me from this whole interaction, but right now, I’m just overwhelmed, and the more they argue with each other, the more I want to run.
My brain is choosing now to call into sharp relief all the good moments Patrick and I shared. The intimate moments. The times we laughed and played and fucked, and my steps falter for the slightest second as if my feet mean to carry me backward toward my past.
“Don’t fall for it,” Knox pleads like he can hear my thoughts as he pushes me toward the truck the valet has already retrieved.
I felt like royalty when we arrived, but now I feel reduced to a scandal being chased by the paparazzi.