Chapter 29 #2
“Sorry, was just in the shower.” Taylor’s melodic voice carries over the line. “What’s up?”
My lips tip up, both at the thought of her in the shower and at how quickly she called me back.
‘Nothing…” I trail off, hand pushing my hair back away from my forehead. “Just wanted to hear your voice. It’s been a day.”
“I’m really glad you called. I miss you,” Taylor sighs.
I lean back against the brick wall behind me, closing my eyes for a second. I can practically see the small, content smile I hear in her voice.
“Miss you, too, pretty girl. Hey, look… so I’m in San Francisco for a couple of weeks, and I’d love to see you.”
“Wait, what?” There’s a scuffle of noise, like she’s repositioning against one of her ridiculously ruffled pillows.
“Yeah, San Francisco…”
“That’s a lot closer than Vancouver…”
I bite my lip, dancing around what I actually mean to say. I haven’t seen Taylor in over two months, and it’s killing me.
“Come visit.”
It comes out more demanding than I mean it to, but I’m desperate to close this distance that is growing between us.
She sighs. “I don’t know, Alex. I don’t have back-to-back days off ever, and it’s a four-hour drive one way…”
I’m silent for a beat, trying to figure out if she’s hung up on the logistics or if she just doesn’t want to come.
“I’m obviously going to book you a flight,” I say, cautiously. “If you’re willing to come, that is… Please come, Taylor.”
She hums noncommittally, thinking over my offer, while I stand, holding my breath and waiting for her answer.
“Yeah, okay.” Her voice is small. “Let’s find a day that works for both of us.”
?????????
We pick a day that fits both our schedules.
Not ideal for either of us, but the only one we could make work. Nothing about this relationship has been ideal since we left LA, anyway.
She flies in early. I meet her between prep and service training at the restaurant, time carved out where it doesn’t really exist.
I see her before she sees me.
She’s standing near the entrance when I pull up to the pick-up area in a sleek black car, looking around like she’s not sure where she’s supposed to be.
She’s wearing a white sundress that ties behind her neck, and strappy sandals that twist around her ankles.
Her hair is pulled back, and she has vintage-style sunglasses perched on top of her head.
She’s so damn beautiful, it hurts.
For a second, I just watch her.
Then, unable to wait any longer, I get out and circle around the front of the car to where she’s waiting.
When she finally turns, our eyes collide.
And everything else drops out.
I cross the distance without thinking.
She barely has time to smile before I’m pulling her into me, arms tight around her, face pressed into her hair.
She smells like citrus and something sweet I never want to go another day without.
“Hey,” she says, voice soft against my chest.
“Hey.”
I don’t let go right away.
Neither does she.
When we finally pull back, there’s this moment where we just look at each other, taking it all in.
“You’re here,” I say, because I don’t know what else to say.
She huffs out a small laugh. “I’m here.”
I brush my thumbs over her cheeks, committing every curve of her face to memory.
“You look tired,” she adds, studying my face.
“So do you.”
“Rude.” She playfully swats my chest.
I grin. “Accurate.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.
It feels the same and different at the same time, and I can’t quite place why.
I press a soft kiss to her lips, that same watermelon lip gloss meeting me on contact. She pulls back first this time, smudging away the glisten from my lower lip as she does.
In all of the times we’ve been together, I don’t think I’ve ever noticed her pull away from me first. Usually, it’s a mutual drift before diving back in for more.
Maybe we just need some time to get used to each other again. A dull ache forms in my chest at the realization, but what else can I do except give her the time she needs?
“Come on,” I say, quirking an eyebrow and nodding toward the car. “We’ve only got a couple hours.”
“Then let’s not waste a second of them,” she beams, that quintessential Taylor-ness shining through.
Without much time, I zip us over to Burlingame to spend the afternoon together.
We walk along The Ave with no real destination in mind. Just moving together, talking about nothing in particular.
She tells me all about her time at Dolce and how her custom dessert business is starting to take off through social media.
I share the progress Julian and I have been making with Northern Flame, including a tentative grand opening set for this March.
But there’s an awkward discomfort underneath it all now. A slight delay in responses, like we both are choosing our words carefully. A brief moment where we check ourselves before speaking.
At one point, she reaches for my hand.
I take it without hesitation.
Our fingers fit together like they always have.
At least that part hasn’t changed.
We stop at a small place on the corner for coffee and a quick bite. I let her order for both of us, which she gets a kick out of as she orders the quirkiest sandwich on the menu.
I watch her while she talks, catching up on stories I’ve only gotten in fragments over text. Her eyes dance, jaw working against the food in her mouth, while she tells me all the details that were too much to type out.
The burns on her arms.
The customers who recognize her.
The way she lights up when she talks about the bakery, gesturing animatedly with her hands and shimmying around her chair, is infectious.
“You’re happy,” I murmur against my coffee mug, sipping the hot liquid carefully but never taking my eyes off her.
She pauses, then nods. “Yeah. I am.”
“Good.”
And I genuinely mean it.
There’s just a small part of me that wishes I were there to see it and be a part of it. That we weren’t hours away working toward separate dreams when our time in the tent made it so clear how well we work together.
She studies me for a second.
“You are too,” she says, a flicker of something crossing her gaze before she casts her eyes away.
It’s not a question.
I hesitate before answering, “Yeah.”
It’s true, I am happy. It just doesn’t feel complete. I’m getting everything I thought I wanted, and it’s pulling me away from the one thing I didn’t expect to matter this much.
We fall into a quieter moment after that.
“I wish we had more time,” she says eventually, picking at the crust of her sandwich, leaving a flurry of tiny crumbs across her plate.
“I know.”
“I get it,” she adds quickly. “I do. It’s just—”
“I know,” I repeat, softer this time.
She nods, looking down at her cup.
We sit there for a minute without speaking. Then she looks up, forcing a smile. “Show me your restaurant?”
Something in my chest loosens.
“Yeah,” I say. “Okay.”
It’s not finished, but I pull out my phone and start flipping through the progress photos I’ve taken of the renovations. I ramble on and on about the layout, the vision, where everything will go, and she listens like it’s the only thing that matters.
She doesn’t roll her eyes or drift off into her own thoughts like everyone aside from Julian does. She keeps her big, hazel eyes locked on me, smiling and nodding in encouragement.
“That’s going to be incredible,” she says when I’m done.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I nod, looking down at the layout on my phone again. For a second, I picture her there. Flour on her hands, moving through my kitchen like she owns the place.
I don’t say it out loud because I don’t know how that would work, but I tuck the thought away in the back of my mind to ponder later.
My phone buzzes, and I glance down—time’s up.
“Shit,” I mutter, feeling my stomach flip.
Taylor’s eyes go wide. “We have to go?”
“Yeah, I have to get you back to the airport so I can make it to the restaurant on time for service training.” I sigh, pressing my palms to my eyes so hard I see stars.
“It’s okay,” she says, reaching across the table to brush her fingers over my forearm. “My flight isn’t for a while, I think I’ll hang out here for a bit and just Uber back later.”
Unease pools in my gut. I wanted to be the one to drop her off—to steal just a little more time in the car before she’s gone again.
“It’s okay,” she repeats, smiling, excusing herself to the bathroom. All I can do is watch her go, white skirt swishing around her perfectly tanned legs.
While she’s gone, I pay our tab and wait for her at the entrance. I slide my hand across her lower back, leading her out to the main street.
We stand there for a second, neither of us moving.
Then she steps closer, tracing one hand up my chest. A small groan escapes, and I dip, bringing my mouth to hers.
The kiss is slow, intimate, tongues moving together like old friends. I bring both hands up, cupping the back of her head, angling her to deepen it.
She moans into my mouth, tangling her fingers in my hair and pressing her body against mine.
Mindlessly, I undo the clip holding her wild curls in place and attach it to the strap of her bag without breaking the kiss. She smiles against my mouth as my fingers circle her scalp.
When we pull back, my chest is rising a little too fast.
She’s doing her best to hold back tears.
“I’ll text you, I promise.”
“Okay,” she says quietly. I reluctantly start back toward the car, still hating the idea of leaving her to explore without me.
She smiles, raising a small hand in a wave. A single tear breaks free, trailing a hot streak down her cheek.
I hold a hand to my chest and turn for the car door.
I don’t look back.
If I do, I’m not sure I can walk away.