Chapter 8
WEDNESDAY
THAT DAY RANG in Taylor’s ears. The words and the memory and the emotions all rang in his ears. Did Chelsey know what day he referred to? How could she not? Or maybe that day he left without a word was harder on him than on Chelsey.
Taylor caught Chelsey’s gaze. The questions—and pain—flashed across her face.
The night of high school graduation he’d confided in his dad about proposing to Chelsey over the summer.
His dad encouraged him to wait, give it a year, grow up, and see the world first. Taylor’s dad knew a guy that would help get Taylor in an exchange program overseas.
Taylor took his dad’s advice and did an exchange program in Japan and fell in love with traveling.
He wanted to share the world—literally—with Chelsey, but she told him she wanted to continue her career with Event Planners.
That was the moment Taylor’s trajectory changed; he and Chelsey wanted different things out of life.
Mostly, she wanted a small town; he wanted the world.
He wouldn’t take her dreams away from her. He loved her too much. So he left to let her live her life the way she wanted. He thought it would be better to cut all ties with Chelsey Hooper and go cold turkey on his feelings for her.
“What day, Tay?” Chelsey asked quietly.
The day I changed our lives forever. “The day I left for Japan.”
Chelsey sat all the way up. Taylor let his hand slide off her back. “I’m not sure this is the time or place to hash out the bygones.”
Taylor gently took one of her hands. “I’d like to tell you what happened.”
When she didn’t pull away, Taylor took it as a positive sign to continue. Sitting here among the mess was less than ideal, but he wanted to come clean on his imminent departure.
Chelsey finally nodded but she wouldn’t look at him. She slowly pulled her hand away and clasped them both in her lap. Her white knuckles didn’t escape his notice. “Can you tell me the two-minute version?”
“I’ll do my best.” He turned so he faced her better.
He’d thought about this conversation a lot over the years. He’d planned—and discarded—scenario after scenario and never came up with words that would heal years of pain.
He cleared his throat. He needed to hit the main points quickly.
“I was only going to work in Japan for the summer then come back here.” He dropped his gaze.
“The last week of the exchange program one of the professors I’d interned with recommended me to an architecture firm in Japan that also had several firms here in the U.S.
The only caveat was I needed to work in the foreign office for a year.
I came home to talk to you about it, but I lost my courage when I saw how happy you were in Juniper, especially working alongside your mom and—”
Chelsey locked gazes with him. “Are you blaming me—”
Taylor held up his hands. “I didn’t want you to give up the things that seemed to make you the happiest.” I didn’t trust that you’d understand. Or worse…that you would, and I’d stay.”
That pulled her eyes back to his. “You might have stayed?”
“You were kind of hard to walk away from.”
Chelsey’s lips pressed together, fighting something—maybe a smile, maybe something heavier.
She looked away again, toward the families clustered near the playground. “You don’t get to say things like that so easily.”
“I’m not saying it easily.”
“It sounds easy.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “It’s not. None of this is.”
Chelsey glanced away. Taylor wanted to sweep a strand of hair off her face, but he wasn’t sure his touch would be welcomed at the moment. He hated seeing the vulnerability in her eyes.
“I went to talk with your mom to feel out the situation, to see if she’d give her blessing for you to travel with me.
And do you know what she said to me?” Taylor swept the hair behind Chelsey’s ear anyway.
This might be the last time he’d be this near to her.
Chelsey might hate him after this talk and shove him firmly in the “acquaintance zone.” Forget “friend.”
“‘There is always a surprise,” Chelsey said softly. “‘All you have to do is make it a positive one.’”
Taylor nodded. “The surprise I talked to your mom about was the Japanese company wanting to double my income if I’d fly back immediately. They even sent their private jet to pick me up.”
“Is this your “positive” take-away for leaving me without a goodbye?” She used air quotes as she spoke.
“No. I was planning—”
“Hey, Chels?” Janice waved at her from the back door. “There’s a mix-up with tablecloths?”
Chelsey swore under her breath as she rose unsteadily to her feet. Taylor held out a hand to help her, but she waved him off.
“Can we continue this later?” he asked.
“Look, Taylor.” Taylor’s heart sank at the finality of her words.
“You made the best decision for you that affected both of us positively in the end. Though at the time, it didn’t feel the best to me.
” She waved her hands around the area. “I’m happy here.
I really am. I love keeping my mom’s legacy alive. ”
Chelsey gave him a quick hug. “Thank you for letting me know what happened when you came back and thank you for your help today.” She walked away without a backwards glance.
Taylor dropped his head in his hands. He didn’t want to scare Chelsey off with the thought that she’d given him an out when she suggested it wasn’t the time to “hash out bygones.” Maybe he should leave now and not bother Chelsey, or distract her, anymore.
No more talk of the past or what could’ve been.
“The tablecloths are finally here.” Wendy looked around. “Where did Chelsey go?”
Taylor ran a hand through his hair. “She went to check on them.”
“She’s always a step ahead of me.” Wendy looked him over. “If you see her first, will you let her know I’ve gone around to the front?”
Taylor stood. He needed a distraction. “Do you need some help?”
She shooed him away. “No, hon. I’ve already rounded up a crew. You’d better sit and rest. You don’t look so good.” She studied him a moment longer. “You and Chelsey okay?”
Were his emotions so easy to read on his face? “For now, I guess.”
Wendy put her hands on her hips. “Be careful with her heart. It’s still healing.”
Somehow, her words buoyed him, because they were true. “I’ll do my best.”
Wendy took a step closer. “But if you hurt her again, you’d better not show your face around here for the next fifty years, or until I’m dead.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Taylor didn’t doubt her words. The woman could be terrifying, but for all her toughness, he saw how well she took care of Chelsey.
How had he gotten in so deep emotionally already? Was he ready to make a commitment? A commitment to stay in JV?
He went outside to try and clear his head. He should find Chelsey and finish their conversation. Why did it feel like he running in a sprinting marathon?
Chelsey opened the back door and asked if he’d help Annie and her crew. “A free helping of strawberries and cream for you.”
Taylor cleared his throat. “Before I help, I just wanted to let you know—”
A cacophony of crashes—metal-on-metal, a hollow clang followed by a wet, sliding splat—and startled cries echoed from inside the event center.
“What the—” Taylor broke into a run toward the back door with Chelsey right on his heels.
Taylor took a step inside, then immediately threw an arm out to block her. “Don’t come any closer until we can make sense of this mess. No one else needs to get hurt.”
Chelsey leaned against the doorframe with a gasp.
To say it was a disaster was a severe understatement. The room looked like a dessert storm had torn through it.
A long table near the center had been knocked sideways. Metal racks—usually lined with neat trays of strawberries—were tipped over in a jagged line, as if something had plowed straight through them.
Strawberries were everywhere—whole, sliced—and crushed on the floor. The sticky mess was smeared across tabletops, streaked along the stairs and staining the walls.
Cream pooled in glossy white puddles, gurgling from split plastic jugs that lay on their sides, still slowly emptying with a soft glup…glup…glup.
A toppled utility cart lay on its side near the middle of the chaos—one wheel still spinning slightly.
Taylor’s eyes tracked the scene, trying to stitch together what had happened.
Chelsey’s hand flew to her mouth at the same time Taylor spotted the crew. At least three of Annie’s crew were down flat on the floor and all of them streaked in cream and strawberry residue.
“This isn’t happening,” Chelsey said. “Not now. Not just a few days before the auction.”
“Sammy? Are you okay?” Annie stood in the doorway of the kitchen, her face drained of color, one hand gripping the doorframe like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
Taylor followed Annie’s gaze.
Her son, Sammy, lay near the overturned cart, one leg bent under him and his shirt soaked through with cream. He pushed himself up slowly. He shook his head, sending droplets of cream flying. “I-I’m okay. I think.”
“Nobody move.” Chelsey held up both hands as she stepped just inside the door, careful to avoid the slick patches. “Don’t try to stand yet. The floor’s hazardous.”
Annie gripped the doorframe with white knuckles as her gaze moved over the area. “What happened, Sammy?”
“I was bringing in a load,” he said, his voice cracking. “I think I stacked the crates too high and the top one tipped.”
“And when you went down,” Taylor continued, piecing it together, “the crate hit the racks.”
“I think I twisted my ankle when I stepped on a strawberry that someone dropped.” Sammy’s face fell as he took in the mess. His face crumbled. “It was probably me. I should’ve made two trips.”
Chelsey took a careful step forward. “Hey. Look at me.”
Sammy glanced at her.
“We’ll figure it out,” she said. “This is just a messy, strawberry-covered, inconvenient accident, but still an accident.”
Taylor stepped next to Chelsey. “We need to make sure everyone’s okay.”