Chapter 18 #2
He tried to keep his voice casual, but she knew him well enough to know there was a lot more going on in his head. She wished he would ask his questions so they could get everything they were feeling out in the open.
Never mind. Chelsey didn’t want to be open with her feelings with honest questions.
Taylor came back with the drinks and set one in front of her before opening his Orange Coke. “It’s hard to find specialty sodas overseas sometimes.” He drank half the can before he wiped his mouth with a napkin.
Chelsey slipped off the barstool, found a spoon, and stirred the soup. The aroma made her stomach rumble noisily again. She took a mug from the cupboard and spooned a little in and gulped the delicious lukewarm soup.
Chelsey leaned her hip against the counter and popped open the can of cream soda, her favorite. Of course Taylor remembered. He used to have one waiting for her almost every day after track practice.
“You really love where you are, don’t you, Tay?” She sipped on the soda, the cool liquid sliding down her throat, chasing the warm tomato soup. The combination wasn’t right, but it was good. Probably because she was starving and dehydrated.
“What do you mean?” He set the can on the counter.
“Your job, where you live—your life overall.”
He picked up the spoon and lazily stirred the soup as he took his time to think about his answer. “I really do love my job. I meet the most fascinating people, visit the most amazing places in the world and eat the best food ever.”
“It’s always about the food with you,” she teased.
“You’re not wrong.” He glanced at her and grinned. “Plus, I get to create art. Most people wouldn’t think of architecture as art, but they’re wrong. Angles and lines come together to create shapes and structure.”
Chelsey tried to cover her stomach as it grumbled loudly again.
“Sorry to bore you.” He glanced at her. “I’d better make these sandwiches quickly.” He grabbed the turner and flipped the sandwiches. Chelsey couldn’t help but notice Taylor’s white knuckles as he gripped the pan handle.
“Whenever you talk about architecture, your whole countenance lights up. Even from the time we first met. I was always jealous of how you knew what you wanted to do with your life and what you were good at doing. You were determined to follow your dreams and look at you. You’re successful.”
He flipped the sandwiches a couple more times, then turned off the heat to the pan.
He leaned against the counter, mimicking her stance.
“You did the same thing. You knew you wanted to plan and execute events for as long as I’ve known you.
You’ve got a talent for seeing the big picture and working out the details.
Plus, you’re amazingly good with people.
Anyone who’s worked with you loves you.”
Was it her imagination, or did he stumble over the word “love”?
“Who am I kidding? The whole town loves you. Your name is synonymous with Juniper Valley. You’ve carved out a place in history here.”
“You’re getting me mixed up with my mom. She’s the real reason Event Planners is successful. Dan will tell you Rhonda Hooper was the heart and soul of the company.”
“But you’re here now. You’re the one working the events.” Taylor took her hands and squeezed them. “Can’t you see? You’ve followed your dreams and you’re successful in so many more ways than I am. You have a huge network of people right here who call you their friend and mentor.”
Chelsey smiled, nodded, and tried to soak in the words he said with a thankful heart. But beneath the gratitude, something inside her fluttered, restless and small, like a bird realizing the door had quietly closed.
This was the moment she should feel triumphant. Instead, she felt…trapped.
She leaned her forehead against the counter and exhaled, long and slow.
A hand touched her arm. “You okay?” Taylor asked.
Chelsey lifted her head. He stood with his hands in his pockets, not intruding, not retreating. Just there.
“I love this town. I love what I do here.” Chelsey folded her arms to cover herself and her vulnerability. “But the way they were looking at me…” She trailed off, searching for the right word. “Like I was theirs without my own identity. I didn’t like how I felt.”
Taylor studied her, reading the space between her words. “Juniper doesn’t ask halfway.”
Chelsey’s throat tightened. “I didn’t say yes yet,” she said, almost defensively. “I mean, not officially.”
Taylor’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes gentled. “I know.”
She studied him then, really studied him under the familiar kitchen lights of the Compton home, looking for disappointment or pressure or quiet resignation. She found none of it. Just presence.
“This scares me,” she admitted. “How okay you’re being.”
“I’m not okay,” he said honestly. “I’m just…careful.”
Chelsey’s heart tugged painfully. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
Silence settled between them, not awkward, just hanging over them.
“I need time,” she said.
Taylor smiled, small and steady. “Then take it.”
Chelsey’s heart soared at his offering. The town had given her a crown. But Taylor had given her space, and the difference mattered more than she wanted to admit.
His eyes dipped to her lips then away. A shiver ran up her arms. The anticipation of kissing Taylor grew each time he glanced at her mouth or leaned in. Without thinking, she straightened and took a tiny step back.
Taylor dropped her hands and turned away from her…again. He reached in the cupboard for paper plates and bowls and set them on the counter by the barstools while she opened the drawer and grabbed two spoons.
The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t easy either.
Taylor invited Chelsey to sit back on the barstool while he filled their bowls with homemade soup.
“You know, it gets lonely on the road or in the air. In all my travels, I only ever wished for a companion who would enjoy discovering the world like I do.”
“You can come visit me any time.” She shook her head.
That’s not what she meant. She traced the different patterns in the countertop and shrugged.
“It’s not like I have a family to come home to.
” Chelsey vocalized her loneliness and suddenly it was there, in the open, vulnerable as she was.
“Don’t get me wrong. I love my little bungalow.
Do you know how much the last developer offered for my land?
I could take a cruise around the world and still have money left over. ”
“It must be hard to have them come and try and haggle over the place that holds so many memories of your family.” He tossed the grilled cheese sandwiches onto plates, handed one to her and pulled up a seat next to her.
“That’s the thing I’m understanding more and more.
” She dipped a corner of her bread in the soup and chewed while she thought of how to explain to someone how lonely it was to try and keep memories alive for herself.
She didn’t need to; she had the home she grew up in and the pictures and keepsakes.
But what if a fire destroyed her place? She’d still have those memories.
It was all temporary, and like life itself, it can be taken in a wink of an eye.
“There are so many good people in our lives, now and in the past. They all contribute to society and do amazing things and then pass away. We don’t forget them, but they aren’t in our day-to-day activities, so their memories tend to soften and fade.
” She turned to Taylor. “Did you know that my great-grandpa built the town’s first sawmill? ”
Taylor leaned in a little, interest sparking like a match catching. “I didn’t know that,” he said, softer now, like the room had shrunk to just the two of them and the quiet hum of the air conditioner. “That’s quite a legacy, Chelsey.”
“But who remembers? There’s a plaque by the remains of the place and sometimes school kids on a field trip will read the sign, but no one alive really knows him anymore.
” She rubbed at her chest, the pain of what she was about to say hurting.
“It will only be another generation before my mom is a mere footnote in the Juniper Valley history book.”
She gave a small shrug, but her smile didn’t quite make it to her eyes “And now it’s just me in a house that echoes if I don’t keep music playing.
” She let out a quiet breath that almost turned into a laugh but didn’t quite make it.
She was confessing more than she ever had before.
“Sometimes I catch myself talking out loud just to break the silence.”
“You shouldn’t have to do that,” he said, his voice firm.
She glanced at him, surprised by the edge in his voice.
“I mean,” he said softer, dragging a hand through his hair, “you deserve more than just memories keeping you company. Memories are great, but they don’t laugh back or argue with you about what movie to watch.”
That earned a real smile, faint but genuine. “You’d argue about movies?”
“Relentlessly,” he said. “I have strong opinions. Possibly terrible ones.”
She huffed out a small laugh, then shook her head “That’s what scares me about leaving,” she admitted. “If I walk away from it, it feels like I’m…letting go of them. Like I’m the one choosing to let the memories fade.”
Taylor shook his head immediately. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”
She raised an eyebrow, waiting.
“I think,” he said slowly, choosing each word like it mattered, “those memories are already part of you. They don’t live in the walls or the land.
They live in the way you talk about your great-grandpa.
” He paused, meeting her eyes. “You could go anywhere in the world, Chelsey, and you’d still carry all of them with you. ”
Her breath caught. Where was this conversation going?