Chapter 8 #3
Taylors smile appeared on her face, she was too focused on her text messages and the five thousand dollars in her bank account that she didn’t notice Kennedi staring her down.
Kennedi’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you smiling at and texting?”
Taylor took another sip, and wiped the smile from her face. “Nobody.”
Paige grinned. “Oh, it’s somebody.”
Kennedi tilted her head. “Tyree, still got you smiling like that after all these years? I know that’s right.”
“Hell no,” Taylor snapped almost breaking her neck to make that clear. Tyree would not be getting any credit for anything. Not even her growth. She drew the line at him getting props. She couldn’t wait to be finally done and free. He didn’t deserve her protection anymore.
Kennedi gasped, smacking the table. “Oop! Trouble in paradise.”
Taylor shook her head, laughing. “Y’all are ridiculous. No, it’s not a new man. It’s the work chat.” she lied.
They studied her for a second before leaning back. “Mmm. Aight. We’ll let it slide…for now.”
The server returned with another round, and Taylor welcomed the distraction. Because one thing was for sure. She wasn’t ready to explain Brooks Bishop texting her and making her smile. That was a story Taylor wasn’t ready to tell. Not when she was still trying to understand it herself.
Hours later, Taylor pulled into her driveway, still buzzing from the night out.
The laughter, the atmosphere, the effortless ease of being surrounded by the women she loved and shared so much history with.
It was exactly what she needed and then some.
It was a reminder that she was still her.
Still fun. Still full of life, even after everything.
She hummed ‘Boots on the Ground’ to herself as she stepped out of the car, the buzz of a good night still clinging to her skin.
They’d laughed and line danced until their legs hurt.
But as she reached her porch, she stopped short.
Several sleek black boxes sat neatly by her front door, a bouquet of white lilies rested on top.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
“What in the world?” She asked as her eyes darted around the quiet street, scanning for movement, for any sign of who had been there. But deep down, she already knew.
Brooks had been there.
Exhaling, she unlocked the door and carried everything inside, her heels clicked against the hardwood as she set the boxes and bags down.
She locked up, kicking off her shoes, and headed upstairs, fingers itching to rip the lids open even as her mind warned her not to read too much into this. But who was she kidding? She was already in too deep.
The first box held a metallic halter backless dress with a thigh split to die for. It was sexy, flirty. It stole her breath before she even lifted it. She held it up in the mirror, watching the material cling to her body like it was chosen with her in mind.
The second box had her sinking onto the edge of the bed, fingers brushing in awe over the soles of Gianvito Rossi heels.
She slipped them on slowly, standing to admire how they hugged her feet like something out of a dream.
She would never blow a bag on shoes, but she was grateful she knew someone who would.
And damn, she loved them.
The next box held a sleek clutch, smooth to the touch and perfectly matched to the dress. She ran her fingers over it, exhaling a sigh she hadn’t even realized she was holding. The last box was lighter. She gave it a little shake, then opened it.
Tom Ford.
One spritz on her wrist and the scent wrapped around her like silk, deep, sensual, grown. It smelled like everything she was trying to step into: freedom, femininity, peace.
Tucked inside the dress box was a folded note. Her hands trembled slightly as she unfolded it .
I want to see you in all of this tomorrow, but especially that smile you’re wearing right now. - Brooks
Taylor let out a shaky breath and sat down, still in those heels, boxes everywhere, her room looking like Saks Fifth.
She thought about the day she had. Her morning first and how she’d finally filed the divorce papers.
About her parents, still in love with the idea of Tyree, asking if she’d done enough.
About smiling through girls’ night, pretending she was okay but bursting at the seams to tell someone about her life.
And then there was Brooks. Showing up like always. No questions. Just pressure. Brooks walked it like he talked it. That was a fact.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Brooks: You made it in yet?
She smiled, slow, spent, grateful.
Of course he’d text. That earlier check-in was just the setup.
This was the real play. And he’d executed it like only he could. This time it was her chance to end the text chain with a Facetime call. She wanted to be the one who showed up this time.
The screen rang once.
And then there he was.
He was home—she could tell by the familiar walls behind him, the durag low on his forehead, and those black-rimmed glasses he only wore when he was winding down.
Taylor removed her scrunchie letting her hair, bounce everywhere as she leaned into the camera, her eyes soft.
But his softer .
“You been drinking Tay?”
“No. Well, yes but I only had one lemon drop. I’m not a hypocrite,” she said, a subtle smile tugging at her lips.
“I believe you,” he said, leaning back slightly. “You enjoy yourself tonight? Y’all was shaking ass and being hot?”
“I did… but let’s talk about my gifts. You don’t get away.” Her voice warmed as she flipped her camera, showing off her freshly polished pink toes nestled in the heels he’d picked out for her. “These are everything. You surprise me all the time Brooks.”
He chuckled low, the sound rolling through the speaker. “You look good in ‘em. Better than I imagined. And really, I surprise you?”
She bit her lip, turning the camera back to her face. “Yes, but not in a bad way. The dress is beautiful, everything is perfect.”
“Put it on and let me see,” he said simply, his eyes not leaving hers.
The air between them thickened, but neither pulled away. He was testing her.
Taylor tucked her knees to her chest, resting her chin there. “Why do you always go all out?”
“You changing the subject huh?”
Silence stretched between them. She glanced at the time, then sighed. “I should let you go. It’s late.”
“Yeah… yeah,” he said, but neither one of them moved to end the call.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “Tomorrow night will be a good night. I promise.”
She smiled again, slower this time, the kind that felt earned, not forced.. “I trust you. So uhm, goodnight, Brooks.”
He held her gaze a beat longer. “Night, Tay.”
Her smile faded as the quiet wrapped around her. Funny how joy always made room for grief, even when you didn’t invite it.
That ache in her chest, the one she thought she’d buried deep always crept up around her birthday.
And no matter how far she got from Tyree, that night still lived under her skin. He’d ruined a day that had always been celebrated. That was the night she realized she was on her own, even when she wasn’t alone.
Taylor lit a candle in the bathroom, letting the vanilla scent settle in the air as she blended foundation into her skin. The bathroom counter was cluttered with her favorite makeup, rare these days, but tonight was different.
It was her birthday.
She’d slipped into a slate blue dress that she’d saved up for. Spent extra time curling her hair. Put on the heels she only wore for special occasions. Tyree had promised dinner, promised a night just for them. Said he was making it special.
“I got reservations and everything,” he’d told her that morning, kissing her cheek while barely looking up from his phone. “You ain’t gotta worry ‘bout nothin’. Just be ready.”
She’d been ready.
She was still ready.
And now, two hours past the time he told her to be dressed, she was in their bedroom alone, pacing the floor with a slowly sinking feeling in her gut. Her phone buzzed just once. A text. Not him .
Princess: Girl, I think I just saw your man at Alley Kat. He gon off that oil. You better go get him before they throw him out.
Her throat tightened. She didn’t even respond.
Instead, she grabbed her keys and her coat. The dress stayed on. So did the heels. She drove across town in silence, hands tight on the wheel, stomach in knots. Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe he’d stopped for a drink and lost track of time. Maybe…
No.
It was him.
She saw Tyree before she even stepped all the way inside.
She spotted him slumped at the bar. Laughing too loud.
Slurring something to a woman whose name he probably didn’t know.
A half-empty bottle of cheap Vodka on the bar.
The same man who told her to “trust him” this morning had been pouring his attention somewhere else all night.
Taylor didn’t make a scene. Didn’t yell. She simply walked over, touched his arm, and said his name low.
“Tyree.”
He blinked at her like he’d forgotten who she was.
“Oh shit... T, what you doing here?”
Her birthday.
The one night she thought she’d feel seen. All she wanted was effort.
She didn’t answer him. Just helped him out of the bar, heels clicking angrily against the pavement. He reeked of vodka, sweat, and selfishness. She buckled him into the passenger seat and drove home in silence.
“I’m sorry. I got fired today. I needed to take the edge off.”
He said before passing out on the couch .
She went upstairs alone.
Peeled off the dress in the dark. Sat on the edge of the tub and stared aimlessly at the wall. It wasn’t about the dinner, not really. It was about this being a recurring theme.
She slept in the guest room that night.
That next morning, she waited for an apology, a real apology, not a sorry, but... And it never came. He never even mention ed it.
He just scrolled like nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t been an afterthought. Like she deserve to be celebrated.
That was the moment something in her started to unravel. The beginning of the emotional one sided goodbye. The first real seed of knowing she couldn’t keep doing this.
That night had been the beginning of the end.
And now, two years later, she was still learning how to choose herself. Whatever Brooks was doing scared her, but she couldn’t help but lean into it. The line in the sand blurring day by day.