Chapter 22
Taylor checked her lip gloss for the third time, flipping the Range Rover’s visor back up. Her curls were still in place, her lashes still full, and yet, her nerves were threatening to unseat every bit of calm she’d tried to wrap herself in.
Beside her, Brooks tapped the steering wheel with an easy rhythm, but his stillness was telling. He was letting her sit with her feelings, but the patience had an edge tonight.
“You done stalling?” His voice cut through the silence, low and smooth with just a hint of amusement.
“I’m not stalling,” she said, adjusting her jacket even though it didn’t need it.
Usually, she was the first one in Blake’s house. Laughing, talking trash in the kitchen, knowing where everything was like she lived there. But tonight, everything felt… heavy. She and Brooks hadn’t exactly announced anything, but they hadn’t been hiding either.
Showing up together like this, arm in arm, in front of the people who mattered most, it made the feelings real in a way she hadn’t prepared for. Taylor hadn’t even thought about what she’d say.
She hadn’t thought through what she’d say.
Hadn’t rehearsed .
Hadn’t even talked it out with Blake.
She just knew she might feel like a fish out of water.
Brooks turned toward her, catching her restless hands in his.
“Taylor, what’s holding you back? You scared to be seen with me?”
“No.” She shook her head quickly.
“I just... I don’t know what Blake is gonna say. Knowing is one thing, but seeing it? Whole different story.”
Brooks’ neck grew tense.
Here she was again, letting other people’s opinions dictate how she moved. He’d spent months showing her she could live for herself, that she deserved to. And every time he thought she got it; she found a new way to shrink.
“That what you running from? People seeing what’s real between us?”
“I’m not running,” she snapped, her irritation bubbling up. She hated it when he said she was running. But they both knew better. “Don’t say I’m running. You met my parents. We’ve got stuff at each other’s places. We know each other’s codes.”
She was right, but she was still stalling.
And he knew it. She didn’t know that her answer to moving in with him had been sitting heavy on his chest ever since he asked her last week.
She told him she loved her house. Claimed she wasn’t ready.
And while he nodded and let it go, truth was, it didn’t sit right.
It still didn’t. He just hadn’t said that part out loud yet.
Home was with him.
Home was when they were together .
“A hit dog gon holler,” He muttered.
“Really?” She questioned, narrowing her eyes.
“Really. You keep playing with me and I’m going to have your ass gagged and bound.”
Things still felt casual to him. The way his heart clenched every time she looked at him like she was looking now caught between wanting to stay and needing to flee was why he hadn’t said anything.
Through the window, they could see Blake and Emon moving around the kitchen together, so in sync it looked like dancing.
The easy way they touched, laughed, existed in each other’s space, it made something in Brooks’ chest ache.
That could be him and Taylor, if she’d just let it.
If she’d quit running. If she’d allow herself to trust him.
He’d asked her to move in with him, give them a title, something and she hadn’t.
He wasn’t mad, but he wasn’t sure why she insisted on making this about everything but them.
“I just...” Taylor started, then stopped, chewing her bottom lip.
Brooks exhaled through his nose, then shifted in his seat so he was fully facing her. He let his hand trace slow up her thigh, stopping just above her knee.
“You just what?” His thumb brushed across her knuckles, encouraging.
“I don’t know what we are,” she whispered finally.
Brooks exhaled slowly, fighting the urge to shake some sense into her. “We’re whatever we say we are. Everybody else gets to love freely. I plan on doing the same.”
“Ok. Ok. Let’s go and do this.”
Brooks stepped out and came around to her door, the gentleman in him winning out over his frustration. When she slipped her hand into his, their fingers lacing together like they were made to fit, he felt some of his tension ease.
Inside, the house smelled like Blake had been cooking since yesterday, greens, cornbread, mac and cheese, chicken and more. The kind of food that healed your spirit and made you unbutton your jeans before you even made your plate. Everyone was in attendance, even Emon’s cousin Giovanni.
“Damn, sis, you showed out,” Brooks said as they walked in, his voice filled with pride.
Taylor caught Blake’s eyes from across the room, and for a moment, there was nothing but warmth. Blake smiled wide and pulled her into a hug. If there was tension, it wasn’t showing.
“You good?” She asked quietly.
“I’m good,” he replied, but his eyes drifted to Taylor, who was already being pulled into conversation with Emon.
“It’s time you get your shit together with Taylor, no? This could be y’all.”
“Taylor needs to get her shit together with me, ya dig?” he said, following the woman he had been chasing for months as she moved through the living room.
Blake followed his gaze and smirked. “Mmhmm. I see. My friend making you work for it. Wanna talk about it?”
“No, so mind your business,” Brooks muttered, but there was no heat in it. He moved to the counter, grabbing a beer from the cooler. Blake liked to meddle like Janine from Abbott Elementary and he didn’t need her in his love life. There needed to be a boundary, so this wasn’t weird .
On the other side of the room, Taylor tried to focus on what Emon was saying about his second community pantry, but Brooks’ eyes were on her again. That heavy, heated gaze she’d come to know too well. The kind that made her forget what she was supposed to be doing.
“Ayo,” Emon said, snapping his fingers once, sharp and direct.
“Y’all got it bad, huh?” Taylor blinked and laughed lightly, embarrassed.
She opened her mouth to deflect, to apologize, but he cut her off.
“What’s the problem? I see how he looks at you.
Reminds me of the way I used to look at Blake when we were still pretending . ”
Taylor sighed and stirred her drink, eyes locked on the melting ice. “I think I just got used to keeping parts of myself tucked away. Hiding the good stuff. Protecting it before it could get stepped on.”
Emon nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. “Ain’t nothing wrong with moving cautious. But don’t let that shit rob you of what’s real.”
She looked up at him, a little startled by how direct that landed. Brooks now near, dapping up Emon, pulling a chair into the dining area like he’d always belonged. Taylor drifted toward the kitchen island, finding herself next to Paige, who immediately smirked.
“So y’all just walking in here together like you ain’t been sneaky for the last few months?”
Taylor smiled but didn’t deny it.
“Grown.”
“Mmhm,” Paige muttered, sipping from her wine glass. “I hope you’re ready for the Blake Bishop interrogation. I seen her warm the fuck up with Emon. You? She gon’ bring the heat.”
“I’m not hiding anymore.”
Within ten minutes of arriving Blake was requesting that everyone wash their hands and prepare to eat.
“Sis, it’ like six of us. Why you cook so much food? Got it looking like the last supper.”
“I told her ass it was too much food. She cooked enough to feed a small village. She don’t listen.”
“Please,” Blake waved him off, but her smile was pleased. “Now somebody say grace so we can eat.”
Taylor bowed her head and prayed for and over her friends and family.
She thanked God for the food and the hands that prepared it.
Silently, she thanked God for being there with Brooks next to her, his thigh pressed against hers under the table.
When his hand found her knee, squeezing gently, she grinned.
This man was going to be the death of her.
Everyone echoed, “Amen”, and then plates were being passed, conversations flowing easily around the table. Blake had shown out. Laughter bounced through the house as friends and family gathered, and for a second, Taylor thought she could breathe.
Until Blake opened her mouth.
“So Taylor,” she said casually, “how’s being divorced feel?”
Taylor stiffened, but she caught herself. She reached for her wine glass, steady. “Actually, it’s been a process, but it’s been peaceful. Tyree signed the papers without any drama. I got my final decree a few weeks ago. I was already done before that though.”
Brooks didn’t say a word, just grinned. She grinned also. She knew. They both knew why Tyree had played nice, because Brooks made it very clear what would happen if he didn’t. And the crazy part? She didn’t mind. When she got with a big dawg letting him off his leash happened at times.
Blake grinned— that grin. The one that meant she was about to stir the pot just because she could. “Good. You deserve better than that mess. Speaking of better... y’all look good together.”
“Friend, you so nosey. I swear,” Taylor said, laughing.
But she didn’t deny it.
Not this time.
Not when Brooks had his hand on her thigh under the table, grounding her, reminding her that this was her life now.
“Let them be,” Emon said, not looking up from his plate. “They’ll figure it out in their own time.”
“Fine, but I’m keeping my eyes on y’all. So handle yourself accordingly.”
Paige rolled her eyes, smirking. “And what you gonna do girl? Go see the lady for them.”
“Bitch, go to hell,” Blake laughed and so did Taylor.
The conversation shifted to lighter things finally. Graduation talk, pantry updates, summer plans.
“I was thinking,” Blake said, pouring more wine with her usual flair, “we should all go to the Jazz Festival this summer. Rooftop at The Brownstone. Whole city view.”
“I’m down,” Emon said immediately, already grinning at her like she hung the moon.