“Are your parents in Roosevelt?” my dad asks, and Taylor’s shaking hand grabs a hold of her water glass.
“Just my dad. My mom died when I was twelve.” She downs a gulp of water while my stomach churns for never having asked her.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” My dad sounds genuine.
“Thank you.” Taylor’s voice is so low I barely recognize it without the chipper tone it usually holds.
Emerson’s squeal breaks the silence filling our table. I turn in my seat to find her with a basketball in her hand, throwing it into a small net. My mom claps and Emerson does it again, enticing that squeal once more. My daughter might be the most beautiful little girl in the world, though I’m a bit biased. My mom’s eyes meet mine, and all the regrets I’ve felt after talking with my dad disappear. Happiness shines from her eyes right to my heart and I don’t want that taken away from her.
Taylor swivels in her chair and our eyes lock. Hers aren’t quite as happy as mine. Actually, there’s worry and apprehension in them.
“I’m going over there.” She stands and picks up her dish.
I take it from her hands. “I’ve got it, go.”
She doesn’t respond, but moves swiftly over to the floor. In a second, Emerson is on her lap and long forgotten is the basketball hoop and ball. My mom gives them a tight smile, but I can see her confusion. I feel the same way. What changed within Taylor in one swish of a basketball net?
Taylor
I SIT ON THE FLOOR and Em plops down onto my lap, like I knew she would. Watching her so ecstatic and already comfortable with Maggie, makes alarm bells go off inside me. Brad’s family has money and with money there’s power. They have another thing coming if they believe they are going to steal her from me.
Em plays with the blocks between my legs and I sense Maggie’s eyes teetering between Em and me. She’s my daughter, and the sooner I make that clear, the better.
Brad’s mom hands Em one of the blocks that escaped her hands and slides a little closer to us.
“She’s very beautiful, Taylor.” Her voice is low, almost like she’s cautious now.
“Thank you. She has Brad and Piper’s eyes.”
“Yes, if you are up for it later, I’d love to show you their baby pictures. There’s a lot of similarities in Emerson.” She leans her back along the sofa, scooting next to me. “You’ve done a great job with her.” She pats my leg and I wish the motherly approval didn’t pull that guilt for invading their private play time to the forefront.
“Thank you.” Those two words seem to be the only ones in my language currently.
“Would you mind going to lunch tomorrow so we can talk? Give Brad and Chris some alone time with her.” She looks down at my hands and I curl my fingers into my palms. “Maybe we could get manicures.”
Either the Ashby’s are trying to suck up to me or she’s just nice; either way, it sounds lovely and so does she. “Sure.”
Her eyes express complete surprise, as though she never thought in a million years I would accept her invitation.
“Great. I’m going to call for reservations right now.” She stands and waltzes back into the kitchen.
I’m not alone for a minute before Brad plops down shoulder to shoulder with me on the floor and kidnaps Em from between my legs. She laughs and her small hand brushes the fresh stubble of hair along his cheek. I’ve noticed she does it a lot now, like he’s her little security blanket.
Brad jokes that he’s going to put all the blocks in the plastic container and she slaps his hand.
“Hey, you’ve got Daddy’s temper.” He laughs and peers over at me, his eyes shining with pride.
“That she does,” I confirm, and Brad wraps his arm around me.
I stiffen from the affection with his parents only a room away.
“Will you go out with only me tomorrow night?” he whispers, and if I thought my body was stiff a second ago, I was dead wrong. I’m a damn ironing board now.
“What about Em?” My eyes fixate on her, focusing on the small curls at the base of her neck that I refuse to cut off.
“My parents will watch her. They raised me.” He’s so carefree about the same thought that makes me fearful to a degree I’m not comfortable with.
“I don’t know. Can we see how it goes?”
“Why? They are good people, Taylor. You can trust them.”
Isn’t this the way it always is with Brad? He’s impulsive and wants what he wants when he wants it. But he’s asking me to leave my daughter with people I didn’t meet until today.
“I said maybe.”
Em walks back to the basketball hoop and he turns to me, taking my hand in his. My eyes ping from corner to corner. “If we’re going to give us a chance, we need to go out just the two of us. Taylor, I want to be with you, free of distractions.” Tears threaten to escape, because in all the years I’ve waited for those words, now it comes with a condition. Being in the house with the people I fear could take my daughter away from me has those walls from two years ago building at a pace faster than I can rationally tear them down.
I nod, mostly because I want him to remove his hands from my face in front of his parents. I’m not used to showing any type of affection in front of parents.
“So, it’s settled. Me and you on a date tomorrow night.” He winks. “I’ve been waiting too long to get you alone, Taylor Delaney.” My stomach flips, but I press my hand down to calm it down. Brad hasn’t proven anything.
The doorbell rings and I jump before Brad’s hands tighten around my head. Footsteps move to the door and Brad brings my head to his lips to kiss my forehead. All I want to do is snuggle into his strong chest with his arms safely around me, especially when Bea’s voice rings through the foyer.
A second later, she and a guy who resembles Tanner McCain enter the room. She’s dressed in a pair of skinny jeans and a long sweater with crazy polka dot socks. Her hair has grown a little longer now, to shoulder length. Her dark-rimmed glasses still adorn her face. She looks exactly the same.
“Taylor.” She smiles as though we were friends. “You look great.” She sits on the floor right beside me and I wish someone could explain why she’s here.
“Hi, I’m Dylan.” A hand outstretches in front of me. My eyes follow a sleeve of tattoos up to the same stunning green eyes of his brother. Dylan’s different though. Where Tanner always had that boy next door, high school heartthrob look, Dylan looks a little more dangerous and dark. Suddenly, it all makes sense why they are a couple. Bea always liked challenges.
“Hi. Taylor.” I shake his hand and he cracks a smile.
“I know plenty about you.” He shoots me a grin similar to what I remember of Tanner, and suddenly, I feel okay with him around.
“I’ve filled him in on the gory details,” Bea says from next to me and that safe feeling vanishes.
“Don’t listen to her,” Dylan interrupts her. “Bea, come sit next to me.” He sits down on the couch and pats the seat next to him. He crosses his ankle over his knee, showing it’s not only his arms with tattoos. There’s another one snaking out from his jeans.
“Emerson,” Brad calls out to our daughter, and she looks his way after staring at Dylan and Bea. She runs over and into my lap, finally figuring out there are strangers in the room.
Brad’s hand moves to her back.
“She’s already scared of you?” Dylan laughs.
“No, she just has a high sensitivity when assholes enter the room,” Brad throws back his own insult.
“Bradley,” his mom scolds, joining the party.
“Sorry. Anyway, Emerson this is my good friend, Dylan.” She peeks out from my shoulder, curious about who it is. “His friend, Bea.” Brad continues and I can’t see what she’s looking at, but quickly her head turns in the direction of Brad’s mom on my other side. Her hand soothes along Em’s back just like Brad’s did. A pain deepens in my heart that I’ll never have that. With my mom gone, her memories fade with each day. There was a time when the sm
ell of lilacs could pull me into the warmth of her embrace. Not anymore though.
“Come on, little girl. I’m a friend of your aunt’s.” Bea kneels down on the carpet, but Dylan plucks her up by her sweater.
“Don’t scare her,” Dylan remarks, and Bea’s eyes fixate on Em’s back.
“I just want her to like me.”
“Then give her time. You’re scary to adults; what do you think a child sees?” Dylan shakes his head and Brad laughs as he scoots closer to me. His arm pulls me and Em to him like we’re one happy little family. As though he’s protecting us from the big bad Bea.
“Are you two, like . . . together again?” Bea asks, disdain clear in her voice. I swallow deep and tighten my arms around Em.
“Sly, Bea,” Dylan says to her, but that doesn’t move her vision from being fixated on us.
“So?”
“Cut it,” Brad says, low and threatening. “You cannot tell Piper, by the way. I’ve yet to tell her,” Brad adds, and I tilt my head at him. Why would he be holding it back from her?
“Piper will be home for Thanksgiving, Bea.” Brad’s mom interjects, shifting the conversation another way. Thank you, Maggie.
“Oh, she told me. I’m so excited.” She practically bounces in her seat.
“Don’t you have a family of your own?” Brad asks. The warmth of his thigh burns through my jeans.
“So, how is fatherhood for you, Brad?” Dylan dodges Brad’s question with one of his own.
“Couldn’t be better.” Brad holds his arms out for Em, who has decided she could bless them with a peek.
Surprisingly, Em shifts over to him and he hands her the basketball that had fallen when she ran over to me.
She looks out of the corner of her eye, but Brad’s mom reaches over and pulls the basketball net over to the middle of the room. Em instantly shifts her way and they begin playing basketball. Should have known she’d feel the gut instinct I did about her. She’s warm, loving, and safe like a mother should be.
“Where’s your dad?” I whisper to Brad and he shrugs.
“Who cares?”
Those two words tell me the meeting in the office was more than a welcome home celebration. Brad’s dad isn’t happy, and I can only imagine he’s used to having power and isn’t going to take it too kindly if Brad challenges him. Which from the tension in the kitchen after they returned, and knowing Brad, I’m positive they’re disagreeing over something.
Dylan and Brad carry on about Tanner and how his butterfly position is slipping. The trainers are trying to work with him, but for some reason, he isn’t gaining the speed he needs. It all goes over my head, and I don’t really want to start a conversation with Bea, so I allow the illusion that I’m with Brad feel real as his fingers trace my shoulder in a steady circle and I watch our daughter with her only grandmother.
The next morning, I quickly shower in my own private bathroom. On top of that, it’s attached to a guest bedroom. A big difference from the two-bedroom house I grew up in. I’m drying my hair with one towel and have another wrapped around my body when I’m startled by a deep voice.
“Now, this is a nice morning.” Brad and Em are sprawled on my bed with cartoons blaring from the television.
As I step back into the bathroom, the one towel drops from my hand as I make sure the other covers me completely.
“What are you doing here?”
“I live here.” He smirks that devilish grin that makes me want to lick him all over.
“In this room?”
“Truthfully, I wish you were staying down the hall in mine.” His alluring eyes roam my body and my breathing stops at his obvious approval. Little does he know, the body under this towel is very different from the one he remembers. There are light stretch marks and a little extra cushion now.
I move over to my bag in the corner and try to grab my clothes as discreetly as possible.
“Aren’t you going to respond?” he asks, and if I could find my voice, I’d say something. Hopefully, something snarky.
“Leave?” I bundle my clothes in my hands and tiptoe past the television.
“Mama.” Em crawls to the edge with her arms extended, but I can’t take her and conceal my flesh at the same time.
“Hold on, baby. I’ll be right back.” I kiss the top of her head and she sits down contently.
“Mommy should sit on the bed with us,” Brad chimes in, and I narrow my eyes.
“Sit.” Em pats the spot next to her.
“In a second, baby. I have to get dressed.”
“Sit!” Her voice raises and I shake my head.
I step away toward the serenity of the bathroom.
“You’re going to disappoint our daughter,” he adds, that grin still plastered on his face.
“Brad,” I warn with as stern of a voice as I can muster.
“Did you think about tonight?” I hear him moving off the bed and my heart beats out of my chest. Unable to not allow him to kill me with his affection, I wait, and two seconds later, those strong hands land on my shoulders. The scent of his cologne wafts around me. “I dreamed about you last night.”
“I don’t know, Brad,” I answer his first question, but he seems to be over that one already.
“I would love to do the things I was doing to you last night, tonight.” His breath tickles my damp skin and my center heats with a burning passion.
“Brad.” This time, any authority in my voice wanes with my weakness for Brad, leaving that ‘breathless take me now’ tone. The one Brad can always pull out of me because my body will never stop craving his.
His arms round my shoulders and travel painfully slow down the length of my exposed arms. “Please, one night.” My skin pricks from his breath hitting the most sensitive spot of my neck.
I twist around and his hands find my hips. Glancing over at Em, whose eyes are pinned on the cartoon, I allow myself to sink into all of him. His crisp cologne and the pouty bottom lip I used to nibble on. The contours of his muscles that I’d memorized are still present. Lastly, his eyes that continually tell me what he’s feeling. Right now, love is shining from them. Honest love. There’s no way I can refuse him this date, and since Maggie seems so nice, I trust her as much as I can.
“Okay,” I softly agree, and a wide smile spreads across his face.
“You just made my day.” He leans forward, but I catch Em looking at us from the corner of my eye. I draw back, and then my bedroom door opens.
We have no time to prepare before Maggie steps in the room. “Girls?” she asks. Em jumps off the bed and runs over to her. Maggie picks her up and automatically covers Em’s eyes when she finds Brad and me so close.
“I’ll just take her downstairs, if that’s okay?” Maggie backpedals toward the door while my face blazes with heat.
“Thanks, Mom,” Brad says, his eyes locked with mine the entire time.
My breathing hesitates, trying to catch up to everything going on around me. Brad’s always been so consuming to me, but I need to remember that little girl is my number-one priority now.
The door shuts and my tense shoulders relax slightly once it’s only the two of us. “How embarrassing.” I sigh, breaking away from him and sitting on the edge of the bed.
Brad searches out the remote and clicks off the “Olivia” cartoon. “My mom doesn’t care.” The bed dips with his weight and my skin prickles with goose bumps when his hand lands on my knee.
“I was standing in a towel with our daughter on the bed. I look like a horrible mother.” My face lands in my hands and I shake my head at who I’m becoming.
A bellowing laugh rises out of his throat. “No, you don’t. It’s not like I had you pinned to the bed naked and was grinding into you.”
That thought only heats my cheeks more.
“You just don’t get it. Here I am in your parents’ house with my daughter, who I’ve kept secret for two years. I’m already being judged, and you sneaking into my room this morning only makes me look like
some dime-store whore.”
Unable to sit any longer, I stand and pace the floor.
“Dime-store whore? Is there such a thing?” Brad laughs again, leaning back on the bed. His Henley rises up, showing his abs, which haven’t diminished over the years.
“Cover yourself up,” I mumble, ignoring his question to me about the whore.
He glances down and shakes his head. “Why? Is it turning you on?” Of course, he doesn’t move even a millimeter.
“No.” Not getting anywhere in the same room, I disappear into the bathroom, but a second later, he’s standing in the doorway, arms stretched over his head, holding on to the doorframe, that bare piece of skin on display once again.
“Well, does it?” he asks. Refusing to look, I concentrate on my make-up bag. “It’s okay. I mean, you’re standing in a towel in front of me. Do you want to see more of my skin? Better yet, how about a touch?” His arms fall and he steps into the room, making the steamy bathroom confining.
“I have to get ready, so bye.” My hands land on his shoulders, twisting him around and pushing him out the bathroom. I shut the door and flick the lock.
He knocks softly. “We’re still on for tonight, right?” he asks through the door.
Say no, say no, say no.
“Yes. Now leave me alone to get ready.”
“Taylor?”
“What?” I sigh.
“You look more edible than a King Ice Cream Cone.”
I cover my mouth to hide the laugh ready to squeak out.
“Thank you,” I say, using every ounce of self-control I have not to let him know how much that absurdity warms my heart.
We’d been on a few dates already, and it was the first real warm day after a long winter. He was sitting on the edge of the wall at the Student Center with Tanner and a few guys on the swim team. I walked by, not wanting to interrupt his guy time. He was chomping down on a huge ice cream cone, laughing and carrying on. Brad was a guy’s guy. Never alone and usually throwing a Frisbee or football around campus with his friends.
I tried to act as though I hadn’t heard his laugh fifty feet away, and I definitely didn’t want him to know how much my body wanted to veer his way. So, I acted like the details of my friend Vivian’s Art History class were the most enthralling thing I’d ever heard.
Love Rekindled (Love Surfaced) Page 12