by Haley Cass
“Would you believe me if I said I just like to come out and drink every afternoon at four o’clock?” Taylor deliberately took a large sip of her drink, while arching an eyebrow.
“Yes,” she snorted into her own glass, before she really took a look at Taylor.
Totally clear-eyed, didn’t smell like alcohol in the least – plus, she’d ordered a fucking Sprite, and for all of her rebel acts in their youth, Brooke didn’t remember any of those acts having a particular tendency towards alcohol. For all of Taylor’s flightiness, flakiness, and, in Brooke’s opinion, total lack of responsibility… something about that statement rang false as she gave a hard look at Taylor’s face.
There were laugh lines around her mouth, crinkling slightly around her eyes as she grinned, a little deeper than the last time Brooke had really been close enough to look at her, but somehow they just made her look even more alluring. And her skin still had the same vital glow it always did.
It grated even more that Taylor was aging so well. Then again, she supposed when you didn’t have a care in the world, that was what happened.
“No,” she amended. “Though I don’t doubt you have definitely gone out and gotten wasted at inappropriate times.”
Taylor chuckled, a rich sound that came from deep in her throat. “Me?! Brooke, that’s absolutely absurd. Ludicrous.”
Brooke hated that a small grin pulled at the corner of her mouth even as she rolled her eyes. “Right.”
Taylor placed her head in her hand, her waterfall of hair now falling over her arm, as she stared at Brooke with a surprising, sudden intensity. “Well, I was on my way to a meet up with a friend at her boutique a few blocks from here, when I saw a pretty woman in a suit – and you know me, I’ll always stop to look at a woman in a suit.”
Brooke rolled her eyes so hard it hurt, even as her cheeks heated at the compliment – stupid, because Taylor could flirt with literally anyone without being awkward about it – and Taylor lit up in another smile.
“So, she powers by me, narrowly avoiding knocking right into me, I might add, before looking up at this bar. And it was fascinating, because she looked like it was both hell and salvation at the same time. I don’t know many people who could pull that expression off so candidly.”
Brooke could feel her cheeks burn hotter and she was actually glad for the dimmed lighting now.
“So, you know, I paused to watch this woman enter the bar and then, it hit me. That woman looked exactly like Brooke Watson. She even had the same little line right up there that Brooke gets when she scowls,” Taylor reached up and softly ran her fingertip over the spot between Brooke’s eyebrows.
Brooke grabbed Taylor’s hand and held it in a firm grip as she pulled it down away from her face, scowling uncontrollably as she did so. “You did not think that.”
“I did, too.”
“You haven’t even really seen me in over three years.”
It grated her how easily the memory of the last time she’d actually talked to Taylor popped into her head. Almost four years ago, at Taylor’s parents’ thirty-eighth wedding anniversary. Taylor had teased her for sitting off to the side by herself, and then had forced Brooke to dance. And by forced, she meant with a lot of teasing and coaxing and just being around her until Brooke just, inexplicably, gave in.
By the time Brooke relaxed into it and started feeling sort of comfortable, Taylor had grinned brightly, leaned in close enough that her lips almost brushed Brooke’s ear as she’d whispered, “Keep it up.” She’d squeezed Brooke’s waist tightly, and had then seemingly disappeared into the crowd. She was gone from the town as a whole the following day.
A particular talent of hers.
“But you’ve always had that line.” Taylor scrunched up her face in what, Brooke guessed, was supposed to be an approximation of her own expression. Only it looked ridiculous and she narrowed her eyes. Taylor must have thought so, too, because she dropped the face with a laugh. “Even when you were a kid, you had that line. So serious.”
She had to actively stop herself from reaching up and rubbing the spot in question, even as could feel her frown deepen with the thought.
“Anyway, I stood outside for a minute, telling myself – there was just no way Brooke Watson was two thousand miles from Faircombe, in San Diego. In a bar, in the middle of the day, at that. But I couldn’t just walk away without satisfying my curiosity. And alas, it was you, so here I am.” She finished her tale with a little shrug, gaze never leaving Brooke’s face.
Her eyes were guileless, totally open, and Brooke made herself hold them for a few seconds before she turned to sip her Sprite.
It was only when she reached with her left hand that she realized she was still holding Taylor’s in her right hand, settled in her lap. Taylor seemed content with the hold, her fingers curled around and relaxed against the back of Brooke’s hand.
Brooke abruptly let go, breaking the contact as soon as she was able to really register the soft skin against her palm. Taking in a deep breath, she blew it out slowly, pressing her empty hand hard against her leg.
“All right. What happened at this conference that has made it so hellacious?” Taylor asked, and before Brooke could say anything to the contrary, she reached out and drew her fingertips from Brooke’s elbow down to her wrist, catching on the crisply folded button-up shirt she was wearing, fingertips brushing over her wrist. “You’re in a suit. You were clearly trying to get away from something there.”
Brooke bit the inside of her cheek, hard, thinking about the last forty-five minutes of her life, as she gave Taylor a measuring look. She wasn’t about to just relive her humiliation to Taylor; the thought almost made her laugh.
Until she opened her mouth and the words came spilling out.
“I – this is the first time I’ve been asked to come to this conference. It’s… a big deal.” That was an understatement. The last time a city as small as Faircombe had been included in a conference of this size… well, it had never happened. “They asked me to present, last-minute, in the place of another city manager. From Kent Hill,” she supplied the city in Kentucky, shaking her hair back, cheeks heating at the memory. “We’re both the smallest cities and have the most similar functions, so I guess it makes sense,” she muttered.
“But I had no time to really prepare. And once I was in front of everyone and under-prepared, talking about something I – well I know, but it wasn’t my own research or words… it went okay for the first twenty minutes.” Not great, she thought with a self-derisive eyeroll. “But then I tripped up and got caught up in my own head, when I realized everyone was watching me.”
She flexed her hands against her thighs, glaring down at them as she remembered them shaking. Then the way she’d tripped over the cord of the microphone, and how that had led to her dropping the index cards she was using to guide the presentation. She was frustrated with herself, the embarrassment still circulating inside of her forming a pit in her stomach.
She honestly had no idea how the last fifteen minutes of the presentation actually went, because it all blended together in her head at that point. Into a repetitive drone of get out, finish this now, you need to end this.
Taylor’s hand landed on top of her left one, her gentle touch inexplicably comforting. “Just like The Parade of Stars all over again.”
The touch of humor in her voice was tinged with empathy but Brooke still blanched at the reminder of her fourth grade play. Where… admittedly, a very similar thing had happened. Only, back then, her stage fright resulted in her also throwing up.
Still, she shot Taylor a look. “No,” she ground out, “Because back then, I was ten. I can do this now.” As long as she was prepared, she added silently. Still, her forehead crinkled as the stress seemed to pound down on her, tying up her nerves. “And I have to prove it to give my own presentation in,” she checked her watch, “thirty-five minutes.”
Taylor nodded slowly, before ending in a resolute motion. Like something had
been decided upon and agreed between them. Brooke only had to wonder for a moment what it was before Taylor announced, “It’s definitely going to go well, because you’re going to practice on me.”
Brooke choked on the sip she’d taken, ripping her hand out from where it still rested under Taylor’s. She didn’t even know why she’d let it stay for so long. Somewhat, sort-of, maybe comforting or not.
“You’re insane,” she stated with certainty. It wasn’t the first time Taylor had heard that, she was sure. Actually, she knew she’d said it in the past, a handful of times with varying intensities.
“No, really. Hit me.” Taylor tilted her head, as if literally lending an ear toward her.
She didn’t even dignify that one with a response.
Taylor remained undeterred. “Come on; if you can’t talk about something like this with your lifelong friends, who can you talk about it with?”
“We aren’t friends, though.” The correction left her before she thought twice about it and she turned to give Taylor a look that matched the incredulity she was feeling inside at the statement.
“Well, ouch.” Even though her voice still held a lightness, Taylor’s eyebrows pinched together. She sat up straight, no longer leaning on the bar, as she remained facing Brooke. The look in her dark eyes wasn’t playful anymore.
It gave Brooke pause and a little stab of guilt tried to poke into her stomach before she shut it down. Forcefully.
A little vexed and more than a little frustrated, she huffed out a breath. “I mean, we’ve never really been friends. I was friends with Ben; I am friends with Ben.” And, at this point in her adulthood, also friends with Taylor’s sister as well. “But you’re – I don’t even know where you are in the world. Literally. We don’t keep in touch when you’re gone. That’s not friendship; it’s not a relationship at all.”
She nodded with her own words and they took away that little feeling at the disappearance of Taylor’s easy, lightheartedness from moments ago. Everything she said was just a fact.
“So, to you, we’re not friends.” Taylor spoke slowly, her voice contemplative, even as she kept her eyes on Brooke, intently.
“We aren’t, by anyone’s definition, friends,” she insisted.
Maybe Brooke didn’t have many of them – even at forty, still technically a loner – but she did have Ben. And Savannah, the youngest Vandenberg. And she had Marisa, who may be her assistant, but doubled as another friend. Somewhat. And Brooke wouldn’t ever go for weeks, months, or freaking years without contacting them.
“You don’t know my definition,” Taylor informed her, arching an eyebrow, before she broke with a small, soft smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe not friends, exactly,” she conceded, “But – look. We’re something, aren’t we?”
Brooke only narrowed her eyes, still feeling wrung out by her day and now, a bit by this conversation.
“I mean. If we were absolutely nothing at all to each other, how would I know that you hate peas? Or that you always put your hair up in a bun when you’re trying to concentrate on something? Or that even though you are an adult woman in a bar, I knew it was a straight up Sprite on the rocks in that cup?” Taylor waited a beat, wiggling her eyebrows. “And mostly, you have to feel some sort of connection here with me to have told me about your day earlier. Because I know that you wouldn’t have felt comfortable talking to just anyone off the street.”
Brooke did hate peas. And she did always tie her hair up in a bun when she was getting down to work on something, because she felt like it got in the way when she was trying to think. Both of those things were byproducts of the fact that Taylor had known her for basically her entire life – ever since that day in kindergarten when she’d gone home with Ben to play at his house, anyway. And perhaps Taylor was even right that Brooke felt a certain sense of comfort at a familiar face.
“Fine,” she allowed, finishing her drink before she turned to look at Taylor. “We’re… something.”
Taylor’s smile seemed bright enough to illuminate the entire dim interior as she let out a victorious cheer. “Yes! I knew I’d get you out of the black and white and into the gray zone eventually.”
Sick of following the path Taylor seemed to be laying down for her, Brooke sighed and rubbed at her temple. “What?” Taylor opened her mouth to expand, but Brooke shook her head, “No, like… what is the point you’re getting at?”
“The point is that I think that there are times where your path crosses with someone else’s just at the right instant. Where you meet someone who’s good for you at that moment. And maybe, right now, at this moment in time, I’m yours.”
I’m yours.
It was such an odd thing to hear from Taylor, those exact words, because she wondered peripherally if Taylor had ever settled anywhere long enough to allow herself to be anyone’s.
The thought left as soon as it came, and Brooke shook her head as she grimaced at it and looked suspiciously at her now-empty glass. Maybe her Sprite had been spiked, somehow. It felt like the only way this interaction was even happening.
Cutting her gaze to Taylor and pushing whatever weird thoughts she had out of her head, Brooke surveilled her for a long moment. She was utterly serious about what she’d said, Brooke could see that.
“That’s exactly the kind of hippie crap that I’d expect from you.” She grumbled, intending for it to have more bite, but her tone was lacking.
She could tell by the way Taylor’s face erupted into a vibrant smile.
Before Brooke could stop her, Taylor stood and grabbed Brooke’s hand as she did so, effortlessly pulling her up to stand as well.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Taylor tugged her, fingers clasping firmly to make up for Brooke’s resistance, as she led her across the empty floor of the bar to a more reclusive spot over near a series of booths against the back wall. Brooke begrudgingly allowed it even as she stared at Taylor’s shoulder blade, revealed by the style of her shirt.
Taylor dropped the contact as she sat in a booth seat sideways, her long legs between them, and she looked up from where she sat.
“All right. Practice. You have a presentation to give in a half hour and you’re going to give me the highlights, right now. Off the top of your head. Because I know you know them.”
Feeling exasperated because she didn’t actually agree to this, Brooke crossed her arms and looked down at Taylor, who braced her elbow against her knee and then propped her chin on her fist and stared up at Brooke expectantly.
“It’s about budgeting to allow for infrastructure growth. I highly doubt you’re going to find it interesting,” her voice was dry as she shifted to her other foot.
“I love learning about new things. And besides, either I fall asleep and you have a really easy audience to rehearse on or you keep me awake, and you’ll know that you really did nail it,” Taylor cajoled, crossing her legs at her ankles. “Now, come on. No one else is listening.”
“I don’t care who’s listening here,” she shot back, which was, at the very least, true. Even if there were people around them – there weren’t – she didn’t care about the opinions of someone who had no idea about what she was talking about, who was hanging out in a bar in the middle of the day.
“Perfect.” Taylor opened her hands and held out her arms as if to say now, bring it on. It felt both inviting and like a dare.
And it sparked that need Brooke had to prove herself. She wondered if Taylor did that somehow on purpose.
“Find out who you are, and do it on purpose,” Taylor quoted, the gleam in her eyes seeming brighter. “So, you know. Do it, here and now.”
Brooke narrowed her own eyes at Taylor. “Don’t use Dolly’s wisdom against me. I’m already going.”
Taylor winked unabashedly. “I felt like if there was anything that might motivate you more, it would be Dolly Parton.”
Which, fine. She wasn’t wrong, and it didn’t surprise her that Taylor would remember that. Given that she
and Ben had both been devout Dolly fans since childhood, it would have been a shocking thing to forget.
Straightening her shoulders, she took a deep breath through her nose and began.
“Managing a budget for a city experiencing a seven to ten percent rate of growth, as many of us know, isn’t easy…”
***
Brooke really thought that one of the weirder moments in her life – top ten for sure, maybe top five – would be standing in a bar in San Diego in the middle of the day, with Taylor Vandenberg staring up at her with rapt interest, as she did a quick review on the yearly budget of Faircombe.
She found out that it was actually even weirder having Taylor walk down the sidewalk with her as they left the bar, going in the direction of the hotel her conference was at.
The late September sun was warm and Taylor tilted her head up into it as Brooke tilted hers up at Taylor. She still sported a golden tan from… wherever she’d been. Malaysia? Brooke supposed spending a portion of the summer in southeast Asia would result in that perfect tan.
Despite living in Tennessee her entire life, Brooke still preferred the indoors in the summer when the temperatures got too warm.
“You actually made the budget interesting. And Faircombe,” Taylor added, her tone teasing, turning to look at her and catching Brooke’s gaze on her.
Brooke quickly turned away, looking ahead of them as they walked, and she set her jaw in irritation. “Faircombe is interesting. You just don’t think so.”
She walked a little faster, reminded of yet another reason why Taylor was so frustrating a person to her. Beyond her general irresponsibility was the fact that Taylor had left their hometown and seemed to still think so little of it, when Brooke had made it her life’s work to breathe life into it.
Two different kinds of people.
Unfortunately for her, Taylor’s longer stride kept pace with her with no problem. She reached out, her hand catching Brooke’s easily to slow her pace. “Wait, I was kidding.” She shrugged, tossing her hair back with a wink. “Mostly. But one woman’s treasure is another woman’s… not treasure.”
