“You are unbelievable, Ken Doll.”
“Ken Doll? Really, Taylor?” Derrick said in irritation. “You know how much I hate that nickname. Now you have to pay the consequences.” Derrick started to full-on tickle Taylor, causing her to laugh, and kick, and breathlessly beg him to stop.
“No, Derrick,” she laughed, “I’m sorry.”
“Say you take it back,” he said, not letting up.
“I take it—”
A knock on the door had them both freezing. “Taylor,” her mom called through the door, “I just put Marty to bed. It’s late, honey. We should go.”
Taylor was about to call back to her mom when Derrick got up and opened the door. “Can I walk her down in a minute?” he asked Elizabeth.
Elizabeth’s gaze flicked from Derrick to Taylor. When Taylor gave her mom an “it’s okay” nod, she smiled at Derrick. “Five minutes,” she said and Derrick shut the door behind her.
Derrick came back to Taylor, who was still sitting on the floor, and offered her his hand. He helped her up and then kept her hand in his as he walked her across the room to the door.
This is it, Taylor thought, this is where he says that’s it, thanks for coming by but never speaks to me again.
But at the door, Derrick stopped and turned to her. “Will you go out with me tomorrow?” he asked quickly, like he was nervous, and then he ran his free hand through his hair.
“Where?” Taylor asked in confusion.
Derrick shrugged a little. “Uh, dinner? I’m not sure yet, just out. Like on a date,” he emphasized.
“A date?” Taylor asked, even more confused. She had never been asked out anywhere in her life, and she never imagined Derrick would be the one who would ask her for the first time. There was a time she had hoped and wished for it every day, but she had pushed that away slowly as he walked out of her life.
Derrick nodded. “Yeah, we could eat and talk, and just, you know, spend time together.”
Taylor didn’t answer, mostly because she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“Please, Taylor,” Derrick pleaded as the silence spread between them.
“Uh, okay. Yeah, yes,” she stumbled as she answered him. “Yes, Derrick, that sounds great,” she finally got out.
Derrick’s face lit up. “Great,” he said as his dimple-popping smile spread across his face. “I’ll be there at seven. Does that work?”
Taylor just nodded. She wasn’t sure she could find her voice anymore. She was going out, on a date, with Derrick, and her heart soared with all the feelings for him that she had pushed away. Her heart beat triple time, and she was breathing fast as nerves and excitement and hope ran amuck inside her.
Derrick leaned down and kissed the top of Taylor’s head, and she literally felt like she would swoon. He put his free hand to her face, the other still clutching her hand, and tilted her face up, “I can’t wait to take you out tomorrow, Tay,” he said and smiled.
Derrick opened the door, and Taylor basically floated down to the back door and out to her mother’s waiting car. As soon as she sat, her smile covered her face, and she could not take it down even when her mother noticed.
“So, how did it go with Derrick?” her mother asked, and Taylor told her everything—about his hands and the talk and then the pending date. If Taylor weren’t seat-belted in, she would be springing out of her seat.
When she was done with her tale, Taylor noticed that her mother didn’t look as excited as she felt. “What’s wrong, Mom?”
Elizabeth slid her gaze to her daughter as she drove. “Just be careful, Taylor. Derrick, he’s—well, he is young and unpredictable. I’m not sure he knows how to be serious about anything yet.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Just,” Elizabeth heaved out a breath, “just don’t get your hopes up, please. I don’t want him to break your heart again.”
Taylor nodded. “I’ll be okay, Mom,” she assured her, touching her arm. Then she turned to the window and bit her bottom lip to hold the smile in. How could she not be okay? Her skin and hair still tingled from Derrick holding her, and he was taking her on a date tomorrow night—a real date. Seven o’clock couldn’t come fast enough.
But when seven o’clock came, Derrick did not.
Fifteen minutes, half an hour, and then two hours passed, and still there was no Derrick. She sat in the living room, on the stairs, and finally in the kitchen waiting, hoping he was maybe going to come in one of the alternate entries, but he never did.
At 9:30, Taylor got up from the table. “Taylor, are you okay?” her mom asked softly.
Taylor just nodded and kept walking.
Her mom came up behind her and wrapped her arms around her, “I’m sorry, Taylor,” she whispered in her ear.
Silent tears fell down Taylor’s face.
“Maybe he was busy. I can call?” her mother offered. She had offered it since he was fifteen minutes late, but Taylor had refused. She shook her head again.
“Okay,” Elizabeth said and released her. “Get some rest.”
Taylor nodded and walked to her room. When she got there she fell onto her bed, grabbed her pillow, and cried. She could not believe he had done it to her again. It felt worse than it had all those years ago, or maybe that was just how bad it felt to have your heart ripped open a second time by the same person.
When Taylor ran out of tears, she looked at the clock and saw it was almost ten o’clock. She should probably go to sleep and leave this horrific day behind her. The silence in her room wasn’t helping her focus her thoughts elsewhere, so on her way to her closet she turned the TV on. Sad to say she would rather listen to the opening lineup of depressing fires, wars, and gun battles in the local region than her own internal beat-up session.
“And bad-boy billionaire Derrick Fletcher is at it again,” came the anchorwoman’s dramatic tone. Taylor ran from her closet to watch the screen. “These photos show the Fletcher-enterprise heir spending the evening in a bar and club and then taking over a tattoo parlor with an entourage.”
Pictures flashed across the TV. Taylor stood frozen, horrified to see Derrick taking shots while girls hung on his arm. Then the scene cut to Derrick in a reclining chair having a tattoo drawn, and then a needle start inking the tattoo in as he lay there with a bottle of booze to his lips.
“This appearance of course comes the day after his mother, Delia Fletcher, lost her battle with cancer,” the anchorwoman added as the slideshow of Derrick came to an end. “Fletcher reps stated they had no comment when questioned about the young Fletcher’s behavior.”
Taylor shut the TV off, but it was too late. Her body boiled with anger. Derrick had blown her off to get drunk and tattooed. His words had obviously meant nothing, and he was just a liar, saying whatever he had to at the time.
Taylor walked over to her desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a framed picture of her and Derrick she had put away years before. It was a candid shot of them that Derrick had given her as a gift. She undid the back, slid the picture out, and ripped it in tiny pieces. Then she threw them and the frame away in the bathroom trashcan. On her way out of the room, she looked at herself in the mirror.
“Never again,” she whispered to herself, vowing right there and then to keep Derrick out of her life.
Chapter Eight
Taylor woke from her trip down memory lane and found the blanket that she was wrapped in was heavy, inferno warm, but she was so comforted by it she didn’t dare move. She breathed in the scent that was attached to it, which was delicious and spicy and … Taylor sighed at her own ridiculousness and slighted one eye open to confirm that her blanket was in fact Derrick.
She wanted to be mad that he was holding her, especially after having that dream, which reminded her why she should be mad, but she had promised him that she was moving forward, so she wouldn’t get mad about something so trivial. Well that and the fact that she was just as wrapped around him as he was around her. Taylor’s hand was fis
ted into Derrick’s T-shirt, and her head was planted on his shoulder. Taylor rolled her head back and took him in. He was so handsome and relaxed in sleep; she could still look at him all day. Really he was just as hot awake, so if she was honest she could stare at him all the time.
Taylor saw they were in his bedroom, and she remembered that last time they had been in here, after his mother died, when he had begged her to come and see him in his room. It was definitely neater now, and there were fewer personalized items, but it was still the same place.
Taylor figured a shower would be the first step in her new motto of “move forward” for this new day. That would help her leave the past this room reminded her of in the drain. She slid one of her legs cautiously from the cage of Derrick’s legs and released his shirt at the same time.
Derrick’s response was immediate. He wrapped her tighter to him and clamped his leg down, pinning her leg between his. “No, Tay, don’t go,” he muttered, never opening his eyes, and went back to his even breathing. Taylor could see he was obviously still in dreamland. Taylor lay motionless, and Derrick gradually relaxed his limbs again. “I love you, Tay,” he muttered in his sleep, and Taylor felt her heart race.
Time to get that shower.
This time, Taylor didn’t take her escape slowly. She pulled herself out quickly and walked silently to the bathroom, closing the door. She stripped and got into the ridiculously huge shower when the water was barely warm.
She thought of the book on meditation she had read last year. She really needed to focus right now and not concentrate on how good Derrick’s hands felt on her or how awful it had been to remember the last time she was in his room. So Taylor leaned forward and braced her hands on the shower wall, letting the stream hit her head and run down her back.
Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.
“I was wondering where you had gone,” a voice suddenly said from across the room.
The high-pitched scream Taylor let out echoed over the tiled room.
“Christ, Taylor. Why are you screaming?” Derrick asked, the sound of his voice getting closer.
“Don’t come in here!”
“I’m already in here!”
“Then don’t come closer!”
“I can’t see anything, the glass in fogged,” Derrick said, and Taylor watched through the glass as his shape continuing to approach.
“Derrick, don’t you dare come any closer,” Taylor warned.
“Well, you know, Taylor,” Derrick said, leaning his back to the shower glass, “you don’t have any more clothes with you.”
Now she was in a pickle because he was right, unless … “I’ll just put my other clothes back on.”
“Not if I take them now,” Derrick said and was out of the bathroom like lightening.
Taylor groaned and smiled to herself a little. It was sort of nice to be back in her skin and not have to lie, at least to Derrick.
Taylor cleaned up, washing with all the manly stuff that was in the shower. And when she got out, she was happy to see fluffy white towels in the linen closet and two massively lush robes on the back of the bathroom door.
She opened the door to find Derrick sitting across from its opening, his hands covering his eyes. She tried not to smile, but it was ineffective.
“You can look, geek. I’m decent,” Taylor said.
“Damn! I was hoping to catch a little something,” Derrick said, taking his hands down. “I guess I didn’t really think it through, though. Figures a bathroom would have towels and robes.”
Taylor rolled her eyes and shook her head, making her way to the door.
“Where you going?” Derrick asked, getting up and making strides to her.
“Uh, your sister’s room. I doubt I will find clothing for me in here,” Taylor then thought for a moment. “Well, I might, but I don’t want to wear any of it.”
Derrick puffed his chest up. “I do not have any person’s clothes in here other than mine—”
“Settle down, killer, it was a joke,” Taylor cut him off. “Anyway, I need to get dressed,” she informed him and left him in his room, pissed off and still holding her dirty clothes.
* * *
An hour later, Taylor was outfitted in a personally styled Marty Fletcher original. Her hair was perfectly styled too. And, last but not least, she had makeup on to—as Marty made clear—only accent the perfection that Taylor already was.
As the newly freshened Taylor made her way to the kitchen, she stopped suddenly in front of some pictures in the hall. They had always been there; Taylor had passed by them all hundreds of times in her life, but now she was drawn into them. There were family photos of Derrick and Marty with their parents, and pictures of Derrick’s grandparents. There were pictures of Taylor and her parents too.
She missed them. She missed the time she was supposed to get together with them. She missed that her dad had never gotten to see her enter middle school, let alone walk her down the aisle. She missed that her mom wasn’t there after her grandfather died, to help her and take care of her. She missed being a family. It felt like she had been given the whole package for such a short time, she was afraid she had fantasized how great it had been, but when she looked at the pictures here and saw how happy she looked, how happy her parents looked, she knew it was all as good as she remembered.
There were pictures of Simon and Delia’s wedding too. The styles sure had changed, Taylor mused. Simon and Delia looked so young. And so did her dad, who stood next to Simon in a tux. He was so very handsome, Taylor thought and was startled as she scanned the picture and saw Cedric standing next to her father. She only recognized him because of pictures she had seen previously. He had never looked like the young, carefree, or happy soul he was in the picture. What had changed in him?
Taylor shook her head as she looked over the other pictures and saw her parents’ wedding picture. She felt tears well up in her eyes. They were glowing, just so happy—the way a marriage should be, she thought, twirling the insane ring Derrick had given her around her finger. She looked at her mother and father smiling so widely at each other. They were flanked by Simon and Delia, and next to Simon was—Cedric? He looked so different from Simon’s wedding photo. Taylor dug deep in her memory. If she remembered right, her parents were married one year after Simon was. He wasn’t smiling in this one; his face was serious, his posture stiff.
“They loved you so much.”
“Oh my God!” Taylor jumped and shouted as Simon appeared silently behind her. Spinning to the older Fletcher, she put her hand to her chest, “My goodness, Simon, you scared me!” Taylor laughed now in relief.
“I’m sorry,” Simon said, smiling at her. “I saw you admiring the pictures, and I didn’t want to ruin the moment.” He looked over her shoulder at the pictures behind her and motioned his head. “They loved you very much, Taylor. You were their sun,” he said as his eyes stayed locked on her parents’ wedding pictures.
“I know,” Taylor said, and she wasn’t cutting him off or changing the subject. She really did know. That was probably why she was so lost now. Up until her grandfather’s last day, Taylor had felt love all around her, and she knew her family was with her. But that light died with him. It was just her and Cedric, and there had only been darkness there. “Simon, can I ask you something?” Taylor implored as she too looked back at the pictures.
“Of course,” Simon answered happily. Simon had always been a fixture in her life. Taylor was comfortable with him; she felt she could ask him anything and he would answer her honestly.
“What happened to Cedric?”
Simon stiffened and peered over at Taylor, his brow raised in confusion.
“He just seems like he was a different person from one picture to the next. I just don’t get it,” she said. “What made him a monster?”
“A monster,” Simon murmured, nodding. “I guess he did get to that status,” he said, turning away from the pictures. Simon studied Taylor now and started to s
peak several times, opening his mouth and then closing it and looking thoughtful, only to repeat the motion again. Finally, Simon said, “Sometimes, Taylor, the indiscretions of those who have gone should stay buried with them.”
“Yes, well, he isn’t buried yet,” Taylor said.
“Even so …” Simon said and then gestured to her appearance. “I see Marty has gotten a hold of you,” he observed.
The memory of her interaction with Marty had Taylor smiling, “Oh, yes, I was at her mercy when I asked for jeans and a shirt.”
Simon nodded in understanding then held out his arm to Taylor. “Walk with me, Taylor?”
For a split second, Taylor wanted to say no. Though she had always been comfortable with Simon, but she couldn’t help remembering the pesky little blackmaily thing he was doing to her with Derrick. But then she realized that he was trying to build a bridge between them; maybe some alone time was just what they needed.
Taylor took Simon’s arm and walked with him in silence down the stairs and out onto the stone patio of the Fletcher estate’s backyard and down into the garden.
It was like something out of Alice in Wonderland with all the shapes and animals designed within the hedges and the floral accents, and Taylor loved it. Playing hide and seek had never been more fun anywhere than in this garden. As the happy memories of her childhood flooded her mind, Taylor could not believe she had been afraid to come back here.
“You know, Taylor, I was the one who came up with the idea for Derrick to get married,” Simon said, looking out over the hedge garden and blooming flowers.
And just like that her bubble went pop! She was back in reality. Heaving a sigh, Taylor replied, “Yeah, I kind of figured, Simon.”
Simon looked back in surprise. “Really? And why is that?”
“I figured you gave him the order and he tracked me down. After all, you two seem quite chummy now.” Taylor looked over at Simon and smiled. “Derrick isn’t exactly stamped ‘marry and settle down’.”
Inevitable Inheritance: The Inevitable Series | Book One Page 11
