“We don’t need to see her back for six months,” I tell Sophia’s mom. “We’ll assess for school readiness at that point, and we’ll have the summer to work on things if need be.”
“I can’t thank you enough,” Mrs. Estevez says.
I pick up Sophia. “Did you go see Santa the other day?” I already know she did from her mom, who nearly cried telling me about Sophia sitting on Santa’s lap and being able to talk to him and hear him, such a typical kid thing to do that so many take for granted. I got a little choked up about that too. Things like this are why I love my job.
“Yes! I asked him for a princess tent play castle.”
“Oh, that sounds wonderful. Next time you come, you can tell me about it.”
“If he brings it,” Mrs. Estevez adds.
“I have to be good,” Sophia agrees.
“I won’t see you for a while. I hope you have a wonderful Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Taylor,” Sophia says, giving my cheek a smacking kiss.
My heart swells and I give her a squeeze before setting her down. Warmth spreads through my chest, a feeling of satisfaction and affection. We don’t always have positive outcomes, so I take the ones I do have and enjoy the hell out of them.
I leave the office a bit late but with a sense of satisfaction.
I text JP to tell him I’m on my way home. He probably slept all day after the road trip, but hopefully he’s up for going out for dinner or something. Or we could just stay in and make something together. I haven’t seen him since they left on Thursday, and I miss him.
I’ve missed him so much.
The last few weeks have been amazing. When I’m with JP, I’m plunging into a chasm of emotions. I like so many things about him. He makes me feel so many things. I want to be there for him when he’s hurting and laugh with him when something’s funny. When I’m not with him, I’m thinking about him, reliving sexy times with him, worrying about him…missing him.
Gah! I can’t fall into this trap. It’s all a big hoax—love. I’ve learned that. I want nothing to do with that.
Sure, things are great now. At least, I think they are. But I thought things were great for my parents, for thirty-two years. Still, these feelings inside me keep getting bigger and stronger, and I don’t seem to be able to stop them. I’m trying. But, damn, I’m so happy with him.
I miss him when he’s away, but I’m trying not to. I have a full life—friends, career, family (although it’s messed up), and Byron. I have yoga and my book club and walks on the beach. I’m not sitting around crying because he’s on a road trip.
I get JP’s reply to my text when I’m home, saying that he’ll come over in a while.
I tap my response. Okay. Then I move over to my little Christmas tree in the corner, the one JP helped me pick out and decorate, to turn on the lights. It’s small, but I love how it sparkles. Then I change into leggings and a sweater. I still have gifts to wrap, for Amy and Jeff and the kids, for Dad, and for JP.
I picked up gift bags and wrapping paper at the dollar store on the weekend, so I start some Christmas music on Spotify. Sitting in the middle of my living room floor, I set about wrapping, starting with JP’s gifts so they’re done before he gets here. Contentment settles inside me, here in my own place, wrapping gifts, with sparkling lights in front of me, Christmas melodies and the scent of the little pine tree filling the air. It will be a different Christmas this year, but that’s okay.
Maybe I should bake cookies. Then I laugh out loud. That’s getting carried away. I probably don’t even have the ingredients I’d need to make cookies.
I arrange the gifts under the tree, then head to the kitchen to inspect the cupboards. Eep. Pretty empty. Since I was at JP’s all weekend, I didn’t shop for my own groceries. But I’ve got a box of penne pasta and a can of tomatoes, so along with a few other ingredients I put together an easy pasta sauce.
I sit down and watch the news, waiting for JP. A volcano is erupting in Hawaii. There was a shooting in Encino. The California Highway Patrol is doing a bang-up job of arresting drunk drivers over the holiday season.
JP and I talked about that the other night. Drunk driving, I mean. When we were out at a Christmas party one of his teammates had, he would only have a couple of drinks even though others were pushing him to have more. I love that he’s responsible that way. I told him the next time we go to a party, I’ll be the designated driver.
Finally the buzzer sounds. It’s JP and I let him in the front door of the building, then open my apartment door for him. My belly flutters with excitement. When I see him, my heart leaps and my whole body hungers for his touch. A smile breaks across my face. “Hi.” I step into him and throw my arms over his shoulders. He smells so good. I press my nose to the side of his neck and breathe him in. I love the feel of his big body against mine.
He pulls me up against him, squeezing the air out of me.
“Hey! Need to breathe, here.”
“Sorry.” He loosens his grip and gives me a wry smile before swooping down to kiss me.
“You must have missed me.” I lay my palm on his cheek and smile back at him, my body buzzing with joy and lust.
“So damn much.”
“Come in.” I slide my hand into his big one and swing the door closed behind us. “Are you hungry? Did you eat?”
“Yeah, I could eat something.”
“I don’t have much in the house, but I’m making penne all’arrabbiata.”
“Sounds good.”
Now he’s here, that feeling of contentment settles even deeper inside me, even as I recognize how dangerous it is to feel this way.
JP
She’s so beautiful, her golden-brown eyes, long eyelashes, smooth skin…and that mouth…Fuck, I missed her.
I crush her to me again, desperate for her.
A growl rises in my throat and I pull her closer, tilt my head, and deepen the kiss, devouring her. God, I want her. I need her.
“Mmm.”
I lick into her mouth and she opens for me, melting into me. My blood fizzes in my veins, my groin throbbing. Moments later we finally separate, staring into each other’s eyes.
She smiles. “I’d better cook that pasta.”
After we eat, we move into the living room to exchange gifts.
“You go first,” he says.
“No, you.”
I growl, then sigh. “Okay.” I first open the smaller gift in a bright red gift bag. I pull out the black T-shirt and hold it up in front of me to read DROP AND GIVE ME ZEN on the front. I shout out a laugh. “Perfect.”
She beams at me. “Open the other one.”
I unwrap the large, flat package. It’s a customized, framed black-and-white image of a hockey player composed of different hockey terms, with WYNN and 13 on the front of the jersey. I hold it in both hands and stare at it, my heart expanding hard against my sternum.
I lift my gaze to meet hers. She’s biting adorably on her bottom lip. “This is…” I stop and clear my throat. “This is fantastic. Thank you.”
Her eyes light up. “Do you really like it?”
“I fucking love it.”
She lets out a breath. “Oh, good.”
I set it down carefully, hold out my arms, and say gruffly, “Come here.”
She flies over to me and I crush her in my embrace, pressing my face to her hair, breathing in her scent. “Fuck, Taylor. What am I gonna do?”
“Hmm?” She pulls back, still smiling, but her eyebrows tug together. “Do about what?”
I close my eyes. “Nothing.” I kiss her, thoroughly and hotly, until she’s breathless and squirming. “Okay, your turn.”
“I like opening presents,” she says happily, picking up a box wrapped in gold paper. “Almos
t as much as I like giving them. You didn’t wrap this, did you?” She eyes the perfectly folded corners, neat tape, and pretty ribbon that were done at the shop.
“Uh, no.”
She laughs. “That’s okay.” She carefully opens the paper, then the box inside. She stares at the gift, then lifts it up. A delicate yellow-gold sunflower with a diamond center hangs on a shiny gold chain. Her fingertips fly to her lips and press there. “Oh my God.”
I wait, rubbing my jaw, swallowing. I had it custom made for her because I couldn’t find exactly what I wanted.
She swipes at her eyes. Jesus. I hope that means she’s happy.
“Th-thank you. This is so beautiful.”
“Oh good. I thought it was pretty. Not as pretty as you.”
She reaches for me to hug me, wetting the shoulder of my shirt with tears. “Thank you. I love it.” She opens the clasp, hands the necklace to me, and gives me her back so I can fasten it around her neck.
“There’s one more gift. We were, uh, kind of on the same wavelength.”
She turns back to me, wiping moisture from her cheeks with her palms. “Oh.”
I hand her another gift, a small flat package, and she pulls the paper from it.
“It’s uh, maybe overkill.” I rub my hands on my jeans.
She smiles. But then she starts crying again when she sees the square piece of dark wood with sunflowers painted on it and the words YOU ARE MY SUNSHINE.
“Too much?” I ask. Jesus, I didn’t mean to make her cry this much.
“No,” she sobs, setting it carefully on the coffee table. “It’s perfect. And you’re about to get very lucky.”
I catch her as she launches herself at me again and plants a huge kiss on my lips.
I already am lucky.
* * *
—
Later, in her bed, both of us drowsy and sated, Taylor’s cheek on my chest and our legs twined together, she murmurs, “I went to see my mom on Saturday.”
“Ah, shit, I forgot about that. I’m such an asshole. How did it go?”
She smiles. “Good. Shirley wasn’t there, which I was grateful for. Just me and Mom.” Then she sighs. “It’s hard when your parent has a new relationship with someone else.”
“Especially when it happened so fast. If you’d had time to adjust to your parents’ separation and their relationship ending, it probably would have been easier to accept someone else. A woman your father’s dating, or a new partner for your mom.”
“Yes…that’s true. Anyway, we talked about a bunch of things. I think I feel…better.”
“Good.”
“Thank you for pushing me to do it.”
“I didn’t push you. Just…nudged.”
She snuggles into me. “Thank you.”
“For what?” I pass a hand over her hair.
“Just for being here. For listening. You’re a good listener.”
She’s thanking me? I haven’t done anything. Listening is about all I can do, and it doesn’t seem like much. “Thanks.”
Chapter 21
Taylor
Dad and I are in his car, driving down to San Diego on Christmas Eve. I eye Dad sideways from the passenger seat, assessing how he’s doing. He’s always been lean, but he lost weight after the separation. Doesn’t look like he’s lost any more, though. His eyes are kind and warm as he smiles at me. “So how are you doing, Tater Tot?”
I laugh. “Daaaad. Don’t call me that.”
He chuckles too. “I’ll never stop calling you that. Someday you’ll have kids and they’ll love it.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m never having kids.”
“Phhht.”
“Nope. Not falling in love, not getting married, not having kids.”
He frowns. “You love kids.”
“Yeah, I do.” I pause. “But I work with them every day. I won’t miss not having my own.”
Dad shoots me a curious glance, like he’s not sure if I’m joking or serious. “Where’d this come from?”
I lift one shoulder, not looking up.
“Have you talked to your mom?”
He knows that I found out about Mom and Shirley, and that I was having a hard time with it.
“Yes. Just the other day. I went over to give her a Christmas present and we talked. Things are okay. It’s going to take me some time to…process things. I still feel like she’s to blame for this.”
“I don’t want you to blame anyone,” he says quietly, staring straight ahead, his jaw set. “There’s no one reason our marriage ended. There’s no one reason people get married. No one reason we stayed together thirty-two years. Relationships aren’t just one thing; they’re a million things, a million moments, some little, some huge. And there’s no one reason a marriage ends. So don’t look for someone or something to blame.”
My heart constricts. I don’t want to make this all emotional and weird, though. “Okay,” I manage to say. “I…She says she really loved you.”
He swallows. “Yeah. And I believe her.”
“Did you doubt it, though? You must have questioned it…”
He clears his throat. “Honestly, I didn’t. Your mom and I had a lot of wonderful years together. I believe she loved me.”
Wow. Dad is so strong. So…decent. He’s a good man. “Are you really doing okay?”
“I really am. Don’t worry about me, Tater Tot.”
I huff out a small laugh.
“It’s hard, not gonna lie,” he says. “But sometimes doing what you have to do to be happy is hard. It takes a lot of strength, but that’s what tough times teach us…how strong we are. I’m going to be just fine.”
“Okay, good.”
“It’s not because of us that you think you’ll never get married, is it?”
I sip coffee from the travel mug I’m holding. “If you two couldn’t make it, who can?”
“Don’t think like that. Lots of people make it. And you have so much love in you.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I’m choking up again.
He’s right. I’ve always felt that way. I love dogs. I love kids. I love life. I love…love.
I’ve been telling myself I don’t care about love, but it’s not true. I still want it.
I think…I want it with JP.
Especially after last night. We talked about my visit with my mom, and he was so supportive and understanding. We opened our gifts and he couldn’t have given me anything better. I touch the golden sunflower nestled between my breasts and almost tear up all over again.
And he made me see stars…no, not just stars. He made me see the stars, the sun, the moon…with his usual generosity, he gave me everything, and I tried to give it all back to him.
Dad and I talk more as we drive, the Pacific glinting blue and silver on our right as we cruise along the highway that hugs the coast. We talk about his business, the house he’s going to make an offer on, funny stories from the kids I work with. And when we grow quiet, I think more about what he said earlier. About the moments. A million little moments.
The look on JP’s face when he opened my gift to him. His nervousness when I opened mine. Those were moments…small but weighty. Fleeting but momentous.
Relationships are hard. I guess. It’s been a while since I had one, and I don’t know if my two college boyfriends even count as that. What I feel with JP seems…different. Bigger. Important. It feels like…everything I ever wanted or needed or even imagined having.
When I used to believe in big, beautiful forever love.
JP
In my own defense, I’ve been a little distracted, thinking about Taylor. That must be why I decided at the last minute to bring Byron to Grandpa and Chelsea’s place for Christmas dinner.
I don’t even want to go. At Thanksgiving, I vowed I would be the one to host so I could get totally shitfaced and not have to drive anywhere, but that’s not happening. Maybe with a little more time, I could have gotten someplace to cater a turkey dinner, but I’m sure as shit not cooking a turkey myself. I don’t even know how to cook a turkey.
Byron’s happy to jump into my car. He probably thinks we’re going to the beach or to see Taylor. “No such luck, buddy,” I tell him glumly. “I need you tonight to distract my family from giving me shit, okay?”
He looks like he’s smiling back at me. I give him a thumbs-up.
Christ. I’m talking to him like he’s a person. The same thing I used to tease Taylor about.
I went over to Mom and Dad’s place this morning to exchange gifts. Théo and Lacey were there too, all cute and in love. I can’t believe it, but they make me miss Taylor.
Byron’s pretty excited when we get to Grandpa’s. He has no idea where we are and he bounds around the house checking things out, sniffing crotches and searching out food. Everyone loves him, so that’s good.
“Oh, a dog!” Chelsea exclaims. “Come here, boy! What’s his name?”
“Byron.”
“Such a good boy!” She gives him love and attention, which the dude enjoys. I don’t blame him. Isn’t that what we all want? “Is this the dog you’re looking after?”
“Yeah.”
“We need children,” Mom says. “Les enfants. Christmas is so much fun with children. Why do we not have any grandchildren here?”
“We do.” I point at myself, then Théo.
“Tu te crois malin,” she says, basically calling me a smart-ass. “I mean babies. You and Théo need to get going on that.”
“Up to you, bro,” I tell him. “Not happening here.”
“Oh, come on.” Lacey winks at me. “You and Taylor could have beautiful babies.”
“Oh!” Mom looks at me hopefully. “Are things getting serious with you two? I wish she was here! I want to meet her!”
I take the drink Chelsea offers me. Man, I need this.
In It to Win It Page 21
