Love Rekindled (Love Surfaced) (9 page)

“Well, if I wasn’t a piece of shit, you’d still be in love with me.”

Who’s saying I’m not?

“I’m going to extend a branch, Brad, but that’s all.” He doesn’t need to know I’m close to giving him our whole tree.

“That’s all I need. Just give me a chance.”

“Okay.”

“But, Taylor, I’m warning you; I’m not going away.”

I nod, even though he can’t see me. A small part of me likes it that he’s going to be fighting for us. I just have to trust him enough to let him. That’s the hard part.

“Okay.”

“Please give me another word.”

“Yes.”

“Taylor,” he pleads, and I hear his turn signal go off again.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

“Hmm . . .” I can imagine he’s nibbling on the inside of his cheek, thinking about it. “Do you want to know about Piper and Tanner?”

“Nope. Something about you.”

“Okay, I like long walks and candlelight dinners.”

I cover my mouth to conceal the burst of laughter that’s threatening to pour out. “Seriously.”

“I am serious,” he argues, but he’s laughing as well.

We talk for another hour about how he got fired and his roommate Dylan, Tanner’s brother. He touches on Piper and Tanner, their problems, and how they reconciled at his wedding, but I can tell he’s hesitant about sharing because of the fact he was going to marry someone who wasn’t me. He’s moved from his truck to his apartment, and I waited on the line while he took off his shirt to climb into bed. What I wouldn’t do for a selfie of him right about now.

“I guess I should get to bed. She wakes up early.” I yawn, stretching my limbs.

“Okay. If you can’t sleep, call me back because I’ll be awake.” He doesn’t sound groggy at all.

“Brad, I have to work late tomorrow. Would you like to pick Em up from daycare?” I bite my nail, because as much as it frightens me, I have to extend the branch. Some might think it’s too soon, but I know Brad. Plus, I want this to be as amicable as possible.

“I’d love to. What time?”

“Five o’clock. I’ll text you the address. There will be a list of instructions on the counter for you when you get here.”

“I got it. I’m an adult.” He laughs, but whether he knows it or not, this is a huge step for me.

“I know, it’s just . . . Okay, I’m going to tell her daycare provider you’ll be picking her up.”

“Sounds good. Get some sleep.”

“Good night, Brad.” I wish I could stay on the phone with him all night, but I can’t let him in completely, and after talking with him for just a little bit, I know it would be too easy. He’ll slide back into my heart without me even knowing it.

“Good night.” I move to hang up.

“Wait, Taylor?”

“Yeah.” I bring the phone back to my ear.

“Thank you.” His voice is humble and gracious. Everything I’d hoped for in this moment.

“You’re welcome.”

We finally hang up, and I lay in bed wondering if it’s even possible for me to fight my feelings for him.

“Mama!” A small hand smacks my face.

I bolt up, my heart racing. My eyes fly to the monitor to see it’s disappeared from my bedside. Then I find a tall figure in my doorframe, still dressed in his clothes from the night before and a smirk plastered on his boyish face.

“Good morning,” I say to Em, pulling her small body to mine.

“Sorry.” Sam’s voice is low as he walks into the room and hesitantly sits on the edge of the bed. “I made you breakfast.” His eyes cast down to the floor, and I hate the fact that I’m part of the reason he feels this way. Us Delaney girls have taken his heart for granted too many times in his life.

“Okay. I have the late shift today.”

He looks up with hurt in his eyes. “I know.”

Of course he does, he probably knows my schedule better than me. The room quiets, and lucky for us, we have an almost two-year-old to break the silence.

“Play!” she demands, jumping on my bed. I hold her hand as she catapults from my mattress and falls down into the softness.

Sam smiles at her. “Let’s give Mommy time to get ready.” He holds his arms out for her and she bounces over to him until she’s secure in his arms.

“I’ll be right down,” I say, covering myself as much as I can. No need to show off what little cleavage I have.

They leave and I throw off my covers and move into my bathroom. I grab some yoga pants and a T-shirt, figuring I’ll shower during her naptime.

By the time I reach the bottom of the stairs, Em is laughing uncontrollably and Sam is doing his elevator impersonation where he disappears around the wall. It’s like a jab to the chest knowing Sam will have to step back in order for Brad to come forward. I’ve worked the angle, and there’s no doubt about it. Then again, ultimately, Sam knew his time with Em was going to be cut short.

Looking around, I notice the blanket is folded up nicely and swung over the chair again. Em’s toys are strewn around, and I wonder how long they’ve been awake. Sam catches me coming from the corner of his eye, and he rushes over to give Em a kiss on the cheek.

“Gotta go, I’m late.”

“Sam, wait.” I eye Em to see she’s busy trying to use her fork to pick up her pancakes.

I follow him to the door, but he’s moving so fast, I barely catch him before he escapes.

“Sam,” I plead. He inhales a deep breath and looks over my shoulder instead meeting my eyes. “We need to talk.”

“I get it, Tay, and I’m sorry for barging in last night.”

“He’s her father.”

He looks outside to the lawn covered with fallen leaves.

“That’s not all,” he mumbles, probably hoping I don’t hear him.

“Don’t, Sam.”

“Don’t what, Tay? Don’t call you out for still loving someone who threw you to the side for a piece of pussy.” His eyes meet mine, red and fierce. I step back and he shakes his head. “It’s the truth. You never even thought about us because you might have run away from him, but you were running away from yourself too.”

“Me?” My fingers jam to my chest. “What about you? You’re still hung up on my sister. Clue in, Sam. She’s fucking around just to score drugs. You’re the laughingstock of Roosevelt.”

“Takes one to know one.” He twists the knife a little more. I can’t fault him for spouting the truth. The Delaney family has been the joke of Roosevelt for as long as I can remember.

“Well, aren’t we the fucked-up ones then?” I glance to Em, finding her still enthralled with her fork and pancakes.

“It’s just . . . whatever. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.” His distant eyes look everywhere but at me.

“Me too.”

Silence fills the small space, and he looks at his watch.

“I’m late. We’ll talk tonight.” He steps onto the porch and I hold the door open.

“Sam.” He turns around, and I know I’m about to crush him. “Brad’s picking her up.”

His lips straighten and I watch the emotions cross his face before he gives me a simple nod.

“Gotcha.” He turns and steps off the porch.

“Please, Sam, try to understand,” I say, but he waves his hand in the air.

“Mama!” Em screams, and I turn from Sam’s retreating back to find her wiggling to stand up in her high chair.

“Hold on, baby.” I close the door, run over to her, and catch her right before she falls to the floor. “No standing. You wait until Mommy can get you.” I semi-scold her. I’ve never been good at that whole strict parenting role.

I place her down and she scurries over to the window. “Sm.” She hits the window and my heart breaks. The little girl has no idea she might lose Sam to gain her dad. It’s a hard lesson for a two-year-old to learn.

Just then, my phone dings and I retrieve it from my back pocket. Brad’s name shows on my screen and my heart leaps.

Brad: Good morning to my girls.

Not such a good morning for me, but it’s getting better.

Me: Good morning.

Brad: I hope that lump is off your couch.

Me: That would be none of your business.

Brad: Hmm . . . I don’t agree with that line of thinking. When it comes to you and my daughter, it’s my business.

Me: Here’s the address. Pick her up at five. I’ll be home around eight. I’ll lay out her pajamas and her sippy cup of milk will be in the fridge.

Brad: Hey, what do you think of me? I got this. I’m a damn baby whisperer.

Me: I’ll bet money she’s up when I return home.

Brad: Bet taken. She’ll be fast asleep. What is her bedtime anyway?

Me: Seven. Directions will be on the kitchen table.

Brad: Pfft. I don’t need directions. I’m Brad Ashby.

Me: Arrogant as always. See you tonight.

Brad: You love my ego, don’t try to deny it. See you.

I place my phone down and Em walks back through the family room, her head down with a stuffed animal in her hand. It’s the elephant Sam bought her this past summer at the zoo.

“Sm,” she says, and my lips turn down, as I hold my arms out to her as an invitation to come. She shuffles her limp body into my arms.

“He’ll be back.” I soothe her hair.

After a second, she forgets and squirms to break free of my hold. I miss the days when she’d let me hold her for hours. That ended once she could walk.

“Let’s play,” I say, cherishing the small amount of time I’m blessed with her due to my work schedule. These five day, eight hour shifts are a killer on my quality time with her. But that’s a small hospital for you.

She smiles bright and runs behind the couch where all her toys are stashed.

Brad

DYLAN SITS AT THE KITCHEN
table putting together another model car. At least it’s a 1969 Chevy Camaro. He’s working remotely for two weeks before packing up and moving to Chicago. Talk about no notice. How nice of the shit company.

I plop down in the chair across from him, watching his precise fingers fiddle with the small pieces. He’s been building these things since we were little, and I never understood the point. While Tanner and I would be playing basketball or swimming, he’d be inside with one of his kits. I thought he’d grow out of it when he went to college, but from the amount scattered around the apartment that didn’t happen.

He peeks up at me. “You look like shit,” he remarks and continues what he’s doing, which I believe is attaching the muffler.

“Well, thank you.” I slouch down in the chair, the cold air chilling my bare chest. Winter in Michigan sucks.

“Is the heat on?” I shiver and Dylan shakes his head in annoyance.

“Put on a damn shirt for once,” he mumbles.

“You have a girl over?”

“No.”

“Oh, I figured you didn’t want her jumping at me after seeing your scrawny chest.”

Truth, Dylan is anything but scrawny, but he’s my best friend’s younger brother. Isn’t it mandatory to razz him?

He shakes his head, never coming back at me with a smart ass answer himself.

“Can we talk?” I lean my elbows on the table.

His green eyes flicker up at me and he nods. “What’s up?”

“You can’t talk to anyone else, got it? This stays here.” I tap my finger on the table.

“Okay.”

“No, I mean it. Not Tanner, not parents, and not Bea.” I point to him and he chuckles.

“I said okay.”

He places the small tube of glue to the side and leans back in his chair.

“I have a daughter,” I divulge, my heart swelling with the words. I thought for sure it would scare me beyond belief, but after being up all night, I’m at peace with it. My only concern is that I have no job to provide for her. Swimming lessons aren’t exactly going to put a roof over her head. Then again, her mom’s already done that. Taylor . . . she’s amazing.

His lips quirk up. “Figured one would pop up eventually. Who’s the mom? The brunette from last month, or that girl from the bar last week. Shit.” He runs his hand through his dark, wavy hair. “Please tell me it isn’t Bayli.”

“No, no, and hell no. Don’t make shit up.” He knows full well, I’ve been celibate since Bayli.

He laughs, dropping the small piece of metal in his hand.

“Taylor,” I say. Dylan doesn’t know Taylor, but he’s heard about her. Probably hears me calling her name as I jack off at night.

His green eyes widen and he expels a long stream of air.