He continues to massage my head, like he’s been doing, slowly rubbing my scalp and pulling his fingers through my hair. It probably looks atrocious, but I don’t care.
Taysom certainly doesn’t care if my hair looks atrocious, so why should I?
“They’re so blind.” He frowns and his massaging becomes a little more rough. “You have a few years under your belt already. And anyone with eyes and half a brain can see that your dedication and expertise make up for not working in the industry for a decade.”
“Thanks.” I appreciate his enthusiasm. “You’re a pretty good support, you know that?” I pat Miley, who is passed out asleep on my belly, as I stretch my legs long. “So is she. She’s so warm.”
Taysom’s gaze flicks over both of us and I don’t think I’m mistaking the sweet sweep of protectiveness on his face. We haven’t yet defined what we have. How can we? Both of our lives could be turned upside down in the next few weeks or months.
I don’t want to work in Tulsa or anywhere that’s going to take me away from Taysom. And I don’t want him to get traded to another team.
Still, I have to be okay with where we’re at right now.
“Do you think our adoring public misses her?” Taysom tilts his head in Miley’s direction. “I’ve kind of liked not having to film videos lately, though.”
We haven’t done a video since the night after the gait analysis, where we sat comfortably on Taysom’s couch—why were we not filming the videos at his place to begin with? It’s so much nicer than mine—and thanked everyone for their support and coming out for the gait analysis.
“I know, me too. It’s been nice. But maybe at some point we should hop on and say hello?” I don’t exactly know why, but I’m a lot more comfortable being in front of the camera now. “Besides, the world needs to see Miley in her getup.”
Taysom snorts. “No. It’s embarrassing.”
“Miley, don’t listen to him. You do you. Let your beauty shine and be proud of it.” I giggle as I straighten the fluted edges ofher pink and purple “cat shirt,” which I bought online in a fit of sadness over the Center slowly dying right in front of my eyes.
Seriously. Skyler’s last day was today and with him went a bunch of work spirit and even more of our stuff. The walls have been stripped bare. Even our fiddle leaf plant seems to be giving up the ghost.
Willa and I shed a few tears over it in the parking lot after work.
I feel like I’m dying, too.
“Huh. I like those words, Charlotte. You should tell them to yourself, as well. You should be proud of your beauty.” Taysom knows I used to have self-esteem issues. Okay, maybe I still do and I probably always will, but just yesterday, I did something new.
“Hey, I’ll have you know that yesterday at work, I wore my hair in a clip, instead of a bun, which I consider a win. My co-workers, what’s left of them, kept commenting on how much hair I have and that they like the color and they had no idea because I always keep it pulled back.”
“I’m proud of you, Charlotte. This sunset hair needs to be worn with pride.”
I sigh. For a brief moment, I’m not concerned about all the issues plaguing our lives, but I feel happy. Grateful. Excited for the future.
“Thank you, Taysom.” I sigh. “I visited MJ in the hospital today during my lunch break.”
“How is she?”
Miley has started stabbing me in the chest with her claws, so I gently remove them from my shirt and sit up so I can set her down on the floor. She immediately jumps right back up and noses Taysom’s arm, so he’ll pet her.
“She’s doing well,” I say, the look of fatigue on her face still in the forefront of my mind. “Surgery went well, so now it’srecovery time. Things have changed since I had the procedure done as a kid, so thankfully, she should have an easier time than I did. Still, it’s going to be a long road.”
“I bet she loved seeing you.”
I grin. “She did. I brought her some of her favorite toys from the center.” I shrug. “Might as well. Ron and Tracy will keep a lot of the center’s supplies in some storage spaces in their new building, but there won’t be room for all of it.”
His finger trails lightly down my nose. “How are you doing? With all of this?”
“Friday’s my last day. I just confirmed that with Ron and Tracy.”
“They just might have to use a police escort to get you to leave the building, huh?” Taysom teases. Yet, there’s a sadness, a kindness, in his eyes.
“Maybe.” I sigh with a slight smile. “I can’t believe it’s really going to be over.” Every time I think of it or say those words, a pulsing thrums inside of me, like my body is daring me to believe there could be an alternative.
“Look, I’ve been thinking of something,” Taysom says. “And I haven’t brought it up because I don’t want you to be mad.”
