We fall into our usual rhythm—he tells me about practice, I tell him about my clients, we complain about being in different time zones even though it’s only an hour difference. It’s comfortable. Easy.
And it’s killing me.
“I should probably go,” Taysom says eventually, though he doesn’t look like he wants to. “Early conditioning tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I should shower. De-yogurt myself.”
“Charlotte?”
“Hmm?”
“I miss you.” His voice is raw in a way that makes my throat tight.
“I miss you too.” The words come out barely above a whisper.
“Eight more days until I fly back for the weekend.”
I shrug, trying to put on a brave face. “Who’s counting?”
“Me. Definitely me.” He runs his hand over his face. “This is harder than I thought it would be.”
“Yeah.” I swallow hard. “It really is.”
After we hang up, I sit there for a long moment, Miley curled in my lap, the house too quiet around me.
I got what I wanted. The center reopened. I have my job back. I’m working with MJ again, making a real difference in these kids’ lives.
So why do I feel so down?
I stare at the blank phone screen, Taysom’s face still burned into my mind, and the truth hits me like a freight train.
I’m not excited about this job. I’m grateful, sure. I love the kids. I love the work.
But I’m notexcited.
What excites me is the thought of doing this work in the same city as the man I’m desperately in love with. I want to come home to Taysom in the flesh, not just a video call. I crave building a life together, not counting down the days until a weekend visit.
Miley meows, and I scratch behind her ears.
“What do you think, girl? Am I crazy?”
She purrs, which I choose to interpret as support.
We pulled off the impossible, Taysom and I, when we saved the center. My life is grounded and good now that I’ve found my footing in my new roles both as the lone O.T. at the center and as Taysom’s girlfriend. How about pulling off the impossible a second time by figuring out a way for us to live in the same city—for us to both get what we want?
My mind travels over so many steps, big and small that would make that possible. Thiscouldwork, right? For the first time in weeks, I feel something shift in my chest.
Not fear.
Hope.
Chapter 36
Taysom
Two Months Later
Thespreadsheetonmylaptop is mocking me.
