"This is getting serious."
Understatement of the year.
"I guess so." Taylor shrugs. She's definitely being coy. "It hasn't been that long."
I liked to think after all this time, I knew her as well as I knew myself. It isn't like her to be so reserved about something. I adore her, but nothing with her is done in half measures...love included. It's either bubbling over with excitement or picking herself off of the floor (there's been many times where I've filled in for her mother, a pinch hitter of sorts and picked her up myself), no real in between. The only other time I've seen her hold back this much was with Joe. Things weren't good, I could tell...anyone with a set of eyes could tell, but she kept a lot in, shoved it all down.
We've been having early morning breakfast meetings over FaceTime for as long as I can remember. It's typically a debrief and then we'll save the last half hour to gossip and talk about life. She'll ask how Lance is doing, how my daughter is doing and we shoot the shit.
I take a gulp of coffee, hot enough to cause third degree burns on my uvula and I like it that way...I go for scalding showers, too. "So, tell me why you're having furniture delivered to the new house while he's at practice again?"
Taking one look at her these days, whether it's through a screen or in person, it's apparent that the quiet isn't because she's unhappy; I haven't seen her with a glow like this in a very long time. For reaching out on a "whim," it certainly seems like everything worked out.
I like Travis. He willingly signed an NDA ("For the love of God, Tree, please don't make it weird," she'd pleaded), he was pleasant and nice. The biggest thing was how he treated Taylor. Goes without saying I'm protective of her, not simply because I'm paid to be. I love her and her happiness is important to me.
Of course, I still worry. I've always made it a point not to meddle in her personal relationships. Number one, it wasn't my place and secondly, I'd been through enough with my own daughter to know that until she was ready to hear it, she wasn't going to listen to anything I said. My allegiance is to Taylor, first and foremost and as much as I mind my business, I never want to see her hurt.
Being by her side, I had. Many times and every single tear, every ounce of sadness, I was there for, sometimes reaching out my hand for her to hold onto, sometimes scraping her off the floor if need be.
I also trust her judgement. Even if she doesn't always...I can tell a good thing when I see one. And this is a very, very good thing. That sparkle is back, the one that had fizzled out only to be replaced by a Taylor none of us really knew. It's a comforting relief, but more than that, to recognize that calm, to acknowledge she isn't just pushing through because she has to means a lot.
Now, as I watch her, even playing it cool, her eyes are bright, only bothering to hide her smile for a second or two before it bursts from her and she laughs musically.
"You know me...can't resist. His old place looked like a frat house. No shade at all," she quickly adds and now I laugh, too. "When his ex left, he told her to take it all with her, so there was nothing really left. This new place is a chance to start over."
"And he asked you to pick it out?"
Her cheeks hold an interesting shade of pink. "He told me he trusted my judgement. Asked him if he wanted me to run anything by him first, send him some pictures, but he told me he had a feeling he'd like whatever I chose. He wants to me to have a say on paint colors and the kitchen remodel, too, so..."
I blink hard. "He's remodeling the kitchen for you?"
I know I've caught her off-guard because she chokes a little on the sip of water she's just taken and I apologize as she wipes the tears from her eyes.
