Monroe Golden is officially sick and tired of her life when she decides to move to New York. Moving to New York from South Carolina all alone with her baby, was definitely a horrible idea.
However, staying in South Carolina was no longer an option...
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MONROE
The thud of footsteps climbing the loft's staircase and the soft knock that followed were becoming my favorite sounds. She might only come up to hold Alessandro, but every time Taylor showed up at my door in the middle of the night, it was like a warm hug.
It had been a long time since I'd been hugged.
She came right inside, taking off her shoes before stealing a crying Alessandro from my arms. A flash of pain crossed her face like she'd gotten a papercut. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I swore I saw it each time she held Alessandro. It was gone in an instant as Taylor set out on her regular path across the room.
"What's the problem tonight, boss?" That smooth voice was as comforting to me as it was to my son.
"Sorry we woke you up."
She turned at the wall and frowned. Taylor, I'd learned, wasn't a fan of my apologies.
I made them regardless.
"Rest, Monroe." She nodded toward the bed, but I went to the couch, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders.
In the past month, I'd spent twelve nights on this couch, watching as the most beautiful woman I'd ever laid eyes on carried my son. Twelve nights and my crush on Taylor Swift was as strong as the coffee I made each morning in my new maker.
The weather had shifted and October's cold night temperatures meant there was no need to leave the window open. How Taylor heard Alessandro cry from her house, I wasn't sure, but I hadn't mustered the nerve to ask. Whatever, however, she knew, I was simply grateful for the reprieve.
And for a little time alone with a woman almost too good to be true.
"Was he like this last night?" Taylor asked.
"No. He only cried for a bottle but after I fed him, he went right back to sleep."
"Progress. Just keep growing and we'll get through this." Taylor put Alessandro on her shoulder, exactly where my son preferred to be.
Maybe it was her smell, her voice, or the easy cadence of her swagger. My son preferred Taylor's chest to mine.
My son was no fool.
I was as enchanted as my baby.
Taylor was wearing gray sweats tonight that pooled at her feet. She had on a white sleeveless T-shirt.
My curiosity about Taylor was as insatiable as it was dangerous. The more I learned, the harder I crushed.
"The eagle is my favorite bird," she shared.
Taylor passed the couch. The blue-white nightlights I'd added to the loft illuminated her skin. "Dad bought eight horses years ago and Austin named them all after the planets. Mars is mine."
