Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
And now… it was over.
It was all over.
* * *
We settled Taylor back into my old room on the first floor since she couldn’t get upstairs to hers. My room had long since been a guest room that essentially collected odds and ends. The bed had been pushed into a far corner to make room for an elliptical and sewing machine. Right now, all of Ashley’s current business venture products were scattered across the space. Though she promised to move everything upstairs.
Taylor used her crutches, which she was still trying to figure out how to best maneuver with through the pain, to get into the empty bed. I carried my carry-on up the stairs and placed it into Taylor’s room. Nothing had changed since she moved out. It still looked like a young artist’s dream with sketches and poems plastering the blue walls. Paint and clay and notebooks filled every available space. Her bedspread was a map of the constellations.
It felt weird to stay here. I hadn’t stayed here for more than a night since my dad kicked me out at seventeen. My dad had kicked me out at sixteen, but it hadn’t stuck. The second time, it had, and I’d moved in with my boyfriend. A boyfriend I’d promptly broken up with after graduation. How I’d ever gone to UCLA and made something of myself was a real mystery.
But I wasn’t here for a walk down memory lane. I was here for Taylor. At least for a little while as she got settled, started with her new doctor, and got into physical therapy. My dad had gotten her a medical exemption for the semester at The New School. I just hoped she’d be able to go back to school after all of this. I couldn’t imagine wanting to return to New York.
That was a conversation for later. Much later.
Since my dad had to get back to work and Ashley had recently gotten a part-time job working at a daycare, I promised to take Taylor to her appointments when no one else was around. It was monotonous. And Taylor was unsurprisingly in a shit mood about it. She was still upset that she hadn’t been allowed to see Bea. Seeing as there was nothing I could do about that, she seemed to take it out on me more.
I didn’t really care. I was used to clients taking out their issues on me. It just sounded like background noise. And anyway, none of them had been shot. So, I cut her some slack.
Even if being back at home was super strange, being back in LA felt… wonderful. It felt like home. The constant weather. The horrid commuter traffic. Even the smell was different than New York.
Taylor had gone to bed early. I sat up late on the couch with my computer in my lap. I was still plotting out my business. Deciding if I even wanted to do it. I had to push back my appointments with the real estate agent. I didn’t even know if I was going to open the business… let alone open in New York.
Suddenly, I heard someone coming down the steps. Everyone in my house went to bed early and woke early. Since I was still sleeping like absolute shit, I did neither. And I was surprised that anyone was awake.
My dad appeared in those same shorts he’d always worn and a plain gray T-shirt. “Hey, Bug.”
“Dad,” I said with a nod of my head.
“Want a beer?”
I arched an eyebrow. “This late?”
“Eh, never hurt anyone.”
“Sure. I’ll have one.”
He went into the kitchen and came out with two Heinekens. He passed one to me, and I silently sipped the beer. I didn’t drink a lot of beer. But it used to be the only thing I could afford. It brought me back to being seventeen with a dirtbag boyfriend or being a groupie in the back of a rock star’s bus or going to frat parties. Lots of frat parties.
“You know, I appreciate what you’ve done for Taylor,” he said after a minute.
“I don’t mind at all.”
“But when are you moving on?”
I blinked up at him. “What?”
“It’s time for you to go.”
“Are you kicking me out?” I stammered out. “Again?”
“No, it’s not like before.”
“Then, what? You don’t want me here?” I couldn’t keep the sad, broken thing inside of me from unraveling.
“That’s not it either. You have a life. And you can’t just hide here.”
I swallowed hard. “So, you want me to leave?”
“I want you to live.”
I shook my head and closed my computer. I took another long sip of my drink. “I am living. I just need to take a break from everything that went wrong.”
“I know you told me some of what happened. I confess not to understand most of it. But what I did get out of it is that there’s a boy back in New York City who loves you,” my dad said.