Business
The first time I wake up, I’m vaguely aware that there’s a body wrapped around mine, shamelessly spooning me. Even in my still sleepy state, it only takes me a moment to realize it’s Carrick. Since he’s moved here, it feels like we’ve spent more nights sleeping together than we have apart. I know that isn’t really true, but that’s how familiar the feeling of his body next to mine is. He’s so comfortable that I fall back to sleep easily, even though I’m sure it must be fairly late in the morning, if the sunlight streaming in the blinds I forgot to close is anything to judge by.
The second time I wake up, I’m alone, but it only takes me a moment to smell breakfast. Well, food. I can’t quite identify what I’m smelling, but it’s definitely food, and that’s good enough for me. Waking up to a home cooked breakfast courtesy of Carrick is becoming a pretty familiar feeling, too. I should probably feel guilty for letting him wait on me so much but I can honestly admit that I don’t. With everything else that’s going on in my life lately, I’m willing to indulge myself in one tiny way, and that way happens to be Carrick’s delicious cooking.
I follow my nose to the kitchen and find exactly what I expected to see—Carrick, hovering over my stove in nothing but his tight jeans. It’s a very, very welcome sight, and I shamelessly stare for a moment before walking the rest of the way into the room.
“Morning,” I say as I scan the refrigerator for something non-alcoholic to drink. Mountain Dew it is.
“So it is,” Carrick replies. “I had a feeling the smell of bacon would wake you up.”
“Bacon?” I echo, letting the refrigerator door slam shut.
Carrick chuckles. “Among other things, but yes, I did make bacon for you. I had to get kind of creative, so we’re having breakfast burritos. I’m surprised you had any vegetables at all. And an avocado?”
“I wanted guacamole,” I reply with a shrug.
He nods as if that explains everything. If I wanted guacamole, why didn’t I just buy it? Clearly I should not be trusted to do my own grocery shopping, but at least Carrick found it amusing. To Kate, I was sure it was just another sign that I was incapable of being a functioning adult. Maybe she was right.
Because, as we’ve already established, I’m not a functioning adult, I stay out of Carrick’s way while he finishes cooking the burritos. Like everything else he cooks, they’re delicious, and we both shamelessly go back for seconds. I don’t know about him, but for me it’s certainly a delaying tactic. I know we’re both supposed to go into the studio today, and I really wish we could just stay here all day. Or forever.
But we can’t.
All too soon, we’re tossing our plates in the sink and heading to the bathroom to get ready for the day. My one minor victory is convincing Carrick to shower with me. It takes just as much time as showering separately and involves a lot more cuddling than getting clean, but that’s why I call it a victory. I think he catches onto my plan to delay the inevitable when I give up on washing entirely and just lean against the shower wall, my arms wrapped tightly around him.
Naturally, he doesn’t let me get away with it, and it’s only minutes before he’s dragging me out the door.
I’m too lazy to walk and I like the possibility of making a quick getaway if needed, so I decide to drive to the studio. Carrick grumbles about the waste of gas and I just call him a hippie. It is a pretty short distance to drive. Oh well. Might as well get there as quickly as I can and get it over with, like ripping off a bandaid.
I park my truck behind the studio and my heart drops when I see Taylor’s car is there. I was really hoping he was running late. Better yet, maybe he just wouldn’t show up at all. Late was always a distinct possibility, and it would have given me time to hide or something. Of course I can’t be that lucky.
Carrick has to practically push me out of my truck, but finally, I get my feet to work and carry me into the office. There’s not a lot of noise, but just enough to let me know there’s something of a crowd around. That’s good. I like crowds. The more people I can put between me and Taylor, the better. I know I’m being irrational, though. We’re supposed to be working. I can’t avoid him, and Carrick can’t even stay by my side, because he’s supposed to be recording. We’re barely in the door before he’s abandoned me and I have no choice but to walk into the office portion of the building and face my brother.
At least he doesn’t look up from his computer at first. I consider that a small win for me, and I throw myself into my desk chair. Once my computer has booted up, I dive into the pile of email I have waiting for me. There’s nothing really interesting, but it’s one of those tasks I have to do everyday or they just keep coming and coming until I’m drowning in a sea of fan letters.
I’m about halfway through the day’s mail when Taylor clears his throat.
“So, umm… don’t shoot the messenger or anything, but I was told to ask if and when you were going to go back and get some more of your stuff.”
I blink. Well, that didn’t take long. Soon I’m sure Kate will be throwing the rest of my things into storage somewhere.
“I mean, I don’t care, but Nat said to ask, so…” Taylor says, rolling his eyes.
“Kate passed a message for me through Nat?” I ask, because I can’t even begin to comprehend what’s happening beyond that strange fact.
Taylor just shrugs. “She mentioned it, I guess. Just that you still had some stuff there that you needed to get. Like I said, don’t shoot the messenger.”
“Yeah, whatever,” I mumble, then turn back to my computer screen.
It still absolutely amazes me that Taylor can carry on such a seemingly normal conversation with me, as though nothing else has happened between us. I almost envy his ability to divide his brain up into such neat little boxes, but then… I don’t. It’s like he has no emotions at all, and as nice as that sounds at times… I can’t help thinking that it must be really miserable.
So why doesn’t he seem miserable?
“Look, Zac… it’s none of my business what’s going on with you and Kate. I’m sorry I even mentioned it.”
Did Taylor actually just apologize for something? I have to replay his words a few times in my mind to be sure I heard him correctly. There’s got to be a catch. I turn and raise an eyebrow at him. “Is this the part where you remind me that it’s also none of my business what’s going on with you and Natalie?”
Taylor shakes his head. “No, I wasn’t going to… I mean, yeah. I guess it isn’t, but I think that ought to be pretty clear by now.”
“If you and me are…” I trail off and shake my head. “If we’re going to do what we did, then yeah, I think it is my business.”
“Does that mean I get to have an opinion on you and Carrick?” Taylor asks, a look somewhat akin to amusement on his face.
Well, he’s got me there. I know I’m being hypocritical and demanding too much of an emotional connection from Taylor. I’m just expecting him to feel the same way that I do. Obviously he doesn’t. I can’t force it.
I shake my head. “Just… just forget it. Go fuck a dozen other people, too. See if I care.”
“You will, though,” he replies matter-of-factly. “I know you will and… and that’s okay. I get it.”
“Do you?” I reply, scooting my chair closer to his. “Do you really get it, Tay?”
He stares at me blankly for a moment, then nods. “I think I do, actually. I don’t understand it… any of it… but, yeah, I can clearly see you have feelings for me.”
“Well, give the man a prize.” I’m not sure where this sarcasm is coming from. Can I blame the breakfast burritos?
Taylor sighs and runs a hand through his hair, and for the first time since perhaps the wedding, I can see him struggling. I can see him hurting. It scares me a little, but it also makes me scoot closer to him in the vain hope that I can somehow take away his pain.
“Tay…” I began, unsure what I should say next, so I just trail off.
“You get how fucked up this is, right?” He asks, then chuckles. “But what about my life isn’t? Figures I’d end up… well.”
“Well what?” I ask.
“With you.”
With me? With me? Of all the things he is, that’s not really one of them. Is it?
There are so many things I want to say know, but all the words just die on my tongue. I can’t even imagine how dumb I must look, just staring at Taylor all wide-eyed. It doesn’t really matter, though, since he’s holding a staring contest with the floor.
“Tay… are you… I mean, what exactly are you…”
“It doesn’t matter, does it?” He mumbles. “You’ve got Carrick. I’m stuck… I’ve got Nat. And then there’s your divorce, and, oh yeah, we’re brothers. So what does it matter?”
“It matters,” I reply, “because I need to know. I need the truth, Tay.”
“The truth about what?”
“About us,” I say. “About what you feel.”
He gives me another look, and again, I can see the pain and the struggle. He doesn’t need to say it. I know what he feels, because it’s what I feel too. I’m certain of it now. I want to hear it, but I don’t want to hurt him any more. At a loss for what else to do, I scoot myself closer still, closing the gap between us and pressing my lips to his.
Taylor tenses at first, but a second later he relaxes and lets it happen. I only pull back when I hear footsteps. They’re a high-pitched tick tick tick, not the deep shuffle of any of the guys, and that realization makes my stomach turn. Sure enough, the second I come to my senses and begin scooting back to my desk, Natalie appears in the doorway.
“Oh, Tay,” she says, tugging a very unhappy looking Viggo into the room behind her. “You’re not busy, are you?”
He blinks, his eyes shifting to me for a split second before landing on Natalie. “Umm… no. Not at the moment.”
“Great,” she replies, smiling widely and nudging Viggo further into the room. “This little guy just does not want to help Mommy with the shopping. Do you think you could watch him for a while?”
“Sure,” he replies with a sigh that Natalie chooses to ignore.
As she ushers Viggo into the room, I can’t help thinking that he really doesn’t look all that upset. Sure, he looks unhappy, but it’s not as though he’s throwing a fit. A part of me thinks that somehow Natalie has planned this, but for what purpose, I don’t know. I don’t really want to understand how her brain works.
She takes her time saying goodbye to Taylor and I have to turn my back on them to ignore the entire charade. Now that I know how he feels, it sickens me even more to watch the act I know they’re both putting on. After she finally tires of saying goodbye a million different ways, Natalie turns to leave, barely even glancing in my direction. There’s something strange in her eyes, but when isn’t there?
She didn’t see us, did she? Surely not. I can’t imagine she would be so calm about that, but again, I never claimed to understand her. The one thing I can say with certainty about her is that I don’t like her. At all.
And I really, really hope she didn’t see us kiss.
Taylor doesn’t seem bothered at all, already engrossed in an animated conversation with Viggo about what they were shopping for. It hardly even seems like the conversation we had was real when Taylor has switched gears so quickly. Although I could see the cracks in the walls he’s built, the walls are still there. He’s still found a way to lock up his feelings and get back to business as usual.
A tiny part of me wishes I could, too.