Taste of Commitment (Whisky and Risky #2)

26. Taylor

Taylor

“What are you ladies getting up to tonight?” Isla asks, joining me at the small round table with a cup of tea.

“I’m not sure, honestly. I think I just got a pity invite so I don’t know all the details.”

“Aw, darling.” Her warm hand cups mine. “We’re a lot of things here but pitying isn’t one of them. You were invited, because whether you like it or not, you’re a part of the crew now.”

I keep my eyes on where her fingers brush over my hand because, for some unexplainable reason, Isla turns me into this sensitive person that I don’t recognize in myself.

“Hey Isla, I don’t mean to interrupt—” I look up to the doorway, finding a man who gives me a double take before smirking at me. “Nice to see you again, Miss. How have your brothers been? Catch any bears lately?”

I pull my lips between my teeth but feel the way the corners still pull up, and my cheeks warm as I recognize the cab driver who drove me here my first night.

“I don’t know what you’re prattling on about, Patrick.” Isla turns to face him. “But if you’re looking for The Langfords, Adam took them on a walk of the grounds a bit ago. They should be back soon.”

“Wonderful,” he says, dipping his head to me. “Enjoy your evening, ladies.”

We share a knowing smile before he exits the kitchen and Isla turns back to me.

“Silly lad,” she says, smiling. “Love him dearly, but lord help me sometimes with all these kids.”

Her maternal nature is palpable and as I look around the large, open kitchen I breathe a sigh of relief. For the first time in a long time—possibly even ever—I feel like this is where I’m supposed to be. I feel safe. I wonder how much of that is due to the kitchen. I’ve spent so many days dehydrating herbs, baking bread, and marinating meat in, or if it has more to do with the mother across the table from me.

“I was.” I clear my throat, surprised by the thickness in my voice. “I was wondering if you needed some help tomorrow, too?”

She holds up her hands, knuckles facing me. They’re still slightly bent but not as swollen as I noticed they were the other day. “I always need help in here.”

“Well, if you aren’t tired of me hanging around yet, I’d love to help.”

Her warm smile matches her eyes. “Taylor darling, I don’t think I could tire of you if I tried.”

My throat clogs, and my eyes burn. She not only says all the things I wish my own mother would have said to me, ever, just once, but I also feel the way I wish I could have felt around my mother. Isla says all the right things but more than that, she shows me kindness and respect that I never got from Caroline Nova. I mindlessly pick at my nails under the table until a metallic taste fills my mouth and I realize I’ve been chewing the inside of my lip .

“Are you alright?” she asks, covering my hands and dropping her head. I inhale sharply, nodding my head, and smile. “Well, I’d love to have you around, Taylor.”

I know we’re talking about help, and I know this is just who she is and how she treats everyone. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. But, for a moment I let myself believe that she does really want me here.

“Hey.” Liv comes barreling through the swinging door out of breath. “I’m sorry I’m so late, I got stuck helping Ryder again.”

“No worries.” I wave her off and stand from the table, dusting nothing off of my jeans.

“Alright, you girls have fun tonight,” Isla says, standing from the table.

I don’t know what force of nature prompts me to wrap my arms around her but before I know it she’s hugging me back.

“Okay, okay, what’s the craziest thing Max has ever done for you?” One of Sophie's friends, Cara, asks.

Everyone around the table is a handful of cocktails deep since we moved the wine and cheese party to The Saloon and Liam declared drinks were on him tonight.

“Well, he—” Her cool sleek black bob does nothing to hide the way she turns fifty shades of red. “He got my name tattooed on his…”

“Dick?!” her sister, Charlotte, shouts.

“What? No. His chest, you eejit.” She bats her sister's arm and the table erupts in laughter.

“So Taylor, you and Knox?” Sophie wiggles her eyebrows up and down while shimming her shoulders. Oohs and aahs sound off and when did I turn into the girl that blushes?

“It’s—” Fun? Serious? Exciting? I don’t know what it is, honestly. It feels like all of the above, but how can it be when we haven’t discussed what comes next? A long-distance relationship seems absolutely insane, but does staying seem any less crazy? “New,” I finally land on.

“You know, growing up, Knox was every girl in towns… what’s the word?” She leans across the table, looking up at the ceiling.

“Please don’t say it,” Liv says, dropping her head in her hands and I’m about to follow suit. I don’t care to know about Knox’s past relationships. I’m probably sitting at a table full of women he’s already slept with. Acid rolls in my stomach and threatens to come up my throat as I look around at all the beautiful and funny women I’ve gotten to know tonight.

“Crush!” she finally shouts, snapping her finger. Her sister and Cara nod their heads in confirmation.

“Oh, thank god,” Liv murmurs.

“I say this because he never gave much attention to anyone—unless they were a muscular man carrying a ball, anyway.” They all laugh, and even though it’s ridiculous to find comfort in something he did or didn’t do fifteen years ago, I find my stomach settling and some of the tension leaving my shoulders. “So to see him all wrapped up in you is nice.” She smiles at me, reaching across the table to pat my arm.

God these people are touchy-feely. I instinctively place my hand over hers. And apparently, I’m becoming one of them.

“This table looks a little lonely. How about a round of tequila slammers?” Liam calls out while setting a tray of shot glasses in front of us .

“We’re lonely because you’re working our girl Ava to the bone over there and we want her over here with us,” Sophie snaps.

“Yeah!” a chorus sounds out. Sophie pounds her fist on the table like a caged animal while Cara and Charlotte boo at him and poor Liam doesn’t stand a chance against this group.

His hand rests on the back of Liv’s chair where I’ve noticed she’s gone ramrod straight. She’s the only one not banging her glass on the table now and I know it has nothing to do with not wanting the model to join us.

He hangs his head with a defeated groan before holding up his hands in defense. “Alright!” he says. “Taylor, don’t let these women scare you off. We’re not all this insane here.” He throws a pointed glance at the girls and his towel over his shoulder before making his way back to the bar.

“Wait, how did I forget that you’re actually leaving?” Sophie’s lower lip juts out. “I swear in my mind this is just our usual girls’ night out.”

There’s a little tug in my chest at her words because, truthfully, I forget that this isn’t my life sometimes too.

“I’ve still got a week left.” I like to think I have a good read on people, I call it my sixth sense. I pay way too close to people’s micro facial movements and from the minute I met Sophie, I liked her. But when she pumps her fist in the air like she’s cheering me on for a beer chug, I know right here and now, she’s my kind of girl.

“Ladies!” Ava sings, waving her jazz hands as she approaches the table. Her long dark hair is effortlessly smooth down her back, her flawless skin glows even in dim lighting, and she somehow radiates pure joy. The chair next to me is the only seat left but her smile doesn’t falter when she has to sit next to me.

“Taylor, right? ”

“Yeah,” I smile.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, I’m Ava.”

“Nice to meet you, Ava. Did you go to school with everyone, too?”

“We went to secondary school together,” she says, reaching for one of the shot glasses. “I booked my first modeling gig at fifteen so I stopped going by senior cycle. Too much traveling to keep up with school.”

“That’s amazing. I’ve always wanted to travel. Liv said you just recently moved back?”

“I’ve been back a handful of times throughout the years, I could never stay away for too long, but yeah. I’m home for good now.”

“What made you decide to come back?”

“You just can’t beat this place, you know? As excited as I was to leave, I’ve always been more excited at the idea of coming home.” I want to tell her she’s corny, and to save her quotes about “Home is a feeling not a place.” But after having lived here for almost a month, I understand. If this were my home—I don’t even let myself finish the thought. I reach over, grab a shot glass, and hold it out to her.

“To finding your way home.”

“No matter where it ends up being,” she counters, raising a knowing brow to me. I throw my head back and my throat closes tightly, burning.

And then I take my shot.

“Say tekilla!” I smile, stretching my arm out to take a picture of Liv and me. “That’s a good one, look.”

“Awe, would you send that to me? ”

“Of course.” My head lulls on the seat back behind me as Patrick drives us back to Liv’s house. I open my photo album searching for the other photos I snagged of her tonight. I sit up when I go back a little too far and find the picture I took of Knox with the hammer over his head at the fair. He looks like a dark-haired, flannel-wearing, bearded Thor in that picture. The one before that is a selfie of us at the wedding—my silk green dress pressed up against his immaculate grey suit. I scroll back through some pastry pictures I took to send to Camila, some of the herbs from Isla’s garden house, and one of the many I have of the view from my room. My thumb drags down once more, before a smile tugging at my lips when I find the photo from the day at the cliffs. Knox wears a full toothy grin behind me, while I sit there smiling with a strand of hair floating across my upper lip.

My stomach flutters around all the alcohol at the memory of that day with him.

“So, you and my brother, huh?”

I drop my phone in my lap and my head to the seat behind me. “Is that weird?”

“I don’t think so.” She shrugs. “Especially if that means you’ll be staying a little while longer.”

It’s the thought that I haven’t yet let form completely. Thoughts and ideas bounce around my head with no rhyme or reason and the idea of extending my trip has been on a post-it note somewhere behind all the other thoughts on metaphorical paper.

I don’t have the answers, so I offer her a smile and give her hand a reassuring squeeze before sending the photos to her.