It’s closing the stable door after the horse has bolted, but I understand her sisters’ view. I don’t want to let Taylor out of my sight either.
“Beckenham, what can I do for you,” I answer the phone, and take a reluctant step backwards, releasing Taylor.
“Payton says Taylor should be back by now,” he barks. “She’s worried. Where’s Taylor?”
“You’re not her dad, and she’s an adult,” I say mildly.
“She’s a vulnerable young woman, and my sister-in-law, and my wife is concerned.”
My soul cracks. Right, yes. This is why it’s impossible between Taylor and me.
She’s half my age. She rightly hates Volk, and that mafia is tattooed onto my skin. She’s good and sweet and not for me.
“Now where is she? They said she went with you,” Beckenham says with an accusing tone that suggests I’ve kidnapped her.
Taylor has walked away and pulled out her phone, and is speaking into it.
“Payton, I’m okay,” I hear her insist. “I’m sorry I worried you. Yes, I’m with Kon.”
A pause.
“He’s giving me an apartment!”
Another pause.
“I know that, but he did it for all the ballerinas, and it’s so cute. Wait until you see it!” The excitement is back in her voice, and I smile.
“Find your wife,” I tell Beckenham. “I think you’re about to be invited over for a housewarming party.” I hang up on him, and make for the door. I vow I’ll stick to stalking her and watching from a distance.
But before I’ve taken more than two steps, Taylor has run up to me, and put her hand on my arm.
Despite the layers of fabric of my shirt and suit jacket, it’s a burn. Our eyes meet, her peeking up at me from under her lashes.
“Stay,” she mouths.
And I nod instinctively. Anything she wants.
I busy myself in the kitchen and in ten minutes, Taylor emerges from the slide-library room, a cautious smile on her face.
“Is it alright if Payton and Hayley come over and have a look?” she asks.
“It’s your apartment, or it will be,” I point out. “There’s some paperwork to sign.” I take from my pocket the front door key and elevator card and hold them out.
Her cheeks are rounded with her joy as she comes and picks them from my hand, her little fingers brushing my big, scarred palm and making my poor heart clench.
“Your keycard will access my floor as well as yours, because of the multiple levels in your apartment,” I explain. Total lie. Plausible, but the reason is that if she ever wants to visit me, I want nothing in the way. “We’re neighbours now.”
“If I need a jug of milk or a cup of sugar?” she says lightly.
“Or anything else.” I can’t help the slight emphasis I put onanything.
If you want to be mine. If you want to have a family, and be loved and adored, if you think you could put up with me holding you and telling you you’re my world, my life, my soul, every day. I’ll be just upstairs. Come over, anytime. I’ll be waiting.
However long it takes. Probably never.
“Hope it goes well with your sisters, zhizn moya.” And I leave before I bare my heart anymore. Before I break and claim the girl who I will never stop loving, and who can never be mine.
Besides, now I can watch her properly.
