Page 94 of Sterling Stone

“I never had to ask Bailey what she’d do because her actions showed me who she was.”

She’d only wanted the future. A professional footballer’s wife.

“Cort married her instead. He played professional football.”

“Stone,” Taxi whispers again, sorrow in the single syllable of my name.

“They had a boy.” I scrub down my face again, the thickness in my throat gone. “His name is⁠—”

“Josh,” she completes for me. “I’m so fucking sorry that happened to you, Stone.”

She has heard my story.

“You deserve the world,” she says.

“I have it. In my siblings. In my nieces and nephews.”

Taxi watches me, her gaze intense. “But you deserve that one-on-one love, Stone. That red to your blue.” She slowly smiles.

“How about periwinkle? Does that complement beige?”

Her mouth curls higher on one side. “I’ve never really thought about it,” she admits.

“But you’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?” I just planted a seed. One I didn’t intend to plant.

Like when dandelion seeds drift through the wind and then root somewhere unexpected.

Like in the cracks in a sidewalk or on the edge of a garden.

Taxi is quiet. Her grin growing larger, until another thought occurs.

“And now Cort is dating your sister?”

“Engaged to my sister,” I correct, tipping back in my chair again, staring up at the ceiling despite holding the phone in a position Taxi can see my face.

“They’re in love.” I mimic her emphasis of the word earlier in this conversation.

“I don’t know how you carry all that weight, Stone.

Then I whip my head forward. “What about you? Ever been in love?”

Taxi exhales and sits back in the kitchen chair. She glances to her left and shakes her head.

“No,” she quietly admits, glancing back at me. Her sterling eyes focused. “And I’m sorry I suggested we put us on pause.”

“That’s not why I told you this story,” I lean forward again, placing my arms on my desk top.

“I know. I asked a question and you answered. You always answer honestly, Stone. You give and you give, and you give. You need to take.”

If I thought she meant I could take her, have her, I’d ask her right now to be mine. To give us a chance. Not just for the time she’s here, but for longer. That commitment excuse I’ve used in the past feels like it’s fluttering in the wind as well. Blowing out with the breeze.

We can work something out. Everything always works out.

Instead, I snort, dismissing the idea.

“Don’t you be snorting at me, Stone Sylver,” she teases again. “You take the next time you see me.”

Her gaze remains focused, her suggestion still a little foggy, but her smile grows. “You hear me?”