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“We need to talk,” Derrick said, sliding crackers onto the counter as Taylor stuffed her face with all the grapes she could get her hands on.
Taylor kept chewing and ignored Derrick, instead looking over her options on the fruit tray. She reached out for some cantaloupe, and Derrick slid the tray away.
She threw him the meanest look she could manage and took her time chewing and swallowing the food she managed to grab.
“What would you like to say?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted. Can we move on?”
Derrick huffed in frustration. “No,” he said shortly. “Goddamn it, Taylor, I’m sorry. I’m sorry about bringing you back. I’m sorry about your phone. I’m sorry for not calling—”
“Okay, okay,” she said, holding up her hands in surrender. She didn’t want to gothere, all the way back there. She didn’t want to think about anything back there. “I get it. No problem. Now give me the food,” she said, reaching out.
“No,” Derrick said, annoyed. He was gripping the tray so hard his knuckles were white. “See, it would be fine if that was the truth and it was okay, but it’s not.”
“What do you want from me, Derrick?” Taylor questioned in frustration. “Want me to buy a billboard and say it’s okay? Fine, write a check to my company and we will get it done because you would have to pay for it anyway!”
“What I want is to explain! What I want is to apologize!”
“You did apologize!” For the love of Pete, this was becoming annoying.
“And now I want to explain.”
Taylor leaned forward, grabbed the edge of the tray, and pulled it out of his grip and toward her so she could grab an apple. “No,” she said simply.
“No?”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Taylor said. “Let’s move on.”
Derrick moved quickly. One second he was across the island from her, and the next he was spinning her stool around and caging her in with his arms.
“I am done asking for permission,” he said tersely. “I found you because I needed to know you were okay.”
“I don’t want to talk about this, Derrick,” she emphasized. If he uttered one more syllable, she was ready to cover her ears, however childish that might be.
“Too bad, Taylor!” Derrick yelled. “You know what? I want to move on from it too, but we need to talk about this first.”
Taylor sat as far back in the stool as she could, folded her arms over her chest, and looked off to the side. He could talk, but she wasn’t going to listen, or at least she was going to pretend not to listen.
“That night after my mom died—”
The mere mention of the memory had Taylor pushing Derrick with all her might. She caught him off guard, and he went flying, hitting the opposite counter. Taylor got up and put herself on the other side of the island.
“Taylor!” Derrick called after regaining his balance. He moved to come after her.
“No! You don’t get to just bring up shit that I want to forget!”
“We need—”
Taylor stamped her feet, very maturely of course, and lost it. “I am so, so sick of everyone telling me what I need! I have been in a bubble my entire life! And even when I tried to escape and leave it behind, I just put myself into another damn bubble, hiding from it all! And now all anyone can do is tell me what Ineedto do for Preston Corp! Fuck off!”
She wasn’t going to cry. In fact, she chantedDon’t cryover and over in her head. But the tears came anyway.
“Taylor,” Derrick said and stepped toward her. Taylor stepped back, still trying to hold her ground. She didn’t want Derrick anywhere near her at that moment. But when Derrick reached her and pulled her into his arms, she realized she might not want him close but she needed the comfort he offered. She couldn’t help it; she melted.
All the tension and stress she was holding in her body came out in the tears. And it wasn’t just the current situation, but the years of drama and trauma and death had taken their toll too. Soon she was shaking as she fisted her hands into Derrick’s shirt and drenched it with her tears.