Page 45 of Someone to Have (Skylark #3)

TAYLOR

Two hours later, my friends rush to greet me in the theater’s lobby. “You did it!” Molly shouts, sounding almost as thrilled as I feel.

The show went off without a hitch. Sure, there were a few issues, but they were small enough that only the cast and crew noticed.

I held it together and even got a smattering of laughter on the line meant to elicit just that. Maybe it was just from my family and friends, but I’m counting it as a win.

My book club friends surround me. “You were so good,” Sloane says as they each hug me.

“Thank you for coming.” I blink away tears. “It means the world to me that you’re here.”

“A cesspool of community theater germs,” a deep voice grumbles from a few steps away, where a tall dark and brooding man, arms crossed over his chest, is glaring at us.

“Ignore Jeremy,” Sloane says loudly. “He’s overreacting.”

“Three more minutes, Sloane,” he calls.

She grimaces. “He’s probably right. There are a lot of people here, and my immunity is shot. ”

Alarm spikes through me. “You should have?—”

“I wanted to be here, Taylor. You made me so proud.” She hugs me again.

“Thank you for guilting me into accepting the bucket list challenge.”

She grins unapologetically. “I like getting my way. Doesn’t happen nearly enough these days.”

The hugging continues until Sloane says her goodbyes and walks toward her brother. As much as Jeremy Winslow comes across like a total ass, the arm he places around his sister’s shoulders as they leave is remarkably gentle.

“I think there’s a rule that billionaires have to be socially awkward and eccentric,” Avah says as we watch them leave. “He’s just doing what tech geniuses do.”

“She’s going to be okay, right?” I ask no one in particular.

Iris takes my hand. “You bet your ass she is. We’ve got her home, and this time she’s staying. But tonight is about you, Tay. You’re an inspiration.”

“We reserved a table at The Lark,” Sadie says.

“That’s too fancy,” I protest. “We can just get margaritas and?—”

“We’re five-star celebrating,” Avah says.

“Because you’re a star,” Molly finishes.

My heart warms, even as part of me—the part used to playing small—wants to deny it. But I did the thing. “I did the thing!” I shout, excitement making me feel as light as champagne bubbles.

“And what are you going to do about the other thing?” Avah asks with a knowing wink, peering over my shoulder.

I turn and see my family, Eric, and Rhett approaching. “Let’s discuss that at dinner,” I answer quietly.

“We’ll head over. Take your time,” Molly tells me with another hug. “I told my mother-in-law I was going to be out late, so I plan to do exactly that. ”

Avah leans in so only I can hear her. “For the record, I’d pick a Hemsworth brother over a Hugh Grant also-ran any day.”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing and whisper, “Me too.”

She pumps her fist triumphantly and then joins the other women heading for the exit.

“Tinky Wink, get in here!” Toby grabs me in a bear hug and twirls me around. “No puke or piss. Well done, sis.”

I roll my eyes but grin at him. “Nice rhyming.”

“Put her down before you break your back,” my dad snarls good-naturedly.

“Dad, come on.” Elise smacks him on the arm as she and my nieces surround me. “You were fantastic.”

There are hugs and congratulations, and I’m grinning ear to ear. So this is what it feels like to be the center of attention in my boisterous family. It’s a lot, but I’ll take it for the night.

“You did good, Tink,” my dad says in his gruff voice as he gives me an awkward squeeze.

“Thanks, Dad.” I blink away tears because I can’t remember the last time my father complimented me. Maybe that has more to do with me not sharing enough of my life for him to know when to offer one.

I feel heat rise to my cheeks and hope Toby and Elise will think it’s my reaction to Dad, not the intensity of Eric’s gaze on me.

“Hey,” I say, looking into his eyes for a moment, unable to interpret the emotions swirling in their dark depths, before switching my gaze to Rhett. “On a scale of one to fork-in-the-eye, how boring was it?”

“Straw shoved up my nose,” he answers without missing a beat.

I laugh and hug him. “Thank you for the pixie dust. And thank you guys for the flowers,” I add, turning to my family. Elise’s girls have wandered off to greet some friends nearby.

My big sister takes my hand. “Mom would have loved this.”

“Pixie dust?” Toby frowns, looking between Eric and me. “Is that some secret theater rite of passage I don’t know about?” He swats Eric on the arm. “How do you know it?”

“Inside joke,” Eric answers smoothly.

“The flowers are really beautiful,” I tell Elise, suddenly desperate to change the subject.

“It’s because Uncle Eric calls her Tinkerbell instead of Tink,” Rhett offers. Why is this the moment the kid decides to get chatty?

“Tinkerbell?” My brother snickers while Elise’s mouth opens and shuts several times.

“I should head backstage.” I need to escape before anyone else digs too deep into a part of me I wanted to keep just for Eric. “It was really?—”

“Tink isn’t short for Tinkerbell,” Dad interrupts. “Son, you’ve got it backward. Tinky, didn’t you explain it?”

I want the ground to swallow me whole. Suck me down to a place far away from this circle of people I love and want to run from all at once. “No, Dad. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just…”

Hurt flashes in Eric’s eyes before he can hide it. I immediately regret the words because his nickname does mean something to me. It makes me feel special. The way he says it when?—

“Tink is how she pronounced Tank, which is what we called her as a toddler,” Dad explains.

I shoot a pleading glance at my sister, who’s staring at Eric like she’s never seen him before. When her gaze flicks to me, I’m not sure what she reads in my eyes, but she puts a hand on Dad’s arm.

“It was a silly nickname that stuck,” Elise says. “Dad, we should?—”

“She was a solid piece of work,” Dad continues, shaking her off. “And ran into everything.”

“Led with her head like a damn bull,” Toby adds with a chuckle.

“Like a tank.” Dad wipes at the corner of one eye, and I clench my jaw against the wave of mortification rising in my throat. I’m not a little girl crashing into furniture anymore—but it sure feels like I’m falling.

“Cutest thing you ever saw.”

I can’t look at Eric. He thought I was some magical creature, but now he knows the truth. I’m a bulldozer in braids.

“Looked like she had a unicorn horn growing out of her forehead from all the faceplants. Most uncoordinated kid you ever saw. If she didn’t look just like her mother, I would’ve thought?—”

“Dad!” Elise yanks at his arm.

Toby makes a wheezing sound, and I glance over to see him laughing so hard he’s barely breathing.

“She was our little Tank. Still is. I saw you almost fall off the stage tonight,” Dad adds.

“It was a tiny trip,” I mutter, my humiliation growing at an exponential rate.

“Are you coming to my game tomorrow?” Rhett asks, blissfully oblivious to my embarrassment.

I refuse to meet Eric’s gaze. I’m sure he’s chuckling right along with Toby. I tell myself it doesn’t matter. I’m used to the joke being on me, but tonight felt different.

This silly, ridiculous revelation about the origin of the nickname I’ve hated up until Eric made it his own reminds me why a guy like Bryan Connor is my type. What would a hockey god manwhore-with-a-heart want with me other than convenient, no-strings-attached sex?

“I’ll be there,” I tell Rhett. “But I’ve got to go now.” My voice trembles. “Thank you all for coming. It means a lot.”

I hurry backstage, but I duck into the prop closet instead of heading to the dressing room where I know the rest of the cast is gathered.

My safe space.

The door opens almost immediately after I shut it. I turn, half expecting to see Eric—wishing and hoping to see Eric .

Bryan enters the room, stepping toward me with a jubilant smile.

“We did it!” he exclaims, taking my hands. “I did it, Taylor. The audience loved the production.”

“It was a great opening night,” I agree while simultaneously wishing he would go away. “Congratulations.”

“I fucking did it!” he shouts, releasing one of my hands to fist-pump the air. “Excuse my colorful language. I’m guessing a meek and mild librarian doesn’t?—”

I pull my other hand from his grasp. Meek and mild? Seriously? “Bryan, I grew up around hockey players. I’m well-versed in swearing.”

He chuckles, then moves closer, crowding me a little. I take an automatic step away.

He makes a show of looking around the cramped prop room. “You’re alone.”

No shit, Sherlock. “I wanted a minute to savor the moment, but we should go be with the rest of the cast. I’m sure other people want to congratulate you.”

“You don’t need to play coy.” He gives me a slow once over. “I know why you’re in here.”

My spine stiffens. Did he overhear that humiliating conversation with my family?

“Normally, I make it a priority not to get involved with my underlings.”

“Wow. Interesting word choice.”

“You know what I mean,” he adds.

I nod. “I think it’s a smart policy.”

“Taylor.”

“Bryan.”

He offers a sheepish grin. “Right now, I’m just a boy, standing in front of a girl, asking her to?—”

“Did you just use a Notting Hill line on me?”

“I came up with that. ”

“Are you sure?”

“The important part is I see you now, Taylor. I see you with me.”

His words fall flat, but how he says them gives me pause. I might have had a giant crush on him, but in all that time pining, the truth is I never really saw us together.

Or if I did, like imagining us reading on the couch, it was the two of us near each other, but not together. I could picture him next to me, but not in my heart. Not the way Eric is, despite my best efforts to keep him out.

“About that, Bryan?—”

“I know,” he says, and suddenly he’s kissing me.

Not a soft, slow, waiting-for-me-to-invite-him-in-deeper kiss, but a full Mac Daddy, tongue-sweeping-into-my-mouth, camera-pans-around-us kind of kiss.

I’m not into it. At all.

I twist away, but before I can tell Bryan this is a mistake and I don’t want it anymore, I see Eric looming in the doorway. His dark eyes hold a mix of confusion, disbelief, and anger.

Bryan reaches for me again, but Eric disappears.

Without a word. Like he was never there in the first place.

Without knowing this isn’t what I want.

“Bryan, this isn’t what I want.” I need both of us to get the message loud and clear.

He gives me that golden retriever head tilt again. “Of course it is. You think I didn’t see your infatuation with me? You’ve wanted this for months. Don’t play hard to get now.”

“I’m not playing anything,” I tell him and give his chest a little shove for good measure.

I push past him, suddenly desperate for fresh air. My pulse pounds in my ears as I step into the hallway, but all I hear is the fading footsteps of the man who saw me—before I let him think I didn’t see him in return.