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Chapter Six

TAYLOR

Me: Hey, it’s Taylor.

Me: I got your number from Jacqueline. I hope that’s okay.

Nicole: Hi! That’s okay (:

I drummed my hands on the legs of my jeans, wondering how best to respond.

I never continued the conversation last night. Nerves coated my veins, and part of me was still struggling to figure out what exactly I wanted from this exchange.

“Hi T,” Violet Thompson’s voice echoed through my office, so I was already smiling by the time I turned around in my chair to greet her and little Gracie.

“Hi!” I jumped up from my chair, collecting Gracie’s favorite items from the cabinet while she and her mom settled around the little table in the center of the room. “Are you all packed and ready to go?”

“Almost,” Violet sighed as she watched her daughter dig her hands into her favorite sensory bin.

Beans and rice, with little marbles for her to collect if she so desired.

Gracie’s eyes lit up as soon as her little hands disappeared into the bin, so I took my time thinking about what I wanted to work on with her today.

“What else do you have to pack?” I asked.

“Just Gracie’s room. And the bathroom,” Violet sighed as she pulled her electric blue hair out of her ponytail and started to braid it, her green eyes on her daughter to ensure the little stinker didn’t shove any dried beans into her mouth, “The kitchen—oh, and my bedroom, I guess—”

“Don’t you live in a two-bedroom apartment?” I chuckled as I set my items on the table in front of Gracie and her mom before I took my own seat next to them, “Isn’t that just your whole apartment, then?”

“I guess one could argue that I haven’t started packing yet,” Violet gave me a sly smile as she slowly trailed her fingers in the sensory bin with her daughter, “But my dad has.”

“Good on Frank,” I smiled. I had only met her dad a couple of times over the years, but the man was a silver fox.

“He’s very excited,” Violet nodded. “Anyway, what do you have planned for us today?”

“I was thinking—” my phone buzzed on the tabletop. I became distracted as soon as I saw Nicole’s contact show up on it. I snatched the device in my hands, swiping the notification without thought.

Nicole: I just wanted to thank you for helping me deal with my ex the other day. You didn’t have to do that, but I appreciate it.

I stared at her message, wondering how to use this to keep the conversation going.

“Who’s that?” Violet asked over her daughter’s blonde head. I jerked my gaze up from my phone to see her not-so-subtly peering to look at my phone screen.

“It’s Nic—” I cut myself off. Nicole was Violet’s superior. She worked at the same company as Leo and Jacqueline. Was this what it was like dating in your late thirties? Everyone knowing everyone?

“Nick?” Violet asked.

I stared at her for another moment.

To tell her, or not to tell her?

I shook my head; I was a grown adult.

“It’s Nicole,” I cleared my throat as heat stained my cheeks from the admission. Fuck . I never blushed like this.

“Oh,” Violet nodded, “…Wait, like my Nicole?”

I caught myself before I frowned.

I didn’t like the sound of that.

I knew what Violet meant, I knew that Violet was, as far as I could tell, mostly straight. That she and Nicole weren’t like that. But that didn’t mean I liked hearing her say those words. My Nicole .

Nicole didn’t belong to anyone.

Not her ex.

Not Violet.

Frankly, not even me.

Which, weirdly, didn’t make me feel better.

“Yeah,” I shrugged as I watched Violet and Gracie play in the sensory bin together.

“You two text each other?”

“Now we do,” I plucked a marble out of the sensory bin and gently set it on the table, watching as Gracie frowned and snatched the marble with her little fingers, before placing it back in the bin with the rest of them. I smiled at the little girl, loving how her brain worked.

Violet opened her mouth to respond, but I was saved from having to explain why I was texting another coworker of hers by one of mine gently knocking on the door and entering my office.

Beck’s hazel eyes and dark brown hair greeted us as she said, “Hi, sorry to interrupt.”

“You’re fine,” I smiled at my long-time friend, “What’s up?”

“I’m just delivering this,” Beck quietly stepped into the room to set a hot coffee on my desk, careful not to startle Gracie or throw off her routine. “Also, we’re going to visit Gram later if you want to join us.”

I gave her a thumbs up, “I’ll be there.”

“Sounds good,” Beck turned to Violet, “You’re getting ready to move soon, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Violet sighed, “I have lots of feelings about it.” She gently tucked a blonde curl out of her daughter’s face, who hummed as she focused on her sensory bin.

“Post lots of pictures,” Beck replied with a grin, “It’s so beautiful up there. I love how green northern California is.”

“You’re so right,” Violet grinned back, but she looked nervous. “I will. Say bye, Gracie.” Violet prompted her daughter by tapping her on the shoulder. Gracie glanced up at Beck, her former speech therapist, and stared for a solid three seconds before focusing back on her bin.

“Take care, Gracie!” Beck signed her goodbye as well, before ducking out of the room.

“Who is Gram?” Violet immediately asked.

I smiled, a familiar but faded ache burning in my chest at the question.

“Beck’s grandmother,” I replied, “She passed away a few years ago. We visit her grave every now and then.”

Susan Scott was an icon. Both sets of my grandparents had passed away when I was too young to build any memories with them.

My older brother had memories and told me stories about my grandparents, but I always felt left out.

When I became friends with Beck after starting work here at the clinic, she was living with her grandmother at the time.

After many movie and game nights at the townhouse that Courtney and Josh now resided in, Susan Scott became an honorary grandparent of mine.

She considered all of us her honorary grandchildren.

For the longest time, she and I were the only openly queer people in our little trusted circle of friendship—until Courtney reconnected with Josh at one of his concerts.

Because of this, I felt like she and I had a special understanding of each other.

How many people my age could say that they had a queer grandparent they could look up to?

Susan Scott wasn’t my grandmother by blood, but she was my Gram in all the ways that truly mattered.

“That’s sweet,” Violet replied, seconds before Gracie grabbed a handful of beans and tossed them across the room. “Girl, why?”

I smirked. Violet was a hilarious mom. Not only was she shamelessly alt with her tattoos and bright blue hair, but she also spoke to her daughter as an equal.

Gracie ignored her mom and dug her fist in the beans again, grabbing a large handful, before Violet grasped her daughter’s wrist to keep her from chucking the contents of the sensory bin again.

“No, thank you,” Violet signed the word no for Gracie with her free hand, just like Beck taught her to. “We’re going to be all done with the bin if you toss it again.”

With that, we settled into the routine of the session.

Reeling little Gracie in and working on fun activities to help strengthen her fine motor skills.

We weren’t entirely sure what her care would look like up in northern California since it was significantly less populated and therefore had fewer resources to offer neurodivergent children, but I assured Violet at the end of our session that I’m no more than a call or text away if she needed help.

After Violet pulled me in for a hug, she thanked me one last time.

“Of course, I’m going to miss you all,” I crouched down to Gracie’s level, holding my palm up, “Have so much fun on your new adventure, little Gracie.” Gracie smiled at me and gave me a high-five before holding her mom’s hand and being led out of the office.

I had a few hours before my next client, due to last-minute cancelations, so I decided to make the most of my free time by catching up on some paperwork.

Then I decided not to do that at all and found myself staring at Nicole’s message with my hands running through my hair.

This was exactly how Courtney and Beck found me later when it was time to eat lunch in the break room.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you hunched over your desk like that, ever,” Courtney’s words startled me out of my spiral because I hadn’t realized that they entered my office until she spoke, “What’s up, T?”

I spun in my chair, inhaling through my nose when the aroma of pasta filled the space.

“Did he make enough for me?” I asked, crossing both of my fingers at her.

Courtney smiled, “Of course, and probably enough for leftovers, too.” She and Beck both lifted large bags.

Courtney and Josh had a professional chef at home that kept their refrigerator stocked with prepared meals at all times.

They started using him after Susie was born, to help them through Courtney’s postpartum.

But Josh was loaded, as world-famous rock stars usually were, so they kept him on.

Once you hire a private chef who handles all meal planning for you, it’s difficult to go back.

Courtney didn’t work at the clinic anymore, choosing to become a full-time mommy to little Susie and Cooper, instead. However, she still brought lunches for Beck, Beck’s boyfriend, and me.

“Hell yeah, brother,” I stood from my chair and took a step toward them, before remembering my phone and snatching it off the desk to shove into my pocket.

“What are you stressed about?” Beck asked as the three of us made it over to the break room of the clinic.

“Who says I’m stressed?” I replied.

“The hunch in your shoulders,” Courtney replied, resting her hand on the said shoulder and gently pushing down so it wasn’t hunched near my head. Frick.

I sighed, before pulling my phone out of my pocket.

These were the women I wanted to talk to about this.