Page 11 of Wish We Were There

Parker blinked owlishly at him in surprise from across the table, making him look away self-consciously, as the waitress cheerfully complimented his choice and hurried away. After a beat, Parker asked in a careful tone,

“Are, uh, are you drinking now?”

Taylor bit back a laugh. “Well, not really, but... I mean, I really only stopped drinking to help Zach when he got sober. Now... So it’s fine now.”

Parker was obviously trying to hide his concerned expression, but wasn’t doing a very good job. This time, Taylor really did laugh.

“This is actually the first time I’ve had a drink since we quit, I swear,” he added, grinning over at Parker. “You don’t have to worry about me, really. I’m not secretly drinking at home or anything. Promise.”

Parker managed a slight smile. “Alright. Just don’t overdo it, okay?”

“I won’t,” Taylor agreed.

They sat in silence for a little while as they looked over the menu. It was getting late for breakfast food, but the restaurant was still serving pancakes and waffles, which was sorely tempting. What would go well with a strawberry margarita? He hadn’t had any alcohol since Zach had given it up years ago, so even though he’d made the decision in the spur of the moment, it suddenly felt like a big deal.

He could feel Parker’s gaze on him; but when he glanced up, the other man’s eyes darted away quickly, looking back down at his menu.

There was so much he wanted to say, but it was all competing to be the first to come out of his mouth, leaving him mute with indecision. Parker’s endearingly flustered expression—obviously trying to look like he hadn’t been watching Taylor and failing—made warmth rise from his chest up to his face.

When Parker eventually looked up at him again, Taylor blurted out the first thing he could think of:

“So I have to tell Dean and Angie that I’m not doing music anymore.”

Parker gave a slight start, obviously not expecting the confession—Taylor winced internally, not entirely having expected it either. It was one of the things that he’d wanted to talk about, sure, but adding another thing to the pile of worries that Parker was helping him through seemed like a mistake. It was what had come out, though, so he waited nervously as Parker seemed to process the words.

“I’m, uh, I’m surprised you haven’t told them yet,” Parker finally answered. “It seemed like you already decided.”

“I just... didn’t know how to bring it up,” Taylor replied. “But I know I have to. I’m having the band over tomorrow for dinner to... talk.”

“That’s good,” Parker said encouragingly.

“And I’ve thought about what you said about the charity show, too,” Taylor continued. “I’ll tell them that, too, and see what they think. Will you... Will you be there? I’m really nervous about it.”

Parker’s eyes widened—in the early afternoon sun, they were a warm honeyed brown that made Taylor’s pulse quicken. His mouth worked silently for a brief instant, then he stammered out,

“Yeah, of course. You said it’s tomorrow night?”

Taylor nodded. “Yeah, at my place. Can you come?”

“Yeah, I don’t have plans. I’ll be there.”

For what felt like the first time in days, maybe weeks—maybe months—Taylor smiled. Not one of the small, forced smiles that were all he could manage most days. It was a real, wide, genuine smile that made his eyes crinkle and his cheeks hurt. Knowing Parker would be there made him feel so relieved and happy and... and something else he couldn’t describe, but it made the looming conversation feel far less daunting.

Parker blinked hard, color rising rapidly in his face, then after a beat he smiled back, still meeting Taylor’s gaze.

His sweet smile made Taylor feel like he might burst, so he looked away, still grinning stupidly. Luckily, the waitress came by with their drinks at that moment, placing the light beer in front of Parker and the wide cup full of pink slush in front of Taylor.

“Ready to order?” she chirped as Taylor busied himself with flipping through the menu again.

“You go first,” he said to Parker, who nodded, still smiling.

“I’ll just do the breakfast burrito,” he said, and the waitress nodded sagely.

“Good choice,” she said, then looked at Taylor.

“The cinnamon roll pancakes,” he said decisively, and she grinned.

“Those are my favorite,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper, making him chuckle. As she stepped away, Parker shot him an amused look over the glass of his beer.

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