Page 78 of In It to Win It

I’m so fucking proud of myself. Ha.

I have a good excuse for leaving early—I need to get back to Byron. I’m so damn grateful for that dog right now.

I turn the music up loud as I drive home, tapping my hand on the steering wheel. I’m wired and tense, and I’m doing my best not to stress over the traffic. Next year I’ll host Thanksgiving dinner at my place and everyone can come to me. Okay, that’s crazy thinking; as if I could cook a turkey. I remind myself I’m not really in a hurry to get home. Byron will be fine.

That makes me think of Taylor, of course, and how her family dinner is going, such as it is, after our texts this morning.

I know I shouldn’t think about her, but I almost enjoy torturing myself with it. Seeing her in my home, knowing she’s been there and done little things for me, is both sweet and painful. I can pat myself on the back for how I’ve behaved, keeping my hands off and my mouth shut, but the virtuous feeling doesn’t quite make up for the fact that I’m fucking frustrated and miserable.

I want her.

I wanted her the first time I saw her, but that was all physical. Okay, maybe notallphysical. There was something about her smile that told me she was more than just a hot lay. And now that I’ve gotten to know her better . . . I absolutely know that. She’ssomuch more than that. She’s sweet and kind and fun.

I let out a billowing sigh as I park underground, then stride through the concrete structure toward the elevator. Maybe I should just bring some other chick home so we can bang our brains out and that’ll make me feel better.

I let myself into my apartment. I left the foyer light on so Byron wouldn’t be in the dark. As I lock the door behind me, I expect him to come clicking over the hardwood floor to greet me, but there’s silence. Frowning, I stride through the condo to look for him. I stop dead in my tracks in the living room at seeing Taylor on my couch, in the dark, Byron sitting next to her, her arms wrapped around him.

His eyes focus on me. He sees me. His tail wags. But he doesn’t move.

One corner of my mouth lifts. He’s where he wants to be . . . with the woman he loves. I can relate. Well, you know what I mean.

Taylor lifts her head. “Oh . . . you’re home. What time is it?”

“I don’t know. Eight?”

“You’re back earlier than I thought.”

“I had to get out of there before I said something that would get me ejected from the game.”

“That good, huh?” Her smile is crooked.

I advance into the room, playing with my keys. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at your mom’s.”

She bends her head, but now that I’m closer I see her face is flushed, her eyes swollen and glassy.

“What’s wrong?” I lower my ass to the couch next to her, my gut twisting.

“Oh my God.” She shakes her head, hair falling down over her face, still not looking at me. “I can’t even talk about it. Sorry. I’ll go. I needed to see Byron . . .” Her voice catches and my chest spasms. “And . . . I didn’t think you’d be home for a while.”

“You don’t have to go.” I lay my hand on her knee. She’s wearing black leggings and I feel her warmth through the thin fabric. “Now, what’s happened?”

She presses her head against Byron’s and doesn’t answer. But she doesn’t leave. My chest tightens and worry congeals in my stomach. I wait, even though I’m practically vibrating with the need to know who hurt her so I can go punch him. If it’s Anthony, I’m going to fuck that motherfucker’s face up.

“My mom,” she finally says in a thin voice.

“Is she okay?” My mind races.

She nods. “Yeah. She’s . . . she’s gay.”

I go still. I tip my head back and squint at the ceiling. What did she just say?

“Well, bi,” she adds.

I swallow. “Uh . . . bisexual?”

“Yeah.” She draws in a quaking breath. “I found out tonight. She and Shirley aren’t ‘just friends.’”

“Oh.” I blink. “Um, wow.”

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