Page 74 of In It to Win It

“Of course it is, but still . . . it’s late.”

“I’ve walked myself to my car every other time I’ve been here.”

“Just let me do this.” I swallow a sigh.

Her lips tighten, then relax. “Fine.”

I ride down the elevator with her, trying not to limp, and accompany her across the lobby and out to the visitor parking area. It’s a cool November evening, the strong breezes whipping the fronds of the palm trees around.

“You’re limping,” she says in an accusatory tone.

“Yeah. A bit. It’s nothing, really.”

“Killer.” One corner of her mouth lifts and she climbs into her car.

Smiling, I lift my hand.

She waves too, and backs out of her spot.

I glumly return to my condo. But at least I’m not alone. Byron’s there waiting for me, his tongue hanging out of his mouth, looking for all the world like he’s grinning. He’s a great companion. I rub his head before trudging down the hall to the master suite, pulling my suit jacket off as I walk.

When I get backfrom Chicago, Byron’s super excited to see me, bouncing on his front paws and giving sharp little barks. I rub his head, grinning. “Hey, dude, I missed you too.” It’s two o’clock in the morning, but I grab his leash. We make a quick trip outside into the cool, quiet night. He waters a shrub and we return to the condo.

Taylor’s not here, but I can tell she has been. There’s a big plant on the floor in front of the window. I discover she did my laundry, finding folded T-shirts and boxers on my dresser. And my kitchen fridge has been cleaned out and organized.

I shake my head as I dump the contents of my duffel bag on the bed. She doesn’t have to do this shit for me. But I have to admit, I kind of like it.

I’m sore and tired, and I want to hit the sack right away. I can sleep as long as I want in the morning, since it’s a day off for us. Grandpa and Chelsea are hosting the family for Thanksgiving dinner later, which should be tons of fun. Not.

But before I go to sleep, I send Taylor a text.

Thanks for the stuff you did. Is the plant for Byron?

I don’t wait for her to reply since it’s the middle of the night. I’m out in seconds.

In the morning, I find her reply, with a smiling emoji.

Yes, for Byron. He likes some greenery in his space.

He better not pee on it.

Another smile emoji.

Pretty sure he won’t do that.

I should stop texting her, but I don’t want to. I sit on my bed.

Are you having Thanksgiving dinner with family today?

Or is she having Thanksgiving dinner with Anthony? And maybehisfamily? Ugh.

It’s a minute before her reply arrives:

Yes. With my mom and Shirley. :(

Clearly she’s not happy about this. I get it. This is the first Thanksgiving with her family split apart. I gnaw on my bottom lip, wishing I could do something to make it better for her. It’s a sucky feeling, being helpless to fix things.

That’ll be nice.

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