Page 21 of Takeover

Instead of getting out like I should, I roll down my window just a bit, my interest piqued.

“Can’t we take some more time, Tara?” Michael says. His arms are slack, like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“More time? It’s been almost two years. If you don’t know now if we have a future together, that’s all the answer I need.”

He takes a step closer to her, but she takes a step back.

“I’m not ready for that level of commitment,” he says. “But I care about you. We can try the long-distance thing.”

“You’re not ready to commit, but you want to have a long-distance relationship? Denver is not exactly Providence or Boston, Michael. It’s a four and a half hour flight. That’s not realistic long term.”

“That’s all I can offer right now.”

I shake my head at his stupidity, but then something happens. The Tara I met that day at the Taylor Toys office appears. She squares her shoulders, holds her head up high, and takes a step towards Michael. This time, it’s him who takes a step back.

“I thought this was a relationship, not some sort of business deal. You know what? You can take your offer and shove it, Michael. If you can’t give me anything more than some long-distance relationship where we only see each other once every few months, we are done. I’m not going to waste any more time on something that’s obviously going nowhere.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but she talks over him. “Why did you even come here tonight?”

“To see you. To celebrate your birthday.”

“Bullshit. You didn’t even remember.”

I guess she did notice.

“You’re a twenty-eight-year-old woman, Tara, not eight. We don’t need to make a big deal about your birthday. Grow up.”

As dark as it is, I know I don’t imagine the fire in her eyes.

“Thanks for that, Michael. You just proved that I’m making the right decision. Good luck in Denver.” Without another look, she walks past him and runs up the stairs to the safety of the house.

He stares at the house for a few minutes, starts to walk towards the front steps, but shakes his head and turns around. He walks past my car and looks into my window, but they are tinted, and I know he can’t see me.

After he walks away, I grab Vincent from the back seat, and say, “We’re back at Tara’s, buddy. We’re just going to run inside and grab Mr. Turtle.”

He nods sleepily, and I walk back to the brownstone. Cheryl opens the door for us a few seconds later and ushers us inside.

I spot Tara in the dining room holding a glass of wine filled to the brim. She drinks the entire thing as if it’s a glass of apple juice, not white wine. Then she walks around the table until she gets to a platter of dumplings. She grabs one, wraps it with a piece of spiral ham, and shoves it in her mouth. Before she even swallows, she does it again with another dumpling.

“Tara!” Vincent calls when he finally sees her. He wiggles out of my arms and runs to her.

“Buddy! What are you doing back here?” she asks, her mouth still full as she picks him up and hugs him to her before kissing the top of his head.

“I forgot Mr. Turtle.”

“I think he might be downstairs, Vincent. Come with me and let’s go find him.” Vincent slides out of Tara’s arms and takes Cheryl’s hand.

I’m left alone with Tara, who turns her back to me and stuffs more dumplings in her mouth before pouring more wine.

After taking a huge gulp, she finds a bottle of whipped cream and sprays it directly into her mouth. Someone is an emotional eater, I think to myself. I walk over to the table, grab a napkin and wipe excess whipped cream from her mouth.

“The best thing about today,” she says, “is that it’s my birthday and Taylor tradition dictates I don’t have to help clean up.” She lays a hand to her forehead and finishes the wine. I take the empty glass from her and put it away.

“Unless you’re going to refill that, don’t touch my wine glass.”

“I find it hard to believe that not having to clean up is the best part of today,” I tell her.

“You’re right. I take that back. Vincent. Having him here today was definitely the best part.”

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