Page 111 of That: Taylor & Brooks

He leaned down, brushing a kiss against her temple. “Always, baby. Ready to get outta here? Our plane leaves in an hour.”

Taylor blinked in surprise. “Plane?”

“Yes, plane. Ready or not?”

She tugged at his hand, pulling him to a halt. “Where exactly are we going?”

Brooks shook his head with playful impatience. “Bae, don’t start asking me questions now. Let's go. I’m tryna get nasty tonight.”

Realization softened her expression, eyes filling with sudden tears. This pregnancy had truly unlocked her tear ducts—everything felt so intensely emotional now. “You’re taking me back to Denver?”

He smiled warmly, confirming her suspicion with a gentle nod. “Yeah, baby. You coming, or what?”

Yesterday’s doctor's appointment had revealed the truth—she was nearly twelve weeks along, confirming what Brooks had instinctively known: they’d created baby Bishop in Denver. Nearly three months had passed, subtle signs she'd missed entirely, distracted by life, love, and work. But now she knew, and it made this return even sweeter.

Taylor squeezed his hand tighter, now taking the lead herself. Denver was waiting—their special place. Brooks might not be able to give her the entire world, but he would always ensure she had the piece of it that mattered most. She deserved nothing less, especially now, carrying his child.

As their car smoothly navigated Coupeville’s quiet streets toward the private airfield, Brooks watched Taylor’s peaceful expression illuminated by passing streetlights. From that stormy night at the hospitalto this moment, they'd crafted something remarkable, something unexpected and unbreakable. A simple phone call had turned into a love strong enough to build a life around. She’d called when she needed strength, and he’d answered. He’d sought purpose beyond material success, and she'd provided it.

His father had always told him that a man's legacy wasn’t measured in dollars or business deals, but in the lives he touched, in the love he nurtured. Tonight, beside Taylor, with their child quietly growing beneath her heart, Brooks finally understood. This wasn’t just about making her smile tonight. It was about fulfilling every promise he’d ever made—spoken and silent, now and forever.

Because when a man like Brooks Bishop finally found his home, he didn’t just cherish it. He guarded it, he treasured it, and he built it higher and stronger than anyone thought possible. And his home wasn’t a place.

It was her.

Chapter 29

July 18th

It had been months since that night at the diner, and they’d weathered a lot since then. Peace was there to stay for a while. Taylor stood barefoot in the foyer, one hand on her back, the other resting protectively on her belly. Eight months pregnant, and she still hadn’t fully wrapped her mind around the fact that this house, the one with her name on the mailbox and their dreams in every corner, was theirs.

A cardboard box slipped from Taylor’s grip, landing softly on the hardwood floor of their new home.

“Baby clothes,” she said with a little laugh. “My mom’s been wild since we told her about the baby.”

Brooks shook his head as he stepped through the door from the garage, arms full with another box labeled 'Kitchen' his white tee stretched across broad shoulders, sweat beading at his temple. “Already spoiling my kid and they ain’t even here,” he muttered with a grin.

Taylor raised a brow and turned slightly toward him.

“Your kid?” She asked, lips twitching. “Pretty sure I’m the one doing the growing.”

“Yeah, well, I planted the seed, so I get a say so,” he said, setting the box down with a grunt. “And I say that’sthe last box you’re touching today.”

“I’m pregnant, not helpless.”

“Same thing right now,” he muttered, already walking over, hands sliding gently to her waist. He brushed a curl away from her forehead and kissed the spot tenderly. “Doctor Chen said rest. And you? You’ve been being hard-headed since day one.”

She didn’t argue. Not when he was looking at her like that. Not when he’d built this home, every inch of it, with her in mind.

He guided her to the plush window seat overlooking the backyard. The yard was freshly landscaped: soft green sod, neatly trimmed hedges, and a wooden swing hung from the old oak tree. She hadn’t even asked for the swing. But it was already in her head, the backdrop for birthdays, chalk art on the patio, laughter echoing off the back deck.

She huffed but let him help her sit, shifting her belly and settling in. The view from there was perfect. Oversized, black-framed windows stretched floor to ceiling, spilling natural light across the polished floors.

The house was everything, sharp modern lines, deep charcoal trim, cream brick and wood accents, double-height ceilings, spiral staircase, open layout, three car garage, and a sleek chef’s kitchen with a twelve-foot island that had already become the heart of the home.

Six bedrooms, three full bathrooms, the walk-in closet he built for her, held velvet drawers, soft lighting, space carved out for the woman she’d become and was still becoming. The nursery down the hall was already painted a soft gray. They’d decided not to find out the baby’s sex. That part didn’t matter. Not to them. All theywanted was a healthy and happy baby.

Taylor leaned back, hand resting on the curve of her belly. “This house feels like a fresh start,” she said, her voice low, reverent.

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