Page 31 of That: Taylor & Brooks

Brooks had been there.

Exhaling, she unlocked the door and carried everything inside, her heels clicked against the hardwood as she set the boxes and bags down.

She locked up, kicking off her shoes, and headed upstairs, fingers itching to rip the lids open even as her mind warned her not to read too much into this. But who was she kidding? She was already in too deep.

The first box held a metallic halter backless dress with a thigh split to die for. It was sexy, flirty. It stole her breath before she even lifted it. She held it up in the mirror, watching the material cling to her body like it was chosen with her in mind.

The second box had her sinking onto the edge of the bed, fingers brushing in awe over the soles of Gianvito Rossi heels. She slipped them on slowly, standing to admire how they hugged her feet like something out of a dream. She would never blow a bag on shoes, but she was grateful she knew someone who would.

And damn, she loved them.

The next box held a sleek clutch, smooth to the touch and perfectly matched to the dress. She ran her fingers over it, exhaling a sigh she hadn’t even realized she was holding. The last box was lighter. She gave it a little shake, then opened it.

Tom Ford.

One spritz on her wrist and the scent wrapped around her like silk, deep, sensual, grown. It smelled like everything she was trying to step into: freedom, femininity, peace.

Tucked inside the dress box was a folded note. Her hands trembled slightly as she unfolded it.

I want to see you in all of this tomorrow, but especially that smile you’re wearing right now. - Brooks

Taylor let out a shaky breath and sat down, still in those heels, boxes everywhere, her room looking like Saks Fifth.

She thought about the day she had. Her morning first and how she’d finally filed the divorce papers. About her parents, still in love with the idea of Tyree, asking if she’d done enough. About smiling through girls’ night, pretending she was okay but bursting at the seams to tell someone about her life.

And then there was Brooks. Showing up like always. No questions. Just pressure. Brooks walked it like he talked it. That was a fact.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Brooks:You made it in yet?

She smiled, slow, spent, grateful.

Of course he’d text. That earlier check-in was just the setup.

This was the real play. And he’d executed it like only he could. This time it was her chance to end the text chain with a Facetime call. She wanted to be the one who showed up this time.

The screen rang once.

And then there he was.

He was home—she could tell by the familiar walls behind him, the durag low on his forehead, and those black-rimmed glasses he only wore when he was winding down.

Taylor removed her scrunchie letting her hair, bounce everywhere as she leaned into the camera, her eyes soft.

But his softer.

“You been drinking Tay?”

“No. Well, yes but I only had one lemon drop. I’m not a hypocrite,” she said, a subtle smile tugging at her lips.

“I believe you,” he said, leaning back slightly. “You enjoy yourself tonight? Y’all was shaking ass and being hot?”

“I did… but let’s talk about my gifts. You don’t get away.” Her voice warmed as she flipped her camera, showing off her freshly polished pink toes nestled in the heels he’d picked out for her. “These are everything. You surprise me all the time Brooks.”

He chuckled low, the sound rolling through the speaker. “You look good in ‘em. Better than I imagined. And really, I surprise you?”

She bit her lip, turning the camera back to her face. “Yes, but not in a bad way. The dress is beautiful, everything is perfect.”

---