Chapter 25:
Taylor hummed a little tune as he let himself into the apartment. He had a nice buzz going, thanks to the meal he'd had with Zac that afternoon. Feeling guilty for burdening his little brother with his endless issues (and costing him a plane ticket back to Tulsa), Taylor had decided to treat him to a lavish lunch at Ruth's Chris Steak House. He had also taken the waiter's advice and paired his New York strip with a glass (or three) of strong Merlot. Zac had eyed him warily as he polished off more than half of a bottle of wine all on his own, but surprisingly enough, he kept his thoughts to himself.
He hoped the girls weren't home. He wasn't sure he could handle facing either of them - particularly Alexa - and had purposefully chosen to return at a time when he thought they'd both still be at work. He could feel a food coma descending, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed, put on some mellow music and relax for the rest of the day. But as it were, the universe refused to allow him such a luxury.
"Hey Tay!" Mason chirped from her perch on the living room couch.
"Oh...hey," he said, trying to keep his disappointment from showing.
Mason waved him over eagerly, giving him no choice but to join her. He dropped onto the opposite end of the couch, toying with the fraying edges of his scarf as she continued to stare at him.
"Where did you run off to the other night?" she asked. "Lex said you weren't feeling well..."
"Yeah, I think I wound up coming down with something, so I crashed at Zac's to sleep it off," he replied in as casual a tone as he could manage. "Plus, I figured you guys might want some privacy...you know, to celebrate and all."
She chuckled and flashed him a mischievous grin that implied that she and Alexa had indeed taken advantage of having the apartment to themselves. A ripple of jealousy crept down Taylor's spine, and he closed his eyes to rid himself of the feeling.
"Feeling better now?"
The real answer was no - and the concern in her big blue eyes was only making him feel worse, adding to the massive knot of guilt deep within his gut - but he nodded all the same.
"What's all this?" he asked in an attempt to change the subject, taking in the mess of photo albums and stray Polaroids strewn across the coffee table.
"I'm trying to find a picture to use for our engagement announcement, but it's proving to be a lot harder than I thought," Mason explained as she continued to flip through the small book in her lap.
Taylor bit his lip to stop himself from saying that if she found this difficult, then she might want to reconsider the idea of marriage altogether. So many people seemed to believe that being married was as simple and straightforward as taking a stroll in the park, but Taylor knew from experience that it was more like struggling down a long, hard road littered with unexpected bumps and potholes.
Mason eventually closed the photo album and set it down, her gaze drifting to the clock.
"Well, I guess I'd better head to work. This wedding ain't gonna pay for itself, after all," she said, standing up. "Feel free to take a look through the pictures if you want. Maybe you'll have better luck than I did."
Taylor grunted a less than enthusiastic response, but Mason didn't seem to hear it as she bustled around the room in a frantic search for her purse and cell phone. If he'd been just a tad more intoxicated, he would have informed her that he'd rather endure a root canal without novocaine than search for their engagement photo. Yet once Mason was gone, he found himself drawn to the leather-bound book like a masochistic moth to a flame. He knew that navigating the history of their relationship would cause him nothing but pain, but he couldn't stop himself.
He scanned row after row of captured moments, his frown deepening with each new page that he turned. After awhile, though, Taylor was surprised to feel his misery slowly abating until it transformed into something else entirely - nostalgia.
He paused on a shot of Mason and Alexa from that winter. They were on a ski lift, wearing matching smiles and bright blue snowsuits, their cheeks windblown and sunkissed. For a moment, Taylor was transported back in time, back to the trips he and Melanie used to take to the Colorado mountains. He remembered thinking he was a pretty decent skier until she'd kicked his ass on every slope. He remembered sharing steaming mugs of cocoa and mulled cider before making love on the floor of their log cabin, kept warm by each other's body heat and the crackling fire. He remembered waking up beside her and thinking that nothing else in the world could ever match the feeling of being in her arms.
A fat tear splashed onto the page, distorting the picture of perfection, and only then did Taylor realize that he was crying. Swiping angrily at his eyes, he slammed the photo album closed and stormed off toward the kitchen. His pleasant buzz from earlier had turned into a fierce, stabbing pain, and he needed something else - something stronger - to make it go away.
"Well, hello Mr. Daniels...so we meet again," he muttered, pulling a large bottle from the top shelf of the liquor cabinet.
After twisting the cap off, he fell down into a chair at the kitchen table and took several swigs.
"Here's to the happy couple," he announced darkly as he brandished the bottle of whiskey in the air, making a toast to no one but himself.
* * * * * * * * *
Taylor eventually migrated back to the living room with Jack Daniels in tow. The alcohol had certainly done its job of making him a lot more drunk, but it had failed at taking his mind off of the pictures.
He stumbled over to the couch and picked up a random handful of Polaroids. He sifted through them one by one, his breath catching in his throat when he reached a candid shot that looked to be fairly recent. Alexa was pressing a kiss to the side of Mason's head, both arms wrapped around the other girl's waist in an endearing show of affection.
Well, I think I just found your engagement photo, he declared, setting the picture down beside the pile at a slight distance from the others.
As he took another burning gulp of liquor, he was hit by another forceful wave of sadness. Why had he let himself get attached to someone who was already taken? How could he possibly compete with the love they had for each other?
He was too far gone to hear the key turning in the lock, but the distinct sound of sobbing cut through his haze. He looked up through bleary eyes to find Alexa standing in the doorway, her shoulders shaking as she cried. Her oversized sweatshirt seemed to swallow her up, making her look so small and fragile. She gasped for air like she was drowning, like no amount of oxygen she pulled into her lungs would ever be enough. She let go of her purse and didn't even flinch when it hit the floor with a resounding thud. The sight of her was enough to crack Taylor's heart into pieces, breaking it more than it already was.
Finally, the tears stopped and she walked right up to Taylor, close enough that he could see the bloodshot veins that stretched across her eyes like spiderwebs. Snatching the bottle away from him, she took a long drink before slumping down into the empty seat beside him.
"I can't do this, Tay," she whispered.