Chapter 3:
Ready to pass out and sleep for at least twenty-four hours without interruption, Taylor staggered into the hotel lobby and immediately cringed when the fluorescent light attacked his tired eyes. He placed one hand on his forehead to shield his eyes from the light and the other on the wall in an attempt to steady himself. When he finally trusted that he could make his way to his room without falling down, he walked through the lobby only to stop in his tracks at the front desk. It was as though he'd been sucked into a time warp as he surveyed the familiar face staring back at him. He knew that tossed blonde hair, those loud blue eyes, the smattering of light brown freckles across her cheeks and nose, the tiny beauty mark at the left corner of her mouth.
Mason Roberts was a brief yet intense year of his life, right before he met his wife. She was striking in both looks and personality, her energy infectious. Whether she was happy or sad, the emotions just poured out of her, touching everyone around her. She was fiercely passionate and tended to wear her heart on her sleeve, which complicated things in their relationship at times but also added a certain fire, a delicious spark. Looking back, they'd had a lot of fun together. She was a breath of fresh air compared to so many other girls who threw themselves shamelessly at him and would do or say anything to please him. Mason had no problem being herself, and Taylor had always admired and even somewhat envied her for that.
There was a time when Taylor believed that he would be with Mason for a long time. But then he met Melanie and his entire world shifted, much like it was shifting now.
"There is no way that you're actually in my hotel right now." Mason closed the magazine she'd been leafing through and jumped to her feet.
"Want me to pinch you to let you know you're not dreaming?" Taylor hoped his words didn't sound as morbid or as sluggish as he felt.
"Oh my God!" Mason practically screamed as she abandoned her post behind the counter and threw her arms around his neck. Returning her tight embrace, Taylor couldn't help but think that her hair smelled exactly the same as it had all those years ago. For a moment, it was as though he'd never met Melanie and the last several years of his life hadn't even happened.
"You smell like a bar," Mason teased when she finally pulled away.
"That's because I spent the last four hours in one," he said.
Mason narrowed her eyes at him and stepped back, finally taking a good look at him. Running a hand though his hair and feeling the limp, unwashed strands between his fingers, Taylor suddenly remembered what a mess he was. He could see the questions in her eyes before she voiced them.
"I'm not sure if anyone has ever told you this before, but you look like hell," she said bluntly. "What's going on? Why are you here? Where's Mel?"
Taylor looked away. He felt the bright lights in the lobby closing in on him again and his vision began to blur. He closed his eyes and the darkness helped him to recover, but when he opened them he knew it was too late. Mason had already seen him falter.
"Taylor?" she prodded gently, when he didn't respond.
He met her eyes again, actually shocked by her sympathetic tone. The no-nonsense girl he remembered would have pulled him by his dirty hair and yanked the truth out of him. Maybe she'd changed after all.
"Melanie left me," he said finally. The words felt foreign as they dropped from his lips. Yet he knew that they were real.
"Jesus, Tay. I'm so sorry. How long did--Nevermind, I'm sure you don't want to talk about it. Not in the state you're in right now, at least."
"Thank you," he said, grateful that she understood.
"You should probably go get some sleep," Mason said. "You really do look like hell."
"I know. You seem to enjoy pointing that out to me," Taylor said. He pretended to sound offended, but he knew how awful he looked and couldn't help but laugh.
"I'm sorry," she said, reaching up to brush a lock of hair from his forehead. "But I have to admit, you're still gorgeous even on your worst day."
Taylor was hardly surprised by her small displays of affection toward him. She'd always been outgoing and forward in that way.
"How long are you staying in New York?" she asked.
"That's a good question," he said. "I honestly don't know. I just needed to get away from Tulsa for awhile, and this is where I ended up."
"Well, I don't have to work tomorrow and my entire day is pretty free," Mason said. "Want to hang out? I'll make us lunch and we can catch up. And if you're not in the mood to talk, we can just sit around and watch movies, which I always love doing on my days off."
"Sure," he said, the offer sounding too good to pass up. It had been awhile since he'd had a meal that wasn't horribly greasy and devoid of basic nutritional value. And he thought it might benefit him to actually spend some time with another human being rather than sulk alone in his hotel room all day.
"Great!" She tore a piece of paper from the pad at the front desk and wrote her address on it, then placed it in his hand. "Come over anytime. I'll be home all day."
"Thanks," he said, folding the strip of paper in half and sliding it carefully into his back pocket. "It's pretty incredible that out of all of the millions of people in this city, I ran into you tonight."
"It's a small world, isn't it?" Mason said, before glancing at the large clock on the wall. "Well, I'd better go finish up a few things before my shift ends. Go get some rest. You'll sleep well - the beds here are really comfortable."
"I'll see you tomorrow," he said.
As Taylor made his way to his room, he couldn't help but wonder if something much more powerful than random chance had landed him in that particular hotel that night.
* * * * * * * * *
Mason was right. Taylor slept wonderfully. He knew it probably had something to do with the alcohol, but he was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow and didn't wake up until noon. He awoke feeling refreshed and peaceful, like he'd been sleeping on a cloud.
He took his time getting ready and then went down to the lobby for a cup of coffee. After finishing his coffee in several large gulps, he retrieved Mason's address from his back pocket and began making his way to her apartment.
As he navigated through the endless stream of people bustling along the crowded streets, Taylor was hit with a sudden pang of guilt for leaving home and all of his obligations on such a selfish impulse. He even considered turning on his cell phone to check the messages that he knew were filling up his inbox. He rarely went a single day without speaking to his brothers; they were probably extremely worried and concerned. They had every right to be.
But he still needed time. He wasn't ready to face the harsh reality that he'd left behind.