The Summer's End

Taylor stopped walking and turned to face her. “Not in a long time. Like I said, I’m feeling good. I go out and leave him at home all the time. But . . .” Taylor looked at the sea again, his mouth pinched. After a moment he looked back at her, holding her gaze. “Harper, I worry that it might come back. I’m afraid, if we’re sleeping together, I might have a nightmare and hurt you. I couldn’t bear that.”

Harper caught her breath, understanding. Harper knew that his not calling her the past few days, his “turtling,” was not about his not thinking of her. Quite the contrary, he was only thinking of her.

“I’m glad you told me this.” Harper reached out to take his hand. “I just wish you’d have told me right away.” She laughed shortly. “Texted me, at least.”

Taylor played with her fingers. “It’s hard to explain all that in a text.”

“The closer we get, the more we have to trust each other.”

He looked up from their joined hands. “So, I take it by that that you’ll see me again?”

A smile twitched at her lips. “Oh, yes.”

The tension fled from his face and he smiled. He began walking again, but Harper pulled at his arm, stopping him. “Don’t be shy about asking for your space when you need it, Taylor. Take all the time and space you need. Just tell me. Okay?”

Taylor’s eyes kindled. “I don’t want any space between us now.” He leaned toward her, sliding his arms around her, and pulled her closer.

Later they ate dinner at Bushido as planned. It was a favorite among locals and tourists alike, the subtly Asian atmosphere sleek and inviting. Once they were seated, the waitress promptly came to take their drink order.

“I’ll have a mango martini.”

Taylor looked at the waitress. “A mango martini and a pale ale.”

The waitress quickly returned with their drinks and stood poised for their order. “Do you need more time?”

Harper looked at Taylor with one brow raised. From his wry grin, she knew he’d caught the double entendre.

“Yes, please,” he told the waitress.

Harper took a long sip of her martini, enjoying the chilled sweetness.

Taylor leaned across so his face was close to Harper’s. He couldn’t withhold the wide grin that spread across his face. “I got the job!”

Harper was taken aback. “My God, that was fast. Congratulations!”

“You’re looking at Boeing’s new project manager. I start training in three weeks.”

Harper clapped her hands together in delight. “I’m so proud of you.”

Taylor took a pull from his beer, then shook his head as though he still couldn’t believe the news. “You know, two years ago, I didn’t think I had a future. It’s one of the symptoms of PTSD. I know that now, but back then I was deep in the dark. I didn’t expect to have a career, marriage, children. A normal life. So now, to get this great job, to have you by my side . . .” He shook his head again. “I feel on top of the world.” He raised his bottle of beer. “Here’s to the future!”

Harper raised her glass and they clinked. In her mind she wondered, What future? She sipped the martini, then set the glass on the small square napkin. “So”—she looked into his eyes—“you’ll be here in Charleston.”

“Right.”

“But I’ll be in New York.”

Taylor’s arm froze midair. He drank from his glass, then set it on the table. “Is that definite?”

“I don’t have any other plans.”

“You’re moving back in with your mother?” His tone reflected his disbelief.

“No,” she replied in a rush. “But I’m moving back to New York. Probably.”

“Why New York?”

“New York is still the heart of the publishing industry in this country. It’s where the jobs are. But if not New York, it’ll be London.”

Taylor’s eyes widened. “As in London, England?”

“Of course London, England. There are serious publishing jobs there. My grandparents live not far from the city. It makes sense.”

“Aren’t there jobs you could get here?”

“Maybe. But far fewer opportunities. Smaller companies. Anyway, why would I do that?”

Taylor leaned back in his chair and spread out his hands. “I would have thought that was obvious.”

Harper bent her head. Her toes curled in her shoes.

“What about everything you said about loving this place?” Taylor’s tone had suddenly gone dull. “Feeling at home here?”

“It’s all very good to feel at home here. Unfortunately, the place I call home is being sold, and there’s that business of having to get a job and finding a place to live.” She said softly, “You could come to New York with me.”

“What? I just got this job. And it’s exactly what I was looking for!”

“So, it’s me that has to relocate.”

He looked broadsided. “Whoa, are we really having this discussion? Already?”

Harper let her fingers run down the stem of her glass, trying to hold her tongue. Taylor had made his decision, found a job, and his path was paved. He was assuming that she’d simply follow suit, only he’d ignored the possibility that she’d be applying for a job outside of Charleston.

And wasn’t she being just as overbearing with Taylor? She’d blithely been assuming that he’d consider a move to New York with her. But he’d been ambitious and beaten her to the punch by landing a great job in Charleston. Meanwhile, here it was already the end of August and she had yet to lift one finger to prepare for the fall.

“Yes, we’re having this discussion,” she replied evenly. “If you want any input into whether I go or stay.”

“It’s simple. Stay.”

“Oh, Taylor . . .”

Their eyes met and they both looked away.

Harper drained her martini glass. “We could have a long-distance relationship,” suggested Harper, breaking the silence. “I could fly in on weekends or sometimes you could come to New York.”

“My schedule is going to be crazy during training—day shifts, night shifts, weekends. It’ll be hard enough trying to find time to be together if you were living here in town. But out of town?” He shook his head. “Forget it. It wouldn’t work.”’