Alone Together

The next morning, Taylor stretched happily, reveling in the feeling of her ribs expanding as her back arched off the mattress. After a satisfying pop of her shoulders, she shimmied back onto the bed and rolled onto her side, smiling at the snoring sleeper next to her.

Pete’s mouth was half open, and Taylor giggled noticing the small amount of drool clinging to his lips. His hair was sticking up in odd angles, hidden by the pillow that covered half of his head. He looked so innocent, she thought with a blush, so much more innocent than he’d been the night before.

He seemed to sense her stare, and his eyes fluttered open in confusion, his eyelashes batting together like he was trying to be coy. When his eyes finally focused on her, his lips twitched up into a blissful smile, and he pulled her into his chest with a contented sigh.

“Good morning,” he yawned, hiding the other half of his face into her hair.

She giggled and pushed the pillow off of his head. “Good morning yourself.” She shivered at the feeling of the scruff on his cheek rubbing against her neck, and he chuckled.

“I had the weirdest dream,” he murmured. “I was back in your old apartment, but, like, it wasn’t actually your apartment. And then you showed up and freaked out on me for being in your room and cops looking like the Wendy’s girl came to get me.”

Taylor raised an eyebrow but held in her laugh. “That is indeed a very peculiar dream,” she nodded. “Is now a bad time to mention that the Wendy’s cops are actually on their way now?”

He stuck his tongue out at her. “As long as they’re bringing me a Frostee, whatever.”

They were quiet for a while, reveling in the nuzzles and caresses the other laid upon them. When his fingers grew tired from running through her hair, Pete spoke. “I can’t wait to be able to do this when we’re back home,” he whispered.

“Home?” Taylor’s mouth suddenly felt very comparable to sand paper, or the mulch she had just laid in the local library’s garden the last week.

Pete blinked. “Well, yeah, when we get back to Chicago.”

The sheets swished in the silence and then the two were staring at each other from opposite ends of the bed, Pete very confused and Taylor now tightly holding the comforter rather than her lover.

“What do you mean, back to Chicago? Pete, I live here now.”

“Yeah, I know that.” Pete couldn’t understand why she was getting so bent out of shape. “I just figured that now that we found each other and all—“

“That I would just move back to Chicago?” She suddenly felt very self-conscious in front of him, cursing her shirt for being so far away on the floor. “Pete, I have my dad here. My business. I can’t just leave.”

It had been such a wonderful evening, promising to be such a lovely morning, but her words lit a fire in Pete more dangerous than a volcano. It felt like the world was spinning as he pushed back the covers and stood before the bed. Taylor looked blurry when he looked over at her, more from his fury rather the tears threatening to spill over his cheeks.

“Can’t just leave? You can’t just leave?” Maybe it was weird to pace when you were naked, but Pete was hardly even aware. Taylor’s eyes remained steadily on his face, so the fact seemed to remain irrelevant to them both. “But you just left Chicago. You left all of us there. You left me. Is your business that much more important?”

Taylor was shaking her head before he’d even finished talking. “No, no, Pete, it doesn’t even compare—“

“Listen, Taylor, I am trying very hard not to flip on you right now, so maybe it’d be better if you head home.” His voice struck her in every cavity of her heart, and the look he gave her indicated that he was dead serious. Before she could protest he stalked off to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him with a loud curse.

The tears waited to fall until she’d made her back to her apartment, but it didn’t matter. It seemed she would always cry over Pete Wentz.

--

“Didn’t think you’d make any time for your best friend this whole trip,” Patrick said. He and Taylor were sitting in her office, since she had neglected her work for the past three days since the band had rolled into town. Patrick was playing with one of the many odd trinkets Taylor had lining her desk while she sorted through some of the paperwork Lilah had left her.

Taylor glanced over at him from her place behind her desk. “What do you mean? I’ve spent all week with you.”

He snorted. “Oh, please. Between Rae and Pete we’ve hardly spoken.”

She bit her lip and shrugged, shuffling together the paperwork for a contract with a local park. “Well, that I am very sorry I have neglected you so,” she murmured. Pushing the papers to the side, she rested her chin in her hands. “I’m all yours.”

Patrick laughed. “You know I don’t mind. We’re all pretty happy to see you and Pete have finally figured your stuff out.”

Taylor bit her lip and sat back in her seat. “Well, we haven’t exactly gotten it all figured out,” she said softly, trying to ignore the questioning look that flitted across Patrick’s face.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “You two seemed pretty happy yesterday. Did dinner with your dad not go so well?”

Taylor shrugged and stood up, walking over to the window she was fond of gazing out of. “No, dinner went fine. In fact the whole evening was fine. It was just this morning.” Somehow the ends of her hair become fascinating in that moment, and she watched as her fingers tugged and played with it.

Patrick watched her from his seat, and when it didn’t seem like she was going to continue, he cleared his throat. “What happened this morning?”

“Hmm?” She looked back at him, almost having forgotten that he was there. “Um, I think we had a fight.”

Patrick groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose as if he felt an impending migraine. “About what?”

“Me going back to Chicago.”

Patrick frowned. “You’re going back to Chicago? Why is that a bad thing?”

“It wouldn’t be, if I was. It’s just, Pete said he couldn’t wait until we were back there. But I never really thought about going back. And now he thinks I think my business is more important to me than he is.”

Patrick was quiet, giving her a look that only the best of friends are capable of delivering. It was searching her eyes for a glimpse into her soul, trying to help her decipher her inner thoughts. “Is it?” he asked.

Taylor expected herself to answer right away, but her mouth froze, her lips held in a curious pause. “I…of course it’s not. But it’s still important to me.” She started pacing, blushing when she imagined Pete doing the same that morning.

How to explain when she couldn’t even make sense in her own mind? Her business was something she’d dreamed about ever since she was a little girl. It had always been important to her, because it had been a connection to her father, and the sense of peace that flowers and the outdoors brought her was something that couldn’t be rivaled.

But Pete…

Pete had been the one to reunite her with her father. He had understood her better than any human ever could, and certainly more than was possible for any flower. Before Pete, her happiness was never to its fullest potential; and after Pete, well, those four years had been torture. Recovery was difficult when you’d had a taste of happiness.

Why couldn’t she have both?

Evidently she had spoken these thoughts out loud as she inwardly debated with herself, evidenced by the understanding look on Patrick’s face when she turned back to him and the blush she felt flooding her cheeks.

“I don’t think Pete means for you to have to give up your business for him, Tay,” he said softly. “I mean, we’re on tour. The band just got together. I know Pete, and I know he knows how dick-ish it would be to make you give something like that up when we’re gonna be out doing all this stuff for the band. I think he’s just scared.”

“Scared of what?” she asked. Her eyes had flicked back to the window, down to a happy couple walking on the street below.

Patrick sighed and walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder in attempt to be comforting. “Losing you again.” The couple below were laughing, holding hands and smiling. Patrick looked down at them with a smile. “I know you’re new to this whole thing, Taylor, but love? It is terrifying.”

Taylor laughed, and Patrick held up a hand. “Like, it may look like Rae and I have it all together, but—“ He looked away, rubbing at his eyes. “I cannot tell you how many mornings I wake up terrified that it all might be a dream. And when I see her next to me, slobbering over my pillow like the mess she is, it’s the happiest moment of my life. Because I realize that this amazing woman is with me, and loves me, and the dreams I have are just that—dreams.”

He tugged at her shoulder, making her tear her gaze away from the window and giving her one of the most stern looks he could manage. “Pete has been living in a dream for the last four years, Taylor, except every time he wakes up? All he finds is an empty bed. As his best friend, I can safely assure you that every day for Pete without you is a nightmare.”

“I love him, Patrick,” she said. It was the simplest fact in her life at the moment, and yet the most complicated.

All Patrick could do was nod, knowing full well there was nothing he could do or say to make the matter any easier for her. He knew Taylor well enough to know that she wouldn’t be returning to Chicago, and not because she didn’t want to be with Pete. There were memories there that would forever be tainted; the beginnings with Pete that were scorned by the eternal image of Ashlee. Taylor wasn’t one to build a life over someone else’s memories. If there was to be a Pete and Taylor, it would have to be somewhere neutral and new.

“You could always expand the business?” he suggested. “Move it to another town, get some new clientele.”

There was no other advice to give. Until Taylor figured out the jumble in her head and Pete got over his issues, there could be no resolution. So instead of crying about her unresolved love life, Taylor offered Patrick a watery smile as she excused herself to answer her phone.

“Hello? Yes, hi. I—what? When? Is he okay? No, no, Sylvia, it’s fine, I’ll be right there. I’ll call Evan, don’t worry.” Her face was paler than a lily when she turned back to Patrick.

“Could you be a dear and call me a cab? My dad is in the hospital.”

It was fortunate that the rug in her office was so plush. It softened the blow of her landing when she collapsed into a sobbing heap.