Page 72 of Waiting For A Girl Like You
The sting of embarrassment singed her cheeks. She had forgotten. Taylor’s deceased husband had never been more than a whisper around the office. Jamison knew there had been a mourning period, but that was about the extent of the information she had.
“I’m sorry.” She would own her horrible misstep. Forgetting something like a dead husband was unacceptable, even if it was Taylor. “I know firsthand what losing a loved one can do to a person, and I didn’t mean to be so insensitive.”
The lines in Taylor’s face softened. “It’s okay. I don’t talk about him much, so you’re not the only person who forgets.”
“What was he like?” Being around her family, she had learned a thing or two about grief. Most people tried to avoid conversations regarding those who had passed, but that wasn’t necessarily the right way to handle things. Sometimes, those left behind were internally begging to have the chance to speak about their loved ones. “He was so young when he died.”
Taylor nodded, and as if she were uncomfortable maintaining eye contact, her gaze drifted to the movie screen where Toby’s information was on a constantly rotating cycle of pictures, reports, and video interviews. “It was tough in the beginning. We did everything together and had since we were kids. He was my first love, my first everything, and when he died, my world just stopped,” she said quietly. “We were in the process of buying a house and starting a family. I even had baby names picked out. Rachel for a girl and Dane for a boy. Cute, right?”
Her stomach twisted in knots. She knew the hope and the pain that came with its loss well. “Those are very cute baby names.”
“But then our happy life ended because he made a stupid mistake.”
The anger in Taylor’s voice spoke volumes. She wasn’t over the loss, and her emotions were hanging soundly behind the many shades of grief. Like everyone else in the world, Taylor was allowed to process her pain in whatever way helped her cope, so if anger and resentment over her husband’s death were what got her through, then it was best to leave it alone.
But curious to a fault, Jamison couldn’t stop her questions. “A mistake?”
“Yeah.” The word slid past Taylor’s lips with a heartbreaking sigh. She continued to stare at the screen, squinting at the small square in the corner broadcasting Toby’s interview from the day before. “He kept overindulging himself all the time, and finally, it was thatjust one moreattitude that put him down for good.”
“I don’t know what else to say other than I’m sorry.”
Continuing to stare at the interview, Taylor stiffened, and Jamison understood the feeling. Seeing Toby was like watching a car wreck happen in real time.
“He really looks bad, doesn’t he?” Taylor whispered.
Jamison glanced over. The sound was muted so Rowan could sleep, but the adoration shining in Toby’s eyes said the video was in the section of playback where he and Evie were speaking. “Prison will do that to you.”
“I remember how handsome he was when he was arrested and thinking, how could a gorgeous, articulate doctor be considered a monster?” Taylor’s lip curled in revulsion. “But like I said a second ago, dangerous people hide behind pretty faces.”
“Toby’s pretty face once had an army of people willing to do anything for it.”
“Not anymore.” Shaking her head, Taylor turned away from the screen. “At first, I thought those people who wanted to get involved did so because they were going through some phase, depending on where they were in life, but no. It really grew, didn’t it? Almost overnight, there were legions of people proclaiming his innocence regardless of what the evidence showed.”
“That kind of crap happens every day. Humans love to live in denial as long as they’re accepted,” Jamison replied, and smiled sheepishly when Taylor arched an eyebrow. “Sorry, being around Liam and his dad so much, I’ve listened to their discussions, and I guess some of it has rubbed off on me.”
“No, I think you’re absolutely right. Acceptance is incredibly powerful and can be an excellent manipulation tool if handled correctly.”
It was Jamison’s turn to arch an eyebrow, and Taylor grinned. “Hey, I can be insightful. I watch Dr. Cohen’s documentaries all the time. Don’t tell him because it’ll make it weird, but I’m a huge fan and geek out every time I see him.”
Jamison chuckled. “I won’t tell him.”
“Speaking of Dr. Cohen,” Taylor began coyly. “What’s this I hear about you and Liam getting married in a week?”
“Six days.”
Snatching up the water bottle next to her laptop, Jamison took a giant gulp. This might be the first non-hostile conversation she’d had with Taylor, and it was nice and all, but a piece of her wanted to keep things quiet.
“We’re doing it here,” she said, knowing Taylor wouldn’t leave it alone until she had more information. “Something small with only us.”
“Let me know when you go to get the license so that I can brief your department. The second a county clerk sees the name Fairweather on a marriage certificate, they’ll be running to the press.”
Realizing she had a point, Jamison felt relieved that Taylor was willing to handle things. While her father worked to keep his stress levels even during all this, she was the opposite. Her job had been the furthest thing on her mind since stepping back through the doors of Haven House.
“I’ll draft a statement for Tammy to have on file and then copy you on it,” Jamison said, thinking she was long overdue for a gossip session with her assistant. Tammy would have questions about what was happening, and while she couldn’t answer most of them, she could at least check in on her friend. “You should have the email by this afternoon.”
“Perfect.” Taylor shot her a smile, her face blooming into something beautiful as she stood. “I hope everything goes well with the wedding. If you need me to do anything, don’t hesitate to ask. Liam doesn’t want you off the property without him, but we can wrangle up an FBI agent or two if you need to get out and pick something up personally.”
Jamison checked the time on her phone. “I wish he would hurry. How long does it take to have stitches looked at?”
