Page 132 of Forgotten Comeback
“Hey, Mrs. Mazza. Sorry about the misunderstanding,” Gavin gives his best version of a choir boy smile. It’s more deranged-looking than anything.
“Are you calling kidnapping me a misunderstanding?” Kat crosses her arms.
“No harm, no foul, right?” Turning to me, he wraps me in his arms. “Taylor, baby, I’ll be back later.”
“Yeah,” I say, rising to my toes and giving him a quick kiss before he walks out.
“When did you start this thing with Gavin?” Kat asks, her voice laced with a hint of judgment.
“That’s a complicated question.”
She narrows her eyes. “Taylor, it really isn’t.”
“How did you find my studio?” I change the subject.
“Stalked you on social media; you updated your artist page with your studio deets.”
“Right,” I say, giving my bracelet a twirl, awkward silence filling the space. “It sucks things have gotten weird between us.”
“Yeah,” she says on a sigh. “It does suck.” She walks around my studio, stopping at theMaid of Dishonorpainting. “It also sucks that you didn’t feel safe enough to tell me about your hospitalization.” She turns to me, hurt in her eyes.
“It also sucks that you found out by your husband prying invasively into my medical history,” I counter.
She holds up her hands. “I’m sorry, but you don’t understand his world.”
“I’m beginning to,” I tell her honestly.
“Fabio isn’t one to forgive and forget,” she warns.
“Gavin’s off limits, so it looks like your husband will at least have to forgive.” I cross my arms, using Fabio’s words against them both.
“And why is that?” Kat wonders. “All I know is I’m at the reception, you leave, and then my husband leaves, and now suddenly, the restaurant is undergoing lobby ‘renovations.’”
“That’s something you’d have to talk to your husband about. I don’t have answers.” Sure, I could take an educated guess. Gavin blew up the restaurant, and tit for tat, Fabio blew up his car. But I keep the speculation to myself. “Look, Gavin and I had a complicated start to our relationship, but as I told you over text, the man saved me from Dominic.”
“Taylor, I’m so sorry,” Kat says genuinely.
Tears threaten to fall from my eyes. “He was your ex for a reason, right?”
She wraps her arms around me, and we hug. “Let the men fight it out, and let’s get hammered at brunch with bottomless mimosas.”
“Sure, I’d love to go to brunch. But I’ll have to be the good cop; I’m working tonight.”
“But I heard you’re not working at the Diamond anymore?”
“The rumors are true.” I smile brightly. “It’s an artist gig.”
My friend examines me. “I haven’t seen you this happy in years.”
“Yeah, I’ve found my passion again. After Nana died, that’s when things went off the rails for me, and I stopped painting.”
“Your trip out west to visit family after the funeral, did that really happen, or were you?—”
“Lying about my hospitalization? Yeah, I don’t have any surviving family,” I say softly.
“Taylor,” she says, dabbing her eyes.
My eyes are getting bleary, but I need this off my chest. “After a misdiagnosis of depression, I had a pretty severe manic episode following Nana’s death; that landed me in the psych ward. Spent a month there and was finally correctly diagnosed with Bipolar 1.” While my residency wasn’t a five-star resort stay, I didn’t experience the horrible trauma that Gavin went through. In fact, my hospital stint probably saved my life. “That’s why I went to dealer school and joined you at the Diamond; I needed the medical insurance after that whole experience,” I explain. “I’m still paying off the debt.”
