Page 99 of Up In Flames
Taylor
Routine is not a word I’ve ever considered using when thinking about my life. In fact, it’s been my enemy for a long time. The traditional nine-to-five, the marriage at twenty-two with two-point-five children and a dog, working just to buy shit I don’t need to keep up with people I don’t like makes me feel itchy and claustrophobic. TheAmerican dreamisn’t the dream I want to chase.
Yet, here I am, pulling my phone out to text my boyfriend that I’ve landed safely…as is myroutine.
And honestly? It doesn’t feel bad.
Iwantto do it.
I crave Knox’s reply, which comes almost immediately.
Knox
I’m so happy you’re safe and back home. I’ll wrap up here and meet you at your place.
Knox makes routine feel good.Safe and secure in a way I haven’t felt since being blindsided. For the sake of my andKnox’s relationship, I’ve really been working on letting the past go. He even encouraged me to talk to a therapist, which was not something I’d expected, but his argument had been valid.
So, over the last several weeks, I’ve been working on overcoming the fears that remain after my breakup with Patrick, and I’ve been working up the courage to tell the rest of my family that Knox and I are seeing each other.
As Thanksgiving approaches, it’s really fucking hard not to slip into the Doomsday mindset. After all, Patrick and I had planned to tell our families about our relationship over the holidays, too…we just happened to get outed before we had the chance.
For once, I’m not on a red-eye flight, and it’s four in the afternoon as we taxi to the gate. I go through the motions of filling out the paperwork after the flight, clocking out, and making the long trek to the employee lot, my excitement over going home to Knox ramping up the entire drive home.
Pulling my BMW into my apartment complex, my heart flips when I see Knox’s truck already in the lot.
I grab my suitcase out of the trunk, lock up, and hit the elevator.
When the doors open, Knox is on the other side holding a single long-stemmed rose that looks like it’s been dipped in gold powder. We’d exchanged keys several weeks ago, and it felt so right, it was almost scary.
“What’s this?” I ask, stepping off the elevator.
Instead of answering me, Knox says, “Christ, I love seeing you in this uniform.”
My navy-blue pants have a skinny leg and a tapered ankle. A white, short-sleeved button-down is under a navy-blue fitted vest. Admittedly, my white shirt is probably a size too small and it hugs my arms, but what can I say? I like to look good at thirty-five thousand feet.
“You love seeing me out of it, too,” I flirt, grabbing the flower and kissing my boyfriend.
“You’re damn right, I do,” Knox replies, taking the handle of my suitcase for me as he leads me down the hallway to my apartment. When he opens the door, the first thing I notice is the painting he and I made a few months ago hanging on the living room wall.
“Ohmygod, I love it. Thank you so much for hanging it!” The color scheme doesn’t exactly match, but it’s perfect, nonetheless.
“Sorry it took me so long to get it up,” Knox apologizes.
“Baby, it doesn’t ever take you long to get it up,” I reply with a wink. “Are you going to tell me what the flower and act of service is for, or are you going to let me continue thinking the worst?”
“Flowers,” he says, emphasizing thes. “And nothing’s wrong, so stop thinking bad things.”
I turn around to look where he nodded and see a vase with eleven more golden roses. Suddenly, he’s at my back, his hands wrapped around me, working to open the buttons on my vest and untucking my shirt so he can lay his palms flat against my stomach.
“Happy three-month anniversary,” he whispers against my ear.
Be still, my fucking heart.
I turn in his arms and wrap my own around his neck.
Why am I crying?
“Why are you crying, Princess?” Knox echoes a second later.
