Paris 2008, Taylor and Ryan
Title: Paris, summer 2008
Author: fredsmith518
Beta: none, errors all mine as ever
Rating: teen
Disclaimer: Nothing owned, no monetary profit made.
Summary: So, like I said I thought, to relax, I’d write a few drabbles on Ryan and Taylor’s relationship.
This is the second one, approaching 3,300 words.
Taylor and Ryan do not co-operate with my plans…the attraction is too strong.
Oh, and thanks to kazfloyd for jump starting the muse for this part of the story.
Paris, summer 2008
Taylor waited nervously at aéroport Charles de Gaulle for Ryan’s plane to arrive. She’d researched carefully for the best flight, so that he’d have the best chance to avoid jet lag. She was far too early - she knew that - but hadn’t wanted to take the slightest chance that she’d miss him. She wanted everything to be perfect. Nine months of therapy hadn’t beaten that trait. A slight pout formed. Now, she was just being silly. Why shouldn’t she have taken the time to look nice for him? Her hair shone, think and glossy down past her shoulders. After much thought, she’d settled on wearing a plain t.shirt and jeans as practical, in case his flight should be delayed and she be stuck at the airport for however long. She’d been pacing for the last half hour, unable to settle in a chair, although she’d tried. Flipping through a Paris Match hadn’t helped distract her either. She desperately wanted another expresso, but managed to damp down the craving - she was already jittery enough from the two previous cups. Periodically, she checked the arrival board, her watch and scanned the crowd, craning her neck to get her first glance of him, hopefully before he saw her.
She needed this reunion to go well. She hadn’t been at all sure that he’d accept her invitation to come visit her in Paris. Although, she’d parted with Ryan on good terms, the previous summer - the best terms even, she thought wistfully of the time spent together in the sleeper car - they’d made no commitment to each other. It hadn’t been reasonable to expect of either of them to make promises of fidelity when they were going to be on separate continents for the next few years at least. Once the idea to invite him had taken root however, she hadn’t been able to let go of it. For one thing, she knew it would be a useful field trip of sorts for his course and for another, although Ryan had had girlfriends since starting at Berkeley, she also knew that he was single at present. A faint smile played on her lips at that thought. She was single herself. Stop that! she admonished, Just friends, she thought firmly that’s what you said to him when you asked if he wanted to come. No strings, no expectations..
Taylor hadn’t had a boyfriend since Ryan. She’d made a conscious choice to do things differently at the Sorbonne this time. She’d concentrated on her studies and making friends. It had gone surprisingly well, considering how hard she’d found forming friendships in the past. In part, she owed Summer, Seth and, of course, Ryan for her new found skills, and most particularly for the self belief, that people would want her for a friend. Over time, she’d found a good circle of friends, male and female, and felt more accepted for who she was than at any previous time in her life. She’d learned to talk less and listen more - a skill she hoped to demonstrate to Ryan. Part of this new, healthier attitude was also down to her therapist. Taylor’s mother had sent her to see several therapists over the years, and they had done her no good whatsoever. The last therapist she'd seen in Newport - over Ryan - had been some help, but Taylor herself hadn't been ready to make the necessary changes in her life. This time it was different. She was ready and seeing a French therapist, discussing her problems in a different language, notwithstanding how fluent she was helped. Somehow, it set her at one remove and helped her to be more analytic about the thought patterns and behaviors that gave her problems.
It helped that she’d pretty much gotten to the place where she recognized that she was always going to be a disappointment to her mother, whatever she did, before she’d left Newport. Her therapist was helping her learn to relax, to be herself, not a projection of her mother’s ambition as had all too often been the case before, when she’d formed liaisons at her mother’s insistence because of what they could get her, rather than from true desire to be close to those people. Her relationships with the men in her life had also become unbalanced. She’d been so desperate to be accepted. In Paris, she hadn’t wanted to throw herself into another romantic relationship until she felt comfortable again in her own skin. She had not made such stellar choices in the past. That business with Dean Hess was just creepy. Put together with the Henri Michael debacle, she realized that she’d developed a ‘thing’ for older men. Any idiot could work out why.
Ryan had been a breath of fresh air so to speak. But she hadn’t been ready for a grown up relationship. At her heart, she’d still be searching for someone to look after her. Now, she wanted Ryan to see the changes she’d made, to recognize the progress gained towards standing on her own two feet. And there he was!
Her face lit up when she saw him coming towards her. All restraint was cast aside and she flung herself into his arms. He dropped his bags and swung her up and around, laughing.
“Hey! It’s so good to see you.” He set her on her feet and looked her over. “You look great.”
“You too,” she responded. He’d felt great too, warm and solid and familiar. The attraction she still felt for him was painfully obvious.
“So, how was your flight?” she asked in an attempt to turn her thoughts away from her increasingly fervent response to his presence.
“Long,” he replied laconically.
She loved his voice. It was so warm. She hadn’t been at all homesick, but it sure was nice to hear a familiar accent. No, it was specifically good to hear his accent. Now that he was there before her, it hit her strongly how much she’d missed him. She beamed at him.
“Come on, let’s go. I can’t wait to show you Paris. I’ve worked out a schedule of where we’ll go and what we’ll do, but we can change it if you want.”
“I’m sure it’s great.”
She loved the way his eyes lit up when he smiled.
“Shall we go?” She gestured vaguely towards the exit and the shuttle buses beyond. Another thought struck her. “Or would you rather stop and have something to eat or drink here?”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Here, or is there another choice?”
“A pavement café?
He grinned. “The full on Paris experience?”
“Absolutely.”
“Bring it on.”
“There’s one just by my apartment. The food’s great. I eat out entirely too often.”
She caught him running his eye appreciatively over her figure.
“Doesn’t seem to be doing you any harm,” he commented grinning.
She couldn't help smiling back in the face of his open admiration. The anxiety that she’d felt while waiting for him to arrive had completely gone. She felt relaxed and happy, carefree almost. She snuck a look at him, trying to gauge his level of comfort as they made their way out of the terminal to the shuttle bus. He seemed pretty relaxed too. He looked tanned and fit. She could see his interest as he took in the bustling scene around them. However, by the time they made it back into the city, he was flagging, a combination of the heat and the long journey, Taylor figured.
“How about we take a rain check on the café and go up to my apartment?” she suggested as they got off at the métro station nearest to her home. “We can come back out for something to eat later this evening when it’s cooled down some.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Ryan agreed readily.
He was still trying to take in every detail, craning his neck to look up each alleyway, admiring the stonework on the older buildings. At this rate, he’d overload his brain and spend the two weeks’ vacation permanently exhausted. She hurried him on.
“This is great.” Ryan commented after she let him into her small flat, having climbed the three flights of winding stairs. Ryan set down his luggage.
“I’m pleased with it,” she admitted. There wasn’t much of a view, but there was a tree outside and a café opposite and there were always people passing by in the street below. “I’ll give you the grand tour,” she laughed. “This is the living room, kitchenette over there.” She lead him over to the minuscule bathroom, well, more accurately shower room. He peered around the door. You would be hard pressed to fit two adults in there at once.
“Cosy,” he commented succinctly.
She nodded and edged out past him. Despite her best endeavors, they touched. She felt a familiar frisson of excitement. She ducked her head. “The bedroom’s over here.”
The bedroom was tiny too, dominated by the double bed. It was necessary to edge around to open the closet and set of drawers.
“Do you want to take a shower?” she offered belatedly.
“Hell, yes!” he responded with feeling.
She handed him a towel from the pile of linens that she’d set out ready for his use on the sofa. She tried very hard not to fixate on the sound of the shower and the thought of him under it… and failed miserably.
When he reappeared, smelling of her body wash and shampoo, she needed a distraction and quickly. She retrieved the schedule that she’d put together and showed it to him. He pursued it seriously, nodding as he scanned down the paper. She loved the furrow in his brow when he was thinking hard about something. The schedule was very much as they’d planned by email. Taylor had gotten Ryan to tell her all the places he most wanted to visit. She saw him make a double take near the end of her list. She’d expected that.
“Taylor?” he queried, pointing to the out of place venue. “I don’t remember this being mentioned.”
She smiled sweetly. “Well, no, granted, but I figured a little downtime between all the pavement pounding this schedule will require might be a good idea. I bought a new pair of walking shoes especially.”
“Yeah, but Disneyland, Paris?” He sounded thoroughly unconvinced.
She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “I know it sounds silly, frivolous, I guess, but I’ve never been. Not to Disneyland here and not at home and I would like to go just once, and it would be nice to go with someone else and I thought you might like to come too?”
I thought it unlikely you’d ever visited a Disneyland either.
He scratched the back of his head. “It’s just one day, right?”
She nodded vigorously.
“Sure, then, why not?”
“You can put it down as research, ready for when you have to take Sophie in a few years time,” she opined.
He laughed softly. “You could be right at that.”
“I know I am. Every little girl wants to be a fairy princess. Sophie’s going to love the Disney DVDs.” She nodded sagely.
They ate out. The air had cooled down a fraction. Taylor’s street was quiet at that time of night. There was very little traffic, but plenty of pedestrians and several bicycles. Taylor had a good relationship with the management at the small café opposite her apartment. They got the best table, set back a little from the road, by the screen, affording them a little more privacy, but still outdoors. Taylor translated the menu. Ryan was open to trying new foods, but drew the line at raw, pickled herring. They sat and reminisced late into the night, drinking the rest of the bottle of red wine that had accompanied their meal. She was eager to hear his news of the family first hand. Ryan was happy to oblige, and maybe the wine loosened his tongue a little. He had come prepared with images of Sophie saved into his phone, including a short video sequence of walking, not her first steps, but taken not long after, Ryan informed her. Sophie was adorable. Ryan clearly doted on her and it was evident that he spent a lot of time around the little girl. Taylor could tell that he was going to make a wonderful father.
There was a moment’s awkwardness, when they re-entered her apartment and sleeping arrangements needed mentioning. She took a deep breath and said, “I’ve put out some bed linens. The sofa’s really comfortable.” She grimaced slightly. It wasn’t what she wanted, but if they resumed their physical relationship, she wasn’t sure that she’d be able to let him go again.
Ever the gentleman, Ryan had murmured, “The sofa will be fine, thanks.”
Taylor tossed and turned in her bed. She was hyperaware of Ryan’s presence in the next room, the remembrance of being with him filled up every corner of her mind. Her senses seemed heightened. She thought she could hear the sheets in the other room rustle across his body when he moved. Her imagination went into overdrive. The images that she conjured up so effortlessly didn’t help and in their wake, came memories of their bodies entwined, moving slick against each other. Her skin itched, despite the smooth silk of her night attire. She squinted at the clock. It showed the time as 2am. Her eyes felt gritty, her throat parched. Sighing, she got up, intent on getting a glass of water. Her resolve wasn’t working. She couldn’t spend two weeks like this, without any sleep. She would go nuts.
She opened the bedroom door as softly as she could. However, the wood was old and the temperature warm and it creaked a protest. She froze. Ryan’s eyes found hers through the gloom. She made out his hand pillowing his head. She heard him inhale softly. She blushed. She hadn’t thought to put on a robe.
“I was getting a drink. Can’t you sleep?” she asked.
“No, strange room, I guess,” he offered, lied, she suspected. He had been exhausted when they had turned in.
“This isn’t going to work out is it?” she asked ruefully.
He sat up. “D’you want me to move out? Get an hotel?” he asked, immediately understanding what she’d left unsaid. “We can still meet up and visit together.”
“No!” she exclaimed, then repeated more softly, “No, that’s not what I want.”
She went across and opened the fridge, reveling for a moment in the blast of cool air which escaped on opening it. The waft of breeze felt wonderful on she hyper sensitized skin. She closed her eyes for a moment, then got back on track. She took out the Vittel and poured a glass for herself and one for Ryan and brought it over to him. She hesitated, then sat deliberately down on the edge of the sofa beside him. He shifted to accommodate her, to avoid contact. She leaned in. He sat up slightly, giving her an excellent view of his taut muscles. They sipped at the water in silence. She put a hand up to his face and caressed it gently.
“Come to bed,” she murmured.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
She could see the uncertainty in his eyes, but she thought there was a spark of hope there too. However the ‘new Taylor’ knew it wasn’t all about her.
“I’m certain,” she responded. “But only if it’s what you want as well.”
He shook his head slightly, but not in negation. He smiled broadly, then cupped her neck with his head and leaned in to kiss her long and sweet and hard.
Later, she lying beside him again, she knew that they’d made the correct choice. Of course, there would be repercussions later when the inevitable happened and they had to part. She knew that she would be sad. All the reasons that had stopped them from continuing a relationship beyond friendship last year were still there. But she couldn’t deny either of them this time together. It felt too right. Sometimes, ‘ seize the day and to hell with the consequences’ was the correct thing to do.
The two weeks vacation time flew by, almost in a blur, days and nights merging together in a happy, roller coaster of sights, sounds and experiences - inside the apartment as well as out. Taylor got excellent use out of her new shoes. On the plane going back to Los Angeles, she finally had time to slow down and contemplate. The success of Ryan’s visit had exceeded all her expectations. Every place, they’d visited, she felt like she’d experienced anew through Ryan’s eyes, the calm of Sacré Coeur, the wonder at the hall of mirrors in Versailles, the awe in the presence of the stained glass windows at Châtres. She’d even managed to persuade him to ascend La Tour Eiffel, promising that he’d get over the vertigo if he cold just focus on the view outwards rather than looking down. He’d had to take several deep breaths and psyche himself up. His knuckles turned white as he’d held onto her hand, but he’d managed it. Disneyland had been magical. For a few hours, the years had rolled back and she’d felt like a kid in a candy store. Ryan had indulged her wish to kick back and she thought that he’d had fun too.
They had a camera full of photos and Ryan had surprised her by producing a sketch book during their first outing. He drew buildings with precise strokes, producing an image with a sure, practised skill. But he also took the time to sketch Taylor more than once which pleased her. She loved to see herself through his eyes. There was such affection for her in each sketch. He erased her imperfections and always drew her smiling.
They’d managed to reclaim their friendship and she was glad. As to resuming their romantic relationship, with the benefit of hindsight, she recognized that facet had been inevitable from her first tentative invitation to Ryan to come and spend some time with her. She found him too damn irresistible for any other outcome. One of the questions her therapist had asked her fairly early on was whether she’d been in love with Ryan or with Ryan’s family. Taylor had explained the complexity of Ryan’s familial relationships as clearly as she could, and the therapist had clarified her definition of Ryan’s family to mean the Cohens. Taylor hadn’t answered at the time, but had thought on this a lot in the subsequent months. She’d remembered how Kirsten had gone with her when she’d needed to tell her mother about Henri-Michael and how she’d sat with Taylor in the hospital, exhibiting a lot more concern for Taylor’s well being than her mom had given during her flying visit. She thought how kind and welcoming Sandy always was. She couldn’t deny that she was attracted to the warmth of Ryan’s family, that she’d like to be a part of it. After the previous two weeks, however, Taylor was now absolutely sure that, lovely as his family was, she was attracted, first and foremost to Ryan.
She knew that she had his friendship forever and for that she was grateful - what she didn’t have was any closure on their romantic relationship. They hadn’t made any new promises. The 'l' word had remained firmly unspoken. No awkward genies had been let out of their bottles. They hadn’t indulged in any long, meaningful conversations. That was rarely Ryan’s style and Taylor had wanted to go with the flow, and avoid spoiling the fun that they’d undoubtedly been having. She’d gone into this with her eyes wide open.
She gave a mental shrug. It wasn’t over. She was going to be in California for the next two weeks herself. It wasn’t practical or sensible to brood yet. She looked across at Ryan, felt his hand in hers and smiled in anticipation.
Author: fredsmith518
Beta: none, errors all mine as ever
Rating: teen
Disclaimer: Nothing owned, no monetary profit made.
Summary: So, like I said I thought, to relax, I’d write a few drabbles on Ryan and Taylor’s relationship.
This is the second one, approaching 3,300 words.
Taylor and Ryan do not co-operate with my plans…the attraction is too strong.
Oh, and thanks to kazfloyd for jump starting the muse for this part of the story.
Paris, summer 2008
Taylor waited nervously at aéroport Charles de Gaulle for Ryan’s plane to arrive. She’d researched carefully for the best flight, so that he’d have the best chance to avoid jet lag. She was far too early - she knew that - but hadn’t wanted to take the slightest chance that she’d miss him. She wanted everything to be perfect. Nine months of therapy hadn’t beaten that trait. A slight pout formed. Now, she was just being silly. Why shouldn’t she have taken the time to look nice for him? Her hair shone, think and glossy down past her shoulders. After much thought, she’d settled on wearing a plain t.shirt and jeans as practical, in case his flight should be delayed and she be stuck at the airport for however long. She’d been pacing for the last half hour, unable to settle in a chair, although she’d tried. Flipping through a Paris Match hadn’t helped distract her either. She desperately wanted another expresso, but managed to damp down the craving - she was already jittery enough from the two previous cups. Periodically, she checked the arrival board, her watch and scanned the crowd, craning her neck to get her first glance of him, hopefully before he saw her.
She needed this reunion to go well. She hadn’t been at all sure that he’d accept her invitation to come visit her in Paris. Although, she’d parted with Ryan on good terms, the previous summer - the best terms even, she thought wistfully of the time spent together in the sleeper car - they’d made no commitment to each other. It hadn’t been reasonable to expect of either of them to make promises of fidelity when they were going to be on separate continents for the next few years at least. Once the idea to invite him had taken root however, she hadn’t been able to let go of it. For one thing, she knew it would be a useful field trip of sorts for his course and for another, although Ryan had had girlfriends since starting at Berkeley, she also knew that he was single at present. A faint smile played on her lips at that thought. She was single herself. Stop that! she admonished, Just friends, she thought firmly that’s what you said to him when you asked if he wanted to come. No strings, no expectations..
Taylor hadn’t had a boyfriend since Ryan. She’d made a conscious choice to do things differently at the Sorbonne this time. She’d concentrated on her studies and making friends. It had gone surprisingly well, considering how hard she’d found forming friendships in the past. In part, she owed Summer, Seth and, of course, Ryan for her new found skills, and most particularly for the self belief, that people would want her for a friend. Over time, she’d found a good circle of friends, male and female, and felt more accepted for who she was than at any previous time in her life. She’d learned to talk less and listen more - a skill she hoped to demonstrate to Ryan. Part of this new, healthier attitude was also down to her therapist. Taylor’s mother had sent her to see several therapists over the years, and they had done her no good whatsoever. The last therapist she'd seen in Newport - over Ryan - had been some help, but Taylor herself hadn't been ready to make the necessary changes in her life. This time it was different. She was ready and seeing a French therapist, discussing her problems in a different language, notwithstanding how fluent she was helped. Somehow, it set her at one remove and helped her to be more analytic about the thought patterns and behaviors that gave her problems.
It helped that she’d pretty much gotten to the place where she recognized that she was always going to be a disappointment to her mother, whatever she did, before she’d left Newport. Her therapist was helping her learn to relax, to be herself, not a projection of her mother’s ambition as had all too often been the case before, when she’d formed liaisons at her mother’s insistence because of what they could get her, rather than from true desire to be close to those people. Her relationships with the men in her life had also become unbalanced. She’d been so desperate to be accepted. In Paris, she hadn’t wanted to throw herself into another romantic relationship until she felt comfortable again in her own skin. She had not made such stellar choices in the past. That business with Dean Hess was just creepy. Put together with the Henri Michael debacle, she realized that she’d developed a ‘thing’ for older men. Any idiot could work out why.
Ryan had been a breath of fresh air so to speak. But she hadn’t been ready for a grown up relationship. At her heart, she’d still be searching for someone to look after her. Now, she wanted Ryan to see the changes she’d made, to recognize the progress gained towards standing on her own two feet. And there he was!
Her face lit up when she saw him coming towards her. All restraint was cast aside and she flung herself into his arms. He dropped his bags and swung her up and around, laughing.
“Hey! It’s so good to see you.” He set her on her feet and looked her over. “You look great.”
“You too,” she responded. He’d felt great too, warm and solid and familiar. The attraction she still felt for him was painfully obvious.
“So, how was your flight?” she asked in an attempt to turn her thoughts away from her increasingly fervent response to his presence.
“Long,” he replied laconically.
She loved his voice. It was so warm. She hadn’t been at all homesick, but it sure was nice to hear a familiar accent. No, it was specifically good to hear his accent. Now that he was there before her, it hit her strongly how much she’d missed him. She beamed at him.
“Come on, let’s go. I can’t wait to show you Paris. I’ve worked out a schedule of where we’ll go and what we’ll do, but we can change it if you want.”
“I’m sure it’s great.”
She loved the way his eyes lit up when he smiled.
“Shall we go?” She gestured vaguely towards the exit and the shuttle buses beyond. Another thought struck her. “Or would you rather stop and have something to eat or drink here?”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Here, or is there another choice?”
“A pavement café?
He grinned. “The full on Paris experience?”
“Absolutely.”
“Bring it on.”
“There’s one just by my apartment. The food’s great. I eat out entirely too often.”
She caught him running his eye appreciatively over her figure.
“Doesn’t seem to be doing you any harm,” he commented grinning.
She couldn't help smiling back in the face of his open admiration. The anxiety that she’d felt while waiting for him to arrive had completely gone. She felt relaxed and happy, carefree almost. She snuck a look at him, trying to gauge his level of comfort as they made their way out of the terminal to the shuttle bus. He seemed pretty relaxed too. He looked tanned and fit. She could see his interest as he took in the bustling scene around them. However, by the time they made it back into the city, he was flagging, a combination of the heat and the long journey, Taylor figured.
“How about we take a rain check on the café and go up to my apartment?” she suggested as they got off at the métro station nearest to her home. “We can come back out for something to eat later this evening when it’s cooled down some.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Ryan agreed readily.
He was still trying to take in every detail, craning his neck to look up each alleyway, admiring the stonework on the older buildings. At this rate, he’d overload his brain and spend the two weeks’ vacation permanently exhausted. She hurried him on.
“This is great.” Ryan commented after she let him into her small flat, having climbed the three flights of winding stairs. Ryan set down his luggage.
“I’m pleased with it,” she admitted. There wasn’t much of a view, but there was a tree outside and a café opposite and there were always people passing by in the street below. “I’ll give you the grand tour,” she laughed. “This is the living room, kitchenette over there.” She lead him over to the minuscule bathroom, well, more accurately shower room. He peered around the door. You would be hard pressed to fit two adults in there at once.
“Cosy,” he commented succinctly.
She nodded and edged out past him. Despite her best endeavors, they touched. She felt a familiar frisson of excitement. She ducked her head. “The bedroom’s over here.”
The bedroom was tiny too, dominated by the double bed. It was necessary to edge around to open the closet and set of drawers.
“Do you want to take a shower?” she offered belatedly.
“Hell, yes!” he responded with feeling.
She handed him a towel from the pile of linens that she’d set out ready for his use on the sofa. She tried very hard not to fixate on the sound of the shower and the thought of him under it… and failed miserably.
When he reappeared, smelling of her body wash and shampoo, she needed a distraction and quickly. She retrieved the schedule that she’d put together and showed it to him. He pursued it seriously, nodding as he scanned down the paper. She loved the furrow in his brow when he was thinking hard about something. The schedule was very much as they’d planned by email. Taylor had gotten Ryan to tell her all the places he most wanted to visit. She saw him make a double take near the end of her list. She’d expected that.
“Taylor?” he queried, pointing to the out of place venue. “I don’t remember this being mentioned.”
She smiled sweetly. “Well, no, granted, but I figured a little downtime between all the pavement pounding this schedule will require might be a good idea. I bought a new pair of walking shoes especially.”
“Yeah, but Disneyland, Paris?” He sounded thoroughly unconvinced.
She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “I know it sounds silly, frivolous, I guess, but I’ve never been. Not to Disneyland here and not at home and I would like to go just once, and it would be nice to go with someone else and I thought you might like to come too?”
I thought it unlikely you’d ever visited a Disneyland either.
He scratched the back of his head. “It’s just one day, right?”
She nodded vigorously.
“Sure, then, why not?”
“You can put it down as research, ready for when you have to take Sophie in a few years time,” she opined.
He laughed softly. “You could be right at that.”
“I know I am. Every little girl wants to be a fairy princess. Sophie’s going to love the Disney DVDs.” She nodded sagely.
They ate out. The air had cooled down a fraction. Taylor’s street was quiet at that time of night. There was very little traffic, but plenty of pedestrians and several bicycles. Taylor had a good relationship with the management at the small café opposite her apartment. They got the best table, set back a little from the road, by the screen, affording them a little more privacy, but still outdoors. Taylor translated the menu. Ryan was open to trying new foods, but drew the line at raw, pickled herring. They sat and reminisced late into the night, drinking the rest of the bottle of red wine that had accompanied their meal. She was eager to hear his news of the family first hand. Ryan was happy to oblige, and maybe the wine loosened his tongue a little. He had come prepared with images of Sophie saved into his phone, including a short video sequence of walking, not her first steps, but taken not long after, Ryan informed her. Sophie was adorable. Ryan clearly doted on her and it was evident that he spent a lot of time around the little girl. Taylor could tell that he was going to make a wonderful father.
There was a moment’s awkwardness, when they re-entered her apartment and sleeping arrangements needed mentioning. She took a deep breath and said, “I’ve put out some bed linens. The sofa’s really comfortable.” She grimaced slightly. It wasn’t what she wanted, but if they resumed their physical relationship, she wasn’t sure that she’d be able to let him go again.
Ever the gentleman, Ryan had murmured, “The sofa will be fine, thanks.”
Taylor tossed and turned in her bed. She was hyperaware of Ryan’s presence in the next room, the remembrance of being with him filled up every corner of her mind. Her senses seemed heightened. She thought she could hear the sheets in the other room rustle across his body when he moved. Her imagination went into overdrive. The images that she conjured up so effortlessly didn’t help and in their wake, came memories of their bodies entwined, moving slick against each other. Her skin itched, despite the smooth silk of her night attire. She squinted at the clock. It showed the time as 2am. Her eyes felt gritty, her throat parched. Sighing, she got up, intent on getting a glass of water. Her resolve wasn’t working. She couldn’t spend two weeks like this, without any sleep. She would go nuts.
She opened the bedroom door as softly as she could. However, the wood was old and the temperature warm and it creaked a protest. She froze. Ryan’s eyes found hers through the gloom. She made out his hand pillowing his head. She heard him inhale softly. She blushed. She hadn’t thought to put on a robe.
“I was getting a drink. Can’t you sleep?” she asked.
“No, strange room, I guess,” he offered, lied, she suspected. He had been exhausted when they had turned in.
“This isn’t going to work out is it?” she asked ruefully.
He sat up. “D’you want me to move out? Get an hotel?” he asked, immediately understanding what she’d left unsaid. “We can still meet up and visit together.”
“No!” she exclaimed, then repeated more softly, “No, that’s not what I want.”
She went across and opened the fridge, reveling for a moment in the blast of cool air which escaped on opening it. The waft of breeze felt wonderful on she hyper sensitized skin. She closed her eyes for a moment, then got back on track. She took out the Vittel and poured a glass for herself and one for Ryan and brought it over to him. She hesitated, then sat deliberately down on the edge of the sofa beside him. He shifted to accommodate her, to avoid contact. She leaned in. He sat up slightly, giving her an excellent view of his taut muscles. They sipped at the water in silence. She put a hand up to his face and caressed it gently.
“Come to bed,” she murmured.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
She could see the uncertainty in his eyes, but she thought there was a spark of hope there too. However the ‘new Taylor’ knew it wasn’t all about her.
“I’m certain,” she responded. “But only if it’s what you want as well.”
He shook his head slightly, but not in negation. He smiled broadly, then cupped her neck with his head and leaned in to kiss her long and sweet and hard.
Later, she lying beside him again, she knew that they’d made the correct choice. Of course, there would be repercussions later when the inevitable happened and they had to part. She knew that she would be sad. All the reasons that had stopped them from continuing a relationship beyond friendship last year were still there. But she couldn’t deny either of them this time together. It felt too right. Sometimes, ‘ seize the day and to hell with the consequences’ was the correct thing to do.
The two weeks vacation time flew by, almost in a blur, days and nights merging together in a happy, roller coaster of sights, sounds and experiences - inside the apartment as well as out. Taylor got excellent use out of her new shoes. On the plane going back to Los Angeles, she finally had time to slow down and contemplate. The success of Ryan’s visit had exceeded all her expectations. Every place, they’d visited, she felt like she’d experienced anew through Ryan’s eyes, the calm of Sacré Coeur, the wonder at the hall of mirrors in Versailles, the awe in the presence of the stained glass windows at Châtres. She’d even managed to persuade him to ascend La Tour Eiffel, promising that he’d get over the vertigo if he cold just focus on the view outwards rather than looking down. He’d had to take several deep breaths and psyche himself up. His knuckles turned white as he’d held onto her hand, but he’d managed it. Disneyland had been magical. For a few hours, the years had rolled back and she’d felt like a kid in a candy store. Ryan had indulged her wish to kick back and she thought that he’d had fun too.
They had a camera full of photos and Ryan had surprised her by producing a sketch book during their first outing. He drew buildings with precise strokes, producing an image with a sure, practised skill. But he also took the time to sketch Taylor more than once which pleased her. She loved to see herself through his eyes. There was such affection for her in each sketch. He erased her imperfections and always drew her smiling.
They’d managed to reclaim their friendship and she was glad. As to resuming their romantic relationship, with the benefit of hindsight, she recognized that facet had been inevitable from her first tentative invitation to Ryan to come and spend some time with her. She found him too damn irresistible for any other outcome. One of the questions her therapist had asked her fairly early on was whether she’d been in love with Ryan or with Ryan’s family. Taylor had explained the complexity of Ryan’s familial relationships as clearly as she could, and the therapist had clarified her definition of Ryan’s family to mean the Cohens. Taylor hadn’t answered at the time, but had thought on this a lot in the subsequent months. She’d remembered how Kirsten had gone with her when she’d needed to tell her mother about Henri-Michael and how she’d sat with Taylor in the hospital, exhibiting a lot more concern for Taylor’s well being than her mom had given during her flying visit. She thought how kind and welcoming Sandy always was. She couldn’t deny that she was attracted to the warmth of Ryan’s family, that she’d like to be a part of it. After the previous two weeks, however, Taylor was now absolutely sure that, lovely as his family was, she was attracted, first and foremost to Ryan.
She knew that she had his friendship forever and for that she was grateful - what she didn’t have was any closure on their romantic relationship. They hadn’t made any new promises. The 'l' word had remained firmly unspoken. No awkward genies had been let out of their bottles. They hadn’t indulged in any long, meaningful conversations. That was rarely Ryan’s style and Taylor had wanted to go with the flow, and avoid spoiling the fun that they’d undoubtedly been having. She’d gone into this with her eyes wide open.
She gave a mental shrug. It wasn’t over. She was going to be in California for the next two weeks herself. It wasn’t practical or sensible to brood yet. She looked across at Ryan, felt his hand in hers and smiled in anticipation.