Unwritten (Kaylor g!p)

Chapter 11

Taylor's POV

It was no big surprise but Manhattan hadn't changed much in my absence. Traffic was as ridiculous as I remembered. That was something that wasn't such a hassle in San Diego. The air in New York reeked of garbage and urine, a perfume I no longer found even remotely appealing. Truthfully I never really had; it was more like it was the smell of freedom to me because I wasn't under my mother's thumb.

It took going to California for me to realize that I wasn't truly free in New York. Sure it was easy to get lost in a city so big. I could have disappeared if I wanted to. More than once I had considered doing just that. I remembered being at Grand Central one afternoon just watching people, trying to figure out where they might be headed, when the thought occurred to me that I could get on a train for anywhere.

A bus to Wyoming or maybe Colorado would have been nice. I closed my eyes and saw myself bundled up in a heavy coat and snow boots, watching snow fall on the side of a mountain. I had warning signs that my escape was looming on the horizon; I just wasn't ready to break away yet.

My cab pulled up to the building I'd lived in for almost four years. It was an older building with fancy doormen posted outside and in the lobby to hail cabs, walk dogs or bring up packages for the mostly wealthy residents. I smiled as I passed them since they all knew me. Our apartment was on the ninth floor.

I rode up in the gold leaf elevator with a highly appropriate muzak version of "Rolling in the Deep" playing softly. I hummed along and stepped out of the car when it stopped. I walked to the left and dug my keys from my purse. We lived in apartment 909.

The key slipped into the lock and turned easily. I let myself inside and closed the door behind me. Harry had already started clearing out my things. I wasn't going to be taking any furniture other than an oversized chair I'd bought that I loved to curl up in with a book or for a nap. Harry hated the chair but it was my favorite piece in the apartment. It spoke volumes about his character that he didn't destroy it after what I'd done.

"You're here." I jumped out of my skin when Harry spoke behind me. I wasn't expecting him to be there. Usually he was at the office.

When I turned around I was even more surprised. Gone was the preppy financial wiz who was always clean shaven without a hair out of place. In his place was this slumped over, frumpy lump with at least a week's worth of beard grown in and hair in desperate need of washing. Jesus, what did I do to him?

"Harry?" I had to ask because it didn't look like him.

"You look good. California agrees with you," he told me. He was being sincere instead of bitter.

Because he's in love with you, Taylor.

I couldn't help myself. My heart got the better of me and I hugged him. Harry had obviously lost weight and he was in desperate need of a shower, but he needed a hug even more. He hugged me back and held onto me like a drowning man would grab onto a buoy.

"Come home, Taylor," he whispered into my ear.

"I can't, Harry," I replied. I felt horrible for him, truly I did.

But I couldn't go back to him either. New York just wasn't home anymore.

He wasn't home anymore.

"What did I do that was so wrong? What can I do to get you back?" Harry straightened up some, but didn't move away from me.

"Honey, it's not about you," I told him. It was the truth. My decision to leave wasn't about him at all. "I left because... because I don't know me. I only know what I've been told my whole life. It's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong here, I swear."