Loud Silence

Epilogue: Taylor, Meet Jasmine

"Taylor—" she protests, forcing me to cover her eyes with my hands. I lead her over to the sliding door that opens out to a balcony, commanding her to keep her eyes closed as I open the curtains, revealing a view of the city with a glimpse of Lake Michigan.

"Ok, open your eyes." She opens them, staring questionably out at the buildings, her beauty still affecting me in such an erotic way.

"I'm sorry, am I missing something?" she asks me, cheeks slightly flushing pink.

"Do you like this view?" I keep pressing on.

She shrugs, then gives me a confused nod, looking up at me with hypnotizing, round, hazel eyes.

"Would you be sad to live somewhere that wouldn't have this view?" I can sense that she's getting annoyed with my mystery, but I don't mind it at all.

Rolling her eyes, she brings herself to our bed, throwing herself onto it, pulling her legs over so that they're crossed.

"Honestly, Taylor, the view is spectacular, and I'm sure many people would pay money to wake up to it every morning, which I'm sure you do Doctor, but it's really not all that important to me."

I look beyond the balcony, one side filled with buildings of various heights and shapes, the other side with Lake Michigan majestically stretched infinitely, with a line of traffic weaving between the two. At one point, I had thought that living somewhere with a view like this would somehow make me happier, and recently learning that I had chased after the wrong view.

"Taylor Leonard, will you please tell me what is going on?" I can see her face pulling into a worried frown, her eyes filled with concern, and I immediately regret putting her through the anticipation.

Moving closer, I reach into the night stand and reveal a tiny white box wrapped with red ribbons. Time stands still, as she silently stares at it, contemplating whether or not to accept it.

My nerves have caught my words, nor did I want to influence her one way or another with it. Patiently waiting, I wonder what could possibly be going on in her head.

Her arms finally make a move for the box in my hands, gently taking it and placing it in hers, and motioning for me to join next to her.

"I know you said no gifts, but the timing was just right. But remember you are not obligated to anything. You can always say no and we'll pretend that it never happened."

Rarely does my mouth move faster than my brain, as it usually processes and reprocesses before even making it to the tip of my tongue. With Jasmine, the rules of common sense are bent, and sequences of words will pour out involuntarily as fast as it comes to the mind.

"Taylor," she places a hand on my thigh, and I seize up, "whatever it is, I'll love it." Her fingers start to undo the bow, as I imagine undoing the lace in front of her bathing suit. Stop it, Taylor. Focus! The lid is being removed ever so slowly, and my heart is beating outside of these walls.

She's quiet, and although I can rarely read what she is thinking, I see disappointment on her face. Has she figured it out? I haven't even begin to explain.

"I'm confused," she says, expressing it with a cock of her head and furrow of her brows, looking at the key in her hand. "It's a key, but we've already moved in with you."

"But now we can move in together." Even I know that sounds confusing. Ok, just do it Taylor.

"Remember your parents' house? The house with the white picket fence right outside of Chicago?" She looks at me, her eyes growing wide and damp. Oh no.