“Taylor, can we maybe, I don’t know, go for a drive or something? I just need to get away for a bit to clear my head.” He paused for a moment before he said, “Today is kind of a rough day for me.”

He saw the moment that understanding dawned.

“Of course,” she said with an emphatic nod. “Let me change into something warmer.”

She went over to the chest of drawers and grabbed a dark blue sweatshirt from the second drawer from the top and pulled it over the plain white T-shirt she wore. When she turned around, Jamar frowned at the letters across the front.

“Navy?”

She stretched out the hem, looking down at the shirt. “I bought it to piss off my dad.” She hunched her shoulders again. “I can be a bit of an asshole.”

She grabbed one of those ties she used for her hair and pulled her braids together, securing them at the base of her neck.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said. She took him by the hand as she led the way out of the bedroom. “We can take a tour of Fayetteville. It’s a pretty cool town with interesting architecture, if you’re into that kind of stuff.”

He was into anything that included her, especially on a day like today.

As was the case on this day for the past eight years, his first thought when he woke up this morning was that call from Drea, asking him to get to the hospital. He selfishly wanted—no, he needed—Taylor to help take his mind off those horrible memories.

“Have you had breakfast?” she asked over her shoulder as they made their way downstairs.

“I’m not really hungry,” Jamar answered.

Once in the kitchen, she went straight to the walk-in pantry and came out with two squares of aluminum foil. She piled scrambled eggs and bacon inside two biscuits before wrapping them in foil; then she grabbed two bottles of orange juice from the refrigerator.

“I’m going to show Jamar around town,” she called to her mother.

“Make sure you’re back in time for our pre-party toast,” her mother said. “We’re doing a private one here at the house first.”

The front door opened, and Darwin walked in. Taylor took Jamar by the hand and exited through the side door just off the kitchen.

“I’m not up for a fight,” she said, handing him one of the biscuit sandwiches and a bottle of juice. “You may get hungry later,” she explained.

Taylor handled driving duties since she knew the area better than he did. She unwrapped her biscuit and placed it on her lap, eating with one hand while steering with the other.

Jamar appreciated the quiet. He appreciated her innate understanding that meaningless chatter would do him no good right now. He needed to just exist for a moment. To come to terms with what today signified.