“Yes,” I said without pause. “I’m retired. I don’t have a damn thing going on, and I’ll be damned if I keep you from living your dream. I promise you, Dakota, I’ll never ask for you to sacrifice another thing for me so long as you live. And where we come from, never is a promise.”
She pulled in a soft sigh and melted into me, and within minutes we were driving under the canopy of shade trees that lead to Mason Ranch Road.
Two Years Later
“We’re really going to miss you, Coco.” The cast and crew of the MBC Morning Show gathered around an enormous cake with “Good luck, Coco!” written on it along with a portrait of my face done in digitized frosting.
“Thanks, everyone.” I wore a painted smile and sad eyes as I looked around the room to the people who’d become like a second family to me over the years. I’d miss them all. Each and every one of them. My hair and makeup gurus. My cue card guy. My assistant. A team of producers and sound and lighting and camera people. The only person missing was Harrison, and he’d played the biggest role in helping me rise to the top. Not long after I moved out of our apartment, he accepted an executive spot at a smaller network in Los Angeles. In a roundabout way, he was fleeing his hometown the way I’d fled mine. “Thank you so much for this. I’m going to miss you all.”
My hairstylist hugged me tight and my assistant handed me a plate with a slice of cake on it that was easily enough for two people.
“Taylor,” I laughed. “I might be eating for two, but one is about the size of a pineapple.”
I placed a hand across my growing belly where Beaumont Junior was growing bigger by the day. It wouldn’t be long before the third trimester travel restriction would be placed on me, and I wanted to have him back home.
“So, you’re leaving us for the hills of Kentucky, eh?” my producer, Barbara, said. “I’ve heard it’s a beautiful state.”
“It’s breathtaking, Barbara. It took me a very long time to appreciate that.” I forked a chunk of cake and welcomed the sugary goodness that flooded my taste buds. “I can pretend I’m a New Yorker all I want, but Kentucky is my home.”
We wrapped up my little retirement party, and I headed uptown to the apartment I shared with my husband. He’d purchased it a couple years back so I could still work in the city.
Beau kept his complaining about New York to a minimum, opting to head out to New Hampshire or Upstate whenever he was feeling too crammed. And on the weekends, we’d head back home to Darlington when we could.
“Hey, Kota,” he said as I walked in the door that afternoon. A team of movers were putting all our things in boxes and hauling them down to a waiting truck. Beau headed over to me, placing his hand on my belly and bending at the knees to leave a single kiss. “Hey, little man.”
“I’m going to miss this place,” I said, glancing over his shoulder at the view of the city. The twinkling of the city at night was like my own personal planetarium. I’d mentioned that to Beau once, but then he reminded me that back home, I’d have the real thing: actual stars I could see and more cloudless night skies than I’d know what to do with.
“You can come back anytime you want,” he said. “Addison and Wilder are here, so we’ll be back all the time, especially when they get sick and tired of globetrotting and decide to make a little cousin for little Junior here.”
“She hates that I’m moving back home,” I laughed, picking up a 5x7 framed photo from our wedding that had yet to be packed. Barefoot in a white country sundress with a crown of baby’s breath in my long wavy hair, it was one of the happiest days of our lives. We married back in Kentucky, under the oak tree by our favorite fishing hole just beyond the ranch. Beau’s family was there as were Mama, Addison, and Wilder. And of course Sam, Rebecca, and Mabry.
“Think she’ll ever move back?”
“No, no, no. Never in a million years. She loves the city even more than me, and Wilder does too.”
***
I stood over the kitchen sink of the Mason ranch, washing out a casserole dish. Our neighbors to the west, the Janssens, had dropped off dinner for us the night we got back into town. A soft breeze floated in and washed over my face, bringing with it the sweet smell of lilacs from the bushes outside.
Beau was outside talking to a man who was going to be dropping off four horses in the coming weekend. We were officially hobby horse breeders, and never in a million years did I think that would be my life.
Gone were my days of stepping into high heels that pinched my feet and cost more than most people earned in a week, and gone were my days of finding my validation in the form of millions of faceless television viewers.