10. Taylor

"Yawns are contagious to dogs as well as humans." ~ Tim Rhodes

"Have a good day."The flight attendant smiled widely as I deplaned.

"You, too," I replied as a yawn overtook me. The few hours of sleep I'd gotten last night hadn't made up for the three days I hadn't gotten any.

Exhaustion gripped me as I descended the steps and walked across the tarmac to yet another set of steps, but it was mixed with a strange combination of excitement and disappointment. I'd been looking forward to this day for the past eight, nearly nine, months. Actually, more like the past five years.

Today, when I saw my daughter, I could tell her that I wasn't leaving again. No more deployments. As excited as I was to start my new civilian life as a debt-free single mom and attending physician at Valley Memorial E.R., there was a tiny little voice of regret that I had left the hotel room without giving Kyle my actual name and phone number.

When I'd woken up this morning still wrapped in his arms, I freaked out a little. Okay, a lot. I was not a snuggler. Ever. It made me feel…claustrophobic. So, sleeping for hours not only completely at ease but actually feeling safe, secure, and protected with Kyle spooning me while I was curled up in a fetal position sent me into a full-fledged panic.

I'd slipped out from under his embrace and off the bed with the grace and agility of Catherine Zeta-Jones as Gin in the iconic laser room scene from the movie Entrapment. After my feet hit the high-traffic carpet, I continued my stealthiness as I moved through the room, quiet as a church mouse, gathering my things. The only sound I'd made was when I dropped my phone while trying to put it back in my purse. Thankfully, the device's descent to the floor did not stir Kyle from his sleep. My tattooed Homefront crush look-alike did not even twitch. He'd just lain there, sound asleep, looking sexier than any man had a right to look.

Once I'd escaped the room, I was overwhelmed with a sense of euphoria that I'd been able to do so without the dreaded morning after, which I'd never actually experienced since the only other one-night stand I'd had was with my baby daddy, and we'd already been friends for over a decade.

My first inkling of regret occurred when I climbed into the shuttle to take me back to the airport. On the drive, the realization of what I'd done crashed into me like a Mack truck. The pang of contrition had nothing to do with sleeping with a stranger and everything to do with not having any way to find said stranger. I'd thought I'd be able to easily file the night away in the cabinets of my mind, but as I approached the airport, I realized that was not happening.

Fear gripped me as I realized that like the women who hadn't helped Julia Roberts in the fancy shops on Rodeo Drive, I'd made a big mistake. Huge. When the shuttle reached the departure terminal, I asked the driver if he was going back to the hotel. He said he was and asked if I had forgotten something. I was about to say, yes, I had, but my phone alerted me that I had only ten minutes until my flight was boarding.

As badly as I wanted to learn Kyle"s true identity, it was more important to see my daughter as soon as humanly possible.

When I boarded the plane, in a moment of weakness, I texted Kenna a PG version of the night before. She messaged me for more details, and I gave the Cliff Notes of the nocturnal activities, including the fact that we'd called each other Ana and Kyle, and I still didn't know his last name. She sent back about a hundred flame emojis, indicating that was hot, and then assured me that we would find him. I didn't share her optimism.

Forget him, I told myself.

This was a new start to my new life. I needed to mentally put him in a box, lock it, and throw away the key. Occasionally, on stormy nights, I would allow myself to indulge and open the box. I would look back fondly on the night we shared, but it had no relevance to my future.

So why did it feel like it did?

Every step I took in the stream of people heading toward their destinations reminded me of the man I'd just told myself to erase from my memory. I was sore in places I'd never been sore before in the best way possible. Not only was I sore, but my entire body ached for him. Was that possible? If the symptoms I felt last night were comparable to those from a drug, then I would say coming down from that drug would feel like detoxing. Or, I was coming down with the flu.

No, I shook my head. I couldn't get sick or detox from my love overdose. In a week's time, I was going to stand next to Kane as his Best Woman. I needed to be at my best, be present, and show up for my family. For better or worse, Kane, Harper, and now Ruby were my family.

Last night was over. I had to seal it, preserve it, and treasure it for exactly what it was. Not obsess about it to the point of distraction, which was something I'd never done before but feared might be in danger of happening.

I was still battling my internal dialogue when I noticed Kane about fifty yards away. At six foot four, he was easy to pick out of a crowd. As happy as I was to see him, I was even happier to see…

"Peanut!" I shouted the second I saw my baby girl.

Harper's head spun in my direction. As soon as she saw me, everything else in the world disappeared. All I cared about—all I could see—was the ecstatic joy on my baby girl's little round, freckled face as she bolted toward me and catapulted herself into my arms. "Mommy!"

Tears filled my eyes as I held her, hugged her tightly, and spun her around. I sniffed her strawberry-scented hair and luxuriated at the weight of her in my arms. She'd grown up so much in the past nearly nine months I'd been gone.

"I miss you and I love you and I love you and I miss you," I whispered against her head. It was what we said to each other every time we were on the phone.

"I miss you and I love you and I love you and I miss you!" she repeated back to me.

All of the anxiety I'd felt after leaving the hotel room this morning, all of the second-guessing I'd done, disappeared as I held my daughter in my arms. This was what life was about. She was my world, and I was not going to have to miss out on any more long periods of her life. Nothing else mattered.

When her legs started kicking to get down, I set her back on the floor and walked straight toward the woman I'd never met face-to-face but loved dearly. Ruby cared for not only Harper this summer but also Kane and his grandad Otto, who I loved like my own. They were the three most important people in my life, and she'd been there for them when I couldn't.

More tears swelled in my lower lids as I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed her tightly. She hugged me back with the same level of embrace.

"Thank you," I whispered as I continued holding onto her, just hoping she would feel all the gratitude I had stored up for her.

"What am I? Chopped liver?" Kane teased from behind me.

"Yep," I chuckled before sighing dramatically, as if hugging Kane would be a chore. It wasn't.

I wrapped my arms around him and gave him a tight squeeze. He was the man in my life—he had been since we were eighteen. I didn't have any brothers, and after losing my father, I'd never had a man who loved me unconditionally. Kane did.

"How was your flight?" he asked as he took my carry-on from me.

"It was good. I'm glad to be home."

"Alright, you guys ready?" Kane asked, already headed down the corridor.

"Actually, Remi's here," Ruby said as she stared at her phone. "He got an early flight. He's here. He just landed."

Ruby had told me earlier in the week that her brother was coming in tomorrow. I'd heard Kane talk about him so much that I felt like I knew him, even though we'd never met.

"Really?" Kane asked, seeming surprised.

"Yeah," Ruby confirmed.

"I have to go potty!" Harper jumped up and down.

"Let's go." I held out my hand.

Harper took my hand and skipped beside me as we went in search of a bathroom. This was what life was all about. I was home with my daughter. My family. My new home. My new job. My new life.

Kyle was in the past. The sooner I accepted that and put him there, the better off I would be.