Crazy in Love

by S. L. Scott

  From the other end of the table, Camille Devreux barks with laughter until she realizes no one else has joined in. My eyes, like everyone else’s, dart from her back to Tatum, who appears mortified by how she’s shrinking in her chair. I’m not sure how to save her the humiliation, but if I could, I’d take it away completely.

  I do what comes naturally and stretch a leg across the divide under the table until my shoe touches the tip of hers, wishing it was our hands. Staring into the eyes that remind me of the Catalina cliffs at sunset, I try hard to decipher what’s going on in her head. The strength I hoped to give her can’t compete with the plea shaping her expression.

  The uncomfortable silence grows until Natalie reaches across her mother’s place setting without a second thought and takes Tatum’s hand in hers. “There’s no pressure, but we want you to know that we trust you and love you.”

  Tatum swallows so hard that I can hear it sitting across from her.

  “I love you, too,” she whispers.

  Nick doesn’t stand, but he does say, “Harrison, Natalie and I would be honored if you’d consider also being our kid’s godparent.”

  “What? Me?” I don’t make a scene like Mrs. Devreux, but I swear I don’t hear him correctly. “You want me to take care of your kid in case of an emergency?”

  “You and Tatum,” Nick says. “Something for you to consider.”

  What the fuck is he thinking? This is insane.

  Tatum scoots her chair back from the table. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  “Would you like me to come with you?” Natalie asks.

  “No. Enjoy the party.”

  As forks clang against china and the low rumble of conversation picks up again, Tatum walks up the steps of the deck and into the house. I look at Nick and then Natalie. “Thank you.” Nick nods once, and I add, “I think I’m going to check on her.”

  I cross the deck and am inside just as the waiters begin bustling around the table again. “Tatum?” I look toward the kitchen and peek into the front room where the bar is stationed. When I don’t find her, I check the downstairs bathroom, which is empty.

  Taking the steps by two, I rush up to the second floor and find her in the nursery. I knock lightly on the door, not wanting to sneak up on her. Tatum whips her head to the side, her arms crossed over her chest, and tears in her eyes. “My mom is right. What would I do with a baby? I can barely take care of my own life.”

  I understand her shock. “Andrew’s the most responsible person I know. Why the fuck would Nick think I’m more suited for the job?” Just inside the door, I add, “But they know us. They know we’d love their baby like it was our own. I’d raise this kid to know everything about Nick, and you’d teach them everything about Natalie while giving them enough love to hopefully fill any voids.”

  She gently swipes under her eyes before the tears fall. “Did you know about this?”

  “No. I didn’t see this godparent thing coming.” I chuckle humorlessly. “I’m not sure what to think, but what I do know is that our best friends trust us with their kids.” When I smile, I feel the honor bestowed upon me mixed with the disbelief of the situation.

  A smile appears, and she sniffles. “Crazy. But what you said . . . that was beautiful, Harrison. If the unthinkable happens, we’d love their kids like our own.”

  “We would.” I move inside and look out the window down at the dinner party below. “You don’t have to say yes. It’s just something for us to consider.”

  She joins my side, resting her head against my arm and staring out the window as well. “My mom laughed at the thought of me taking care of kids.”

  “Sounds like your mom doesn’t know the woman you’ve become.”

  Her arm slips around my back, and I slip mine around her. “Why do you say such thoughtful things when I don’t deserve them?”

  “Who says you don’t? We all have good and bad days. It’s hard to remember the good sometimes, but we shouldn’t hold a bad one against someone for life.”

  “Be careful, Decker, or I might think you have a heart.”

  “Ugh.” I hold my hands over my heart like I was just struck. I chuckle to myself, a low rumble remaining in my chest. “Don’t go telling the ladies, or you’ll give me a bad rep.”

  “Don’t worry. Your bad rep”—she taps my chest—“and your heart are safely intact.” I can feel the lift of her cheek against my muscle.

  The sun has set behind the back neighbors’ townhome, and the string lights draped over the yard are like stars we’re looking down on. There’s enough light from the hall for us to see our surroundings. Even the little luminescent stars outside feed light inside.

  Tatum’s frame fits against mine, and I wish I could make her happy like she was when she arrived. I have no idea about the history between her and her mother, and I’m annoyed her father didn’t bother to stand up for her downstairs, but I don’t for one minute think she deserved the taunt. Natalie knows her extremely well, so if she believes she’s the one she wants long-term in her baby’s life, then everyone else should trust in that confidence as well.

  This woman is good.

  The fact that she’s leaning on me for comfort means she trusts in me. I like her. And given the tips of her fingers are tightening against my side, I’m thinking she feels the same more-than-acquaintances vibe filling the air as I do.

  When I look down at her, she looks up at me, her usually expressive eyes filled with restrained emotions. “You make me feel everything from happy to mad, but you also make me feel safe. I hate that you seem to be the only one who can do that lately,” she whispers.

  “It’s trust. You may not like it. It may feel uncomfortable, but deep down, you know you can trust me.” I turn to face her, wanting to look into the depths of her eyes to find the truth she can’t hide.

  Something heavy settles between us—a tension that isn’t troubling—but makes my heart beat harder against my rib cage. Her chest rises and falls with deeper breaths. The smile I was craving a moment earlier doesn’t come, but a lick of her lips has my locking my gaze on the little teasing.

  When she cups my face, a million thoughts run through my mind—are we going to go down this route again, or is it better to play it safe and stick to being friends? Although I’m pretty sure she’s about to kiss me, I can’t let that happen without telling her the truth. “I went back inside.”

  The grip of her hands softens, and I could kick myself for letting the moment slip away. “I don’t understand.”

  “Thursday night. You said you came back for me. I went back inside the club.”

  “Oh,” she replies, seeming surprised. Her hands lower to her sides, and she takes a step back. When I lose sight of her eyes, and her arms cross over her chest, her walls start to return. “I guess shame on me for thinking that something was building between us.”

  I step closer and tilt her chin up with two fingers. “It was.” Before she can ask the questions populating her mind, I continue, “I went to say goodbye to the guys and thank Kaz for the tickets. I went back in thinking I would have another drink and that would help get you off my mind.”

  “Did it?” Her tone turns harsh, her eyes cold. She jerks her chin away, and asks, “Or did someone?”

  “Alcohol can’t keep you off my mind, and no woman has captured it like you have, Tatum.”

  “See?” she asks through tight lips with aggravation in her tone. “There you go again, Harrison. Why do you do that?” When her hands reach out to push me away, I grab hold and keep them pressed to my chest. “I don’t want to fall for you again. I did that once, and it didn’t end well for me.”

  “You didn’t fall for me. You had a good time one night, but what scares you more, Tatum? That you might fall for me or that you might like it?”

  Her hands stay firm against me. “I don’t understand the difference.”

  “Then give me a chance to show you. We might be good for each other.”

  “We might be bad.”


  I smirk. “We were always bad, but I haven’t lost all hope just yet.”

  She closes the gap, her shoes between mine. “What makes you so confident?”

  “I know a good thing when I see it.”

  “And you see the good in me, Decker?”

  Our breaths begin to mingle when I angle my head and whisper against the shell of her ear, “So much good.”

  “What if . . .?”

  “What if?” I whisper, matching her tone.

  Tilting back just enough to look me in the eyes, she cups my cheeks again. “What if we had another night together. What would you do?”

  “I wouldn’t waste a single second of it.”

  “Then don’t.” Her lips crash into mine, and when I take her in my arms, I won’t let this second chance get away.

  8

  Tatum

  Breaking the rules never felt so good.

  Or maybe that’s Harrison’s lips on mine that feel amazing. God, how I missed this. Him. He makes me feel like he’s been craving me more than the air he needs to breathe. “Harrison,” I say, not sure why I’m even saying it but feel it purr through me again.

  His hands run down my ribs to my hips and then up to my waist as if checking that I’m real. Pulling back, he looks into my eyes, breathing heavily. “What are we doing?”

  “I don’t know.” I run my hands over his jaw, feeling the rough edges of a recent shave. I’m famished for his touch, to feel like nothing else matters and lose myself in the abyss of the bliss he brings my way, even if for just a short time.

  He says, “We should—”

  “I don’t want you to stop.”

  This time when he kisses me, the backs of my thighs hit the windowsill. When my back reaches the glass, he pulls me forward and takes my hand. “My room on the top floor will be better.” We’re fast out the door.

  “I know it well. I’ve been in that bed many times.”

  He comes to an abrupt halt on the stairs. “What?”

  Then it dawns on me how that sounds. “Oh God, no. I meant, I sleep there when I stay the night. I’ve not had . . .” I whisper, “sex or done anything else with someone in that bed other than wearing face masks with Natalie.”

  Confusion digs into his brow but then disappears. “Good enough.”

  We continue rushing up the stairs when I slow, bringing him to a stop this time. He looks back, his hair already a mess and falling over his forehead. My stay-all-day lipstick didn’t live up to its promise, so I reach up and run the pad of my thumb over his lips.

  He kisses it. “Are you okay?”

  “I am.” He’s so handsome with his endearing eyes, that strong, sharp jaw, and the straight bridge of his nose. Why am I stopping this from happening? Why do I torture myself for no reason? Oh right . . . “The party.”

  “Right,” he says with a sigh, his lids dipping closed. Running his hand through his hair, he takes three steps down, giving me the advantage. Releasing my hand, he takes hold of my waist again. “I don’t want to lose this . . . whatever it is between us.”

  His words play my heartstrings like a violin. I suck in a staggered breath as fear creeps in—the thought of being hurt, the unknown, and the disappointment that followed a perfect night in Catalina, and what might have been tonight. I swallow it down, deep inside me, refusing to let it get air.

  Taking a step down, I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him again. It’s not hurried or a goodbye, an end, or a kiss-off. It’s true and full of the feelings that I like better—the good ones that feed my ego and my well-being. “Would you like to come to my place tonight?”

  A wry grin wriggles into place. “Yes.”

  To the point. Much like Harrison Decker. For someone who I’ve overheard being called a shark in business, that’s not what he’s been with me. Not tonight, at least. “Then it’s a date, the kind with benefits.”

  His deep chuckle fills the staircase. “We should get back.”

  “I don’t want to make a spectacle. One’s enough for tonight.” I nod toward the top of the stairs. “And you should probably wipe my lipstick off your mouth.”

  “Probably a good idea.” Rubbing his fingers over his wry grin is something I could watch all night, but I tear my gaze away and start down the steps as he heads in the opposite direction.

  Standing on the landing, I ask, “Harrison?”

  He stops at the top and looks back over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

  “Thanks.”

  It’s not a grandiose reaction, but it doesn’t need to be. A gaze is exchanged, but he doesn’t ask what I’m thanking him for or to explain. He just accepts the offer with mutual understanding.

  I straighten my skirt in the downstairs bathroom and then reapply my lipstick. Grabbing a vodka soda from the bar on my way outside, I catch my mom’s eyes on me first, a sinking feeling dragging the high I was riding down with it. Then I see everyone else looking. Great . . .

  Typically, I’m the one on top of the bar getting attention, but this isn’t the limelight I desire. My mom gets up and meets me as I make my way back to my seat. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, darling.”

  We step off to the side for any bit of privacy we can get. Though my stomach isn’t thrilled we missed the main course, I’m relieved when the other guests are served dessert. The chocolate cake is just the distraction I need to deter their attention away from me. “I don’t know why you’d humiliate me like that, but this is not a conversation we can have right now.”

  “I was taken by surprise.”

  “Imagine how I felt,” I snap. I’m never rude to my mother. Even through my rebellious high school days, I still managed to give my parents the perfect grades they expected. Now I know where I really stand in her eyes.

  “We can meet for brunch tomorrow to have this discussion. Just not here,” I say under my breath.

  She narrows her eyes a little but then agrees. “Brunch at Bistro 55. Eleven thirty.” At that, she leaves and walks back to the table, but I don’t miss the roll of her eyes toward my dad. What was that for?

  I return to my seat just as Harrison sits down across from me. So much for timing. Who really cares? No one, most likely.

  When I look up, I’m met with Harrison’s strength and a smile filled with confidence—not the arrogant kind, but the one he’s willing to share with me. He’s right. I shouldn’t feel embarrassed or ashamed. I turn to Natalie, who gives me the same grin. She trusts me with her child’s life. She sees something in me that I can’t. Maybe it’s time I tried.

  “Try the cake. It’s divine,” Natalie’s mom, Martine, says sweetly.

  “Excellent idea.” Chocolate’s always been a weakness of mine. Taking a bite of the decadence, I close my eyes as the sugar coats my tongue and softly moan in delight. I open my eyes to find Harrison’s glued to me, his lips parted, and if I’m not mistaken, the little chocolate on the side of his lips I wouldn’t mind licking off for him.

  Leaning forward, he whispers, “We can skip dessert . . .” He signals toward the exit just in case I didn’t get his intention by “we can skip dessert.”

  I start laughing but am quick to cover my mouth with the back of my hand. “What kind of maniac skips dessert?”

  It only takes one bite before I sink into the seat to let the sweetness take over. “This cake. It’s orgasmic.”

  “Orgasmic?” Cookie asks. “Well then, I might need another piece to go,” she says, digging her fork in for a second bite. “For later.”

  Nick sighs heavily as he sets his fork back on the table. “No, Mom. I can’t. I know you want to treat Andrew and me as the adults we are, but I just don’t think I can listen to sex talk around you.”

  Natalie starts laughing, then Martine, with many others joining in, almost like the earlier incident never happened. That’s how I like it best.

  When guests begin to leave, and others enjoy an after-dinner digestif, Natalie takes me by the hand and pulls me to a corner of the dinin
g room. “Marcelles opened spots for their next cooking class. I was thinking it could be something we do together,” she says.

  “You don’t want to take it with Nick?”

  “I figured Nick wouldn’t be upset since he’ll benefit from the outcome. But more so, I thought it would be something fun for us to do together that’s not work-related. It will give us a guaranteed weekly date. I miss just spending time with you.”

  She’s right. We haven’t been going out much, and now I know why—the baby. But also, work has picked up year over year. That’s why I need to get to work on this new plan. As for downtime, I may see Natalie almost every day, but I still miss my friend. “I’m really great at ordering food, but maybe I could learn a new skill and cook instead.” I wink.

  “We can cook together, too. Maybe have a regular dinner—”

  “Let’s slow down,” I say, my hands flying up. “At least until after the first class.”

  Holding her stomach, she giggles. “Good idea. I might have good intentions, but no promises it tastes good.”

  “Natalie?”

  Her mom calls her from the entryway. She gives my hand a squeeze. “I need to say goodbye, but I wanted you to know that I’m happy for you and Harrison.”

  “What are you happy about?”

  She holds a finger to her lips. “Don’t worry, I don’t think the others noticed, but Nick and I saw you in the window.”

  My legs hitting the sill, my back to the window. I cringe as a second wave of mortification rolls over me. I swallow. “I’m sorry. He—”

  “Natalie, I’ll call you,” Martine says.

  “I’ll be right there,” she calls back. “It’s okay. I just wanted you to know that I’m glad it seems you’ve made up. Literally.”

  I restrain my laughter, but a giggle comes out. “Thanks for putting it so . . . nicely.”