Crazy in Love

by S. L. Scott

  “More than, but I need nourishment if you intend to wear me out like that on a regular basis.” When he turns his attention back to the food he’s cooking, I brace myself as the words regular basis sound like he’s moving in. I know he’s not. He lives in California. That’s his home. But I’m not used to someone speaking so carefree after one night. Two, if we count Catalina, and we always do.

  Let it go, Tatum. It’s not a proposal but just an innocent turn of the words.

  I let that phrase take up space in my subconscious and focus on the here, the now, and that glorious ass of his. Oh, good Lord. That ass . . . I grin, remembering how incredible he looks naked. Not that the briefs leave much to the imagination.

  Releasing a deep breath, I realize my body is loose and tired like after a really great workout. I’ve not felt this carefree and relaxed in a long time. “So what you’re saying is we eat and then return to the bedroom to finish our meal?” I thumb over my shoulder, not worried one bit when the top of my robe slips open.

  His gaze plunges from my eyes to my chest, and he has no shame in staring, taking full advantage of the situation. I could close it again and tighten the belt, but what’s the point? I like the way he looks at me like it’s the first time all over again.

  He chuckles, pulling the pan to a different burner and turning off the stove. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, baby.”

  Baby sounded different in the heat of the moment than in broad daylight. Am I a cute nickname kind of girlfriend?

  Girlfriend? Clearly, having sex for the first time in forever has scrambled my thoughts and better judgment. He says, “I’m going to feed you first, and then I’m going to ravage your body for the rest of the day.” Two plates are on the island, and he puts scrambled eggs and bacon on each, right next to the sliced tomatoes.

  “Where’d you get the plates?”

  “The cabinet over by the fridge.”

  “Huh?” I don’t think I’ve ever used them. Maybe once, but it’s been longer than I can remember.

  Looking up with a plate in each hand, he asks, “What do you mean?”

  I shrug. “I don’t cook.” Suddenly feeling self-conscious, I add, “Much.”

  No judgment crosses his expression, but a smile does. “I eat out a lot because of my job, taking clients out and that kind of thing, but there’s something different about a home-cooked meal that has my heart.”

  Is he dropping hints for me, or is this just casual conversation? “From what I remember, you like scrambled eggs.”

  “I do.” I move into the kitchen and take a plate from him. “Thank you. Do you know where the silverware is by chance?”

  “For real?”

  Laughing, I pass behind him and smack his hard ass. “No, I do know where that is.” I pull open the drawer and hand him a fork.

  “You had me worried.”

  “No need. I know where the basics live, or at least, what I use.” I hip check the drawer. “Want to eat in here or in bed?”

  He starts for the bedroom. “Bedroom’s good.”

  “I have to agree.” All the more so when he’s in there with me. Wait . . . what? My heart starts racing, and my feet stop just as he disappears inside the room. No. This is not going to become a regular thing. I’m a layover at best for him, someone to hook up with while he’s in the city, and then what? He goes home. Oh my God. I didn’t even ask him if he has a girlfriend.

  The lighthearted feeling disappears as I head down the hall a little slower, more hesitant, cautious this time. What am I doing?

  Harrison steps out into the hall sans plate. “What are you doing?”

  “I was just asking myself that same question.”

  “I had a feeling, but maybe we can hold off on the doubts and questioning what happened last night until after we eat. We’ll have clearer heads on full stomachs,” he says.

  “Keep it light.” I can’t. I know I can’t. I ruin everything by asking too much and too many questions.

  “Probably best, for now.” He signals into the bedroom before he turns to go.

  I follow him in. He sits on the same side of the bed he slept on, leaving room for me. Actually, leaving me most of the bed and the middle for me. I can’t say it upsets me. It’s quite sweet. I go to the other side and climb onto the mattress while balancing my plate in hand.

  Leaning against the headboard, I cross my ankles and take a bite. Doing anything I can to pretend to be as happy as I was five minutes ago. “Thank you for cooking for me.” Yikes, that sounded so formal.

  “My pleasure.”

  Half his plate is already emptied when I’ve only taken a few bites, my appetite waning. “Would you like mine?”

  “You don’t like it?”

  I glance at his plate and back up at him. “I do, but you look hungry.”

  “Thanks, but this will hold me.” His laughter fills the space. What he said wasn’t a joke, but it’s funny that he cracks himself up. I can only imagine what’s going on in his head.

  After pushing my food around on the plate, I ask, “What are your plans for the day?”

  “Not sure.”

  “Are you going to see your girlfriend?” I accuse, the words bursting from my mouth like a bad case of food poisoning.

  “What? What girlfriend?” His plate is discarded to the nightstand, and he stares at me like I grew a third eye. “What are you talking about?”

  “You were right. We don’t know anything about each other.” Throwing my hand in the air, I angle it toward the door. “You could have a girlfriend back in California for all I know.” I shrug. “How would I know? How would she know that you just slept with me? God, I hate cheaters.”

  Grabbing hold of my hand, he brings it between us, still holding it in his. “Slow down, Tatum.” When the anger I spun up inside like a hurricane begins to lessen, he says, “I don’t have a girlfriend. Not in California or anywhere else. I’m single. What I told you last night is the truth. I haven’t been with a woman in five months or more. I haven’t been serious about anyone in over four years. So I don’t know where this train of thought came from, but you can ask me anything, and I’ll tell you the truth.”

  My heart is racing again but for different reasons—him—and his honesty. “I’m sorry.”

  He looks down at our clasped hands, and asks, “Don’t you think Natalie would have told you if I had a girlfriend?”

  “Stop being logical. My mind went into a momentary tailspin.” When his gaze meets mine, I add, “I’m not always loveable. Being burned time and time again does that to someone.”

  “I’m sorry you’ve experienced that, but I’m not looking to burn you. Last night was good, don’t you think?” He pulls my hand to his mouth and kisses it.

  The feel of his lips against my head brings a sense of security, safety found in the truth of his words. Temporary. I have to remind myself not to get invested. “It was, but—”

  “Let’s save the buts for another day.” Lying back, he rests his head against the headboard while still holding my hand.

  Why can’t I enjoy what this is in the moment instead of worrying about what’s next when it comes to us? The past might be the best indicator. I silence my fears instead of voicing them, willing to try anything to live in the right here and now like him.

  I lie next to him at first but eventually move in and cuddle. His arm wraps around me, holding me close, and then he kisses my head. It’s easy to lose track of time with him.

  Not sure what time of day it is, I glance at my clock on the nightstand. 10:15.

  “Oh, shit.” I jump up, scrambling to my feet. “I have brunch with my mother today.”

  “What time?”

  “Eleven thirty, but it’s a cab ride back to the Upper East Side.” I cut across the room to my main walk-in closet. “She gives me the hardest time if I’m even a minute late or have a hair out of place.”

  “How will it go after yesterday?” Harrison asks.

  “It will be fine. We�
��ll talk about what happened at dinner last night in passing, and she’ll move on. Nothing new. I’ll be fine. I’m used to it.”

  “That doesn’t sound healthy.”

  “Healthy,” I say, laughing humorlessly. I come out with a dress and my undergarments. “It’s sweet that you think it should be. Every family has its difficulties, Harrison. I’m sure my family’s no different.”

  I think of Natalie. Her parents were there for me when mine were away for business or pleasure, sitting in the front row for us when we graduated and planning parties to celebrate our big days—sweet sixteen, high school graduation, and then a big dinner at one of our favorite restaurants after we graduated college. It took months to coordinate and make happen after we walked across that stage, mainly because it was hard to pin my parents down for a date. Yet they could turn up for my best friend’s anniversary party at the last minute. Makes me wonder if that was only because Martine and John St. James were attending since they’re best friends. A fly-in, fly-out visit to New York to see their friends sounds reasonable.

  If only they’d do the same for their daughter.

  “My family can be so annoying. I’m lost in the middle of this pack of kids. It’s loud at the dinner table. Forget about being heard. The schedule conflicts—my sister’s ballet, baseball games, missed plays, and award banquets. Hell, they forgot to pick me up after the regional championship one time. Simply slipped their minds because my brother had been in a car accident.” He watches me pick out my jewelry. “Don’t worry. It wasn’t serious other than he took my dad’s new Porsche out for a joyride and got into a fender bender.”

  “What happened to you?”

  “They remembered around eleven that night when they did their nightly round of goodnights. It took them two hours to get across LA and two hours home. Not one word about my game. It was all about my older brother and that fucking Porsche.” Seeming to catch himself, he chuckles. “Despite how I sound, that stuff doesn’t matter now. I wouldn’t trade my family for anything, not even for the Christiansens. Their family dynamic is great, but there’s something to appreciate about the crazy of your own family. Is that what you’re missing? The crazy? Or the stability. Most fall into one camp or the other.”

  “I’m missing everything. I was raised as a third adult in the house, a friend instead of a kid.”

  He angles his head and then gets up. Walking behind me, he slides his hands around me, and though my instinct is to slip out of his hold, I stay. He kisses my shoulder, his lips lingering, and if I had a say, I’d keep them there forever.

  When I look up, his eyes are filled with a sympathy that makes me squirm, hating that he feels sorry for me. I say, “They’re not bad people. Just preferring to jet set than sit home and raise a daughter. They gave me everything, more than I could ever want or need.”

  “Okay.”

  I don’t look at him. He has no right to judge me when it sounds like his family has problems of their own. “Seriously. I got a custom-painted convertible for my sixteenth birthday and a blank check for each of my graduations. This apartment was for my twenty-fifth birthday.”

  “That’s cool.” His tone is so flat that I tense from the words he’s not saying.

  I head for the bathroom but whip back to face him before I enter. “You know what? I don’t have to justify my situation to anyone, least of all, to a man I barely know, even if he was just inside me. I need to get ready, so you can see yourself out.” I tighten my robe, fisting it closed at the top. “Maybe we’ll see each other around.” Hello, salt. Hello, wound. It’s not so nice to see you again. I hate how my defenses work against me as well. I may win this battle, but I’ll lose him in the war.

  Standing where I left him, he narrows his eyes and shakes his head. “What the fuck just happened? And what do you mean by maybe?”

  “Exactly how it sounds. You’re busy building your business, and I’m busy building my career. Last night was fun, but we knew it was only temporary.”

  “Is that what we’re doing, Tatum? We’re walking away because you got uncomfortable over something that I had nothing to do with?” He clicks his tongue as if disgust covers it and walks toward the end of the bed to grab his pants.

  “I’m just not going to be around today, so I thought you might have other plans as well.”

  With one leg in his pants, he slips his other through the other leg. A humorless chuckle comes before I’m met with a hard glare. He grabs his shirt, punching his arm like he wishes it was a wall. “Fine. Whatever you want. That’s what you’re used to, right? Getting everything you want from blank checks to three-million-dollar apartments? If that’s not love, I don’t know what is,” he spits sarcastically.

  His words smack me, a low blow not to only my heart but also what I thought was changing between us. Causing me to shift in the truth of the discomfort he mentioned, I say, “If that doesn’t say it all, I don’t know what will.” I grab the knob of the door, ready to slam it but stay long enough to say, “Guess I should have seen this ending coming. Nothing changes with you.”

  “You’re right, princess. I’m as steady, loyal, and reliable as they come. Not something you’re used to.”

  I try to crush the metal knob in my hand, but when it doesn’t give, I take a deep breath and shield my heart under a coat of mental armor. “You can see yourself out, and by the way, as a real estate agent in New York, it’s four million in this market.” I shut the door, locking it behind me. Screw him!

  And to think I let him have sex with me without a condom. Ugh. I slam my fists against the door and slide my back down it until my ass hits the marble floor.

  I let him get too close. That was my mistake. Now I’m stuck here waiting for him to leave. I don’t know how long I wait, but I keep pressing my ear to the door, hoping to get some indication of when he’s gone. The last thing I want to do is walk out to find him still here. I don’t need his negativity in my life. I don’t need anything.

  Or anyone.

  I especially don’t need Harrison Decker, which is a shame because he was slowly becoming one of my favorite things. But just like everyone else, he chose to walk away. He chose to leave after I begged him last night to stay.

  He might be right when it comes to me getting my way, but he’s also wrong when it comes to my life.

  I’m used to many things, and one of those things I’m most used to is being alone.

  So much for steady, loyal, and reliable.

  12

  Harrison

  “Tell her to come over here.” I overhear Nick tell Natalie in hushed tones. On the stairs, their voices travel, reaching my ears.

  Natalie huffs. “It’s not that simple. I know her better than anyone. She’ll put on a brave face and pretend it doesn’t matter in front of you. But I know she’s hurting inside.”

  I lean against the wall, not sure what to think or how to feel. I know they’re talking about Tatum but have no idea what’s going on. One of those is a lie I tell myself. I know exactly how I feel. I’m still reeling from that fight that came out of nowhere.

  We were good.

  We were fucking great.

  Then she had to light a match and set us on fire again. After I got back from Tatum’s, I went for a run on the treadmill in the basement to burn through the restless energy I had coursing through me. It’s not the same as running oceanside, but it got the job done. Until now.

  I stop and listen, though I know better than to eavesdrop. There’s just a niggling suspicion inside my chest that something might be seriously wrong.

  Nick says, “She doesn’t have to be guarded with me. I’ve been around long enough to know the truth. And I’ll leave you guys alone. She’s always welcome here no matter what happens.”

  “I appreciate that. It’s just always been her and me against the world and . . . well, then came you and now comes a baby. She’s not showing it, but I can tell she’s now struggling to find her place. That’s why I asked her to be a godparent. I want
her to know she’ll always be a part of our lives.”

  “Honey, you can be there for her, but if she doesn’t want your help—”

  “She does. But if I’m not there, it just proves her point. She’s used to being left alone to deal with things on her own. If I were in her shoes, I’d be wondering if I have a place as well. I don’t want her to wonder. I want her to know she has us.”

  “I’m happy to go with you,” he says.

  “No, it’s fine.”

  Pushing off the wall, I come around the corner. They’re quick to step apart like they’ve been busted by their parents. “At ease, soldiers.”

  Natalie hangs on Nick’s arm. “We weren’t doing anything sexual.”

  Grabbing her, Nick pulls her to his side. “Yet anyway.”

  She shoves him playfully. “No, don’t trap me. I need to go.”

  I stand on the other side of the island and press my palms to the cold stone. “I overheard you talking about Tatum. What’s going on?”

  They exchange a glance, but then she turns to me. “Her mother didn’t show up for brunch, so I was going to meet her at the restaurant.” The same mother who humiliated her daughter and scheduled this brunch as an apology? What the hell?

  Looking at my watch, I ask, “I thought that was more than an hour ago?”

  “It was.” Her tone is solemn as she looks down to put her phone in her bag on the counter.

  My imagination starts to get away from me. I want to be wrong, so I ask, “She’s been there alone this whole time?”

  “Yes.” Natalie swings her bag onto her shoulder and lifts to kiss Nick. “That’s why I’m going to see her.”

  “I’ll go.” They both look at me as if I’m speaking a foreign language—heads tilted, confusion cinching their brows together. “I want to go,” I add as if that will make them understand the guilt I feel for what I said to her this morning. We argued, but I can still be there for her in a time of need.