Crazy in Love

by S. L. Scott

  “I don’t want the same thing I had. I don’t want nannies raising our kids. During the day, fine because we have to work, but at night, I want to be there for them.”

  “Our.” Not a question, but just something to chew on. Taking a step back again, she turns away and then walks to the windows. “I guess this is all leading to the conversation I didn’t want to have.” Shadowed in the darkest part of the room, she looks back. I can still see the look of uncertainty in her eyes. “I was waiting to have everything confirmed at the doctor’s office, and you’re already making plans for more.”

  “False positives are rare.”

  “They happen, though, just like someone getting pregnant while on the pill. We’re the exception. It makes me nervous about finding out if we are when it comes to this as well.” Her hand sits on her middle like she might feel something.

  “You should eat,” I say, the heaviness releasing from my chest.

  Returning to the kitchen, she takes the spoon and sips the soup to challenge me. Setting the spoon down again, she says, “We should talk about what happens next.” I don’t know what to say. I want her to lead. I need her to. Not because I can’t, but I don’t want to plant hope where none is allowed to grow.

  She reaches over and takes my hand in hers, studying it. Running the tip of her finger over the veins on top of my hand, and then with her gaze cast down, she says, “I can tell you’re nervous.” When those browns meet my blues, they’re filled with warmth, and comfort is found inside. “Maybe even scared. Is that what you’re feeling, Harrison?”

  I can only bring myself to give the minutest of nods, but it’s enough to encourage her to wrap her arms around me, and confess, “I’m scared, too.”

  Something real we share has me engulfing her in my arms and kissing the top of her head. “I don’t want to fight with you. I just . . .” I know better than to say the words sitting on the tip of my tongue. Words that would put a stake in the game, and if she chose otherwise, would leave me devastated. It might already be too late for that anyway. We’ve only dated for a few weeks, but it took years to get to this stage, and I don’t want to lose her before we have a chance for more.

  She tilts her head up. “You just what?”

  I swallow those words down, choosing different ones based on what’s best for her. “No matter what happens, I’m not leaving you.”

  Her gulp is loud enough to hear, and tears sparkle in her eyes. “Will you go with me to the doctor’s appointment tomorrow?”

  This is big. Huge. Her trust in me was revealed in the form of an invitation. Any other time, she would have asked Natalie.

  This time, she asked me.

  24

  Harrison

  “Harry, I need your help,” my sister says. It sounds like she’s crying, though, which isn’t like her.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, already knowing the answer. Sobs fill the line. “Madison?”

  “The hospital. I need you.”

  The freeway under my tires is too loud to catch everything over my Bluetooth. “Madison, where are you? You’re at the hospital? Cedars?”

  There’s a long pause that has me panicking more than I am already. “Yes, Harry. Hurry . . .”

  “I’m on my way, Maddie.”

  The phone goes dead, and I call my eldest brother, glad Nick caught a ride with Cookie. “Dawson?” I say as soon as the connection is made, trying not to drive like a demon on a mission, though I am.

  “Hey, are you back in town?” His tone is too casual for an emergency. I don’t want to break the news to my entire family, but she called me first, so the job falls on my shoulders.

  “Madison just called me. She’s headed to the hospital.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  I change lanes to pass this fucking slow car driving in the fast lane. “We didn’t get that far, but I’d assume it’s for the baby.”

  “Cedars?”

  “Yes. I just got off the ferry. I’m going straight there.”

  “Why are you the first to tell me if you’re just getting into LA?” Dawson is the most competitive of my brothers, if you take me out of the equation.

  “I don’t know. Call Mom and Dad. I’m calling Jameson.”

  “Okay. Hey, Harrison?”

  I lay on my horn when some idiot cuts me off. “What?”

  “Don’t speed. You getting in an accident won’t help the situation.”

  “Point taken.”

  Following the Decker phone tree protocol, my younger brother, Jameson, doesn’t answer. He might be sleeping in since it’s Sunday. I leave him a message and then try to call Madison back, but she doesn’t answer.

  Dread settles into my bones.

  We’ve been through hell the past few months, my sister most of all, only to have that fucker turn his back on her when she needed him most. While my parents sat in disbelief and disappointment, she had three brothers who not only could take care of the situation with him but would rally around her.

  My mom worried about Madison only being nineteen and that a baby would derail her daughter’s dream of being an entertainment lawyer. I get it. At the time, Maddie was enrolled in college and a straight-A student.

  I worried she wouldn’t live to see twenty.

  Why’d she pick a bad boy? I mean, I know why girls fall for them, but a weed dealer who dabbled in nighttime street racing for bets probably doesn’t share the same long-term goals as my sister.

  As predicted, he was out of the picture as soon as she told him. Things got worse for him when he tossed a few bills in her face and told her to handle it. She decided she would have the baby on her own.

  I run into the ER and head for the nurses’ station. “Harrison?”

  Turning to the side, my mom runs into my arms. I used to be the one rushing into hers. “What happened?”

  “Dodson came around and wanted to talk to Maddie. I knew it was a bad idea.”

  The name of that loser gets me angry. I almost killed him the first time he laid a hand on Madison. If my brother Dawson hadn’t been there . . . I probably wouldn’t be standing here.

  I don’t know what he tells her, but I do know my sister. She’s not weak like the prey he treats her. I highly doubt anything comes with a please when he tells her how it’s going down.

  My mom takes me to the corner of the waiting room and whispers, “I don’t have the details from Madison. All I heard from the nurse is that she was in a car accident and can’t tell me more.”

  “Fuck,” I exhale, looking toward the nurses’ station.

  “I’m glad you’re home,” she says, hugging me.

  Hugging her back, I ask, “Where’s Dad?”

  “Santa Barbara. It will take him hours to get here.” Annoyance colors her tone.

  Mat walks in and looks around. Seeing us, he heads our way. “If you tell me that fucker had anything to do with this . . .”

  “Please put your energy into Maddie’s recovery.” My mom goes quiet, and then adds, “And this sweet baby she’s carrying.” Tears roll down her cheeks, and she sniffles. “I can’t handle thinking about that horrible man. He won’t leave her alone.”

  “Mrs. Decker?” We turn to see a doctor standing nearby looking for my mom.

  “I’m here,” she says, rushing toward him. “How is my daughter?”

  Mat and I stand behind her like two bodyguards flanking her, and my gut twists with concern.

  “Madison’s doing well, but we’re concerned about the baby.”

  Present Day

  Sitting in waiting rooms is the worst. Doesn’t matter if nothing’s wrong, the fear still creeps in, implanting the what-ifs.

  I toss the magazine from 2017 back on the pile and decide pacing will serve me better.

  A corner door opens, and a nurse stands there staring at a chart. When she looks up, she calls, “Mr. Devreux.”

  Tatum’s got a good sense of humor this morning. I hope she can keep it after whatever news we’re given. The n
ame doesn’t bother me. Today, it attaches me to her as more than just the guy who knocked her up. “That’s me.”

  I walk toward her and follow her down the hall. I’m shown to a room to wait by myself. Before I have time to read all about the Heimlich from the poster, a knock draws my attention, and then the door opens. Tatum smiles the second she sees me and hurries into my open arms.

  She says, “We’re pregnant.”

  My arms don’t leave her, and I don’t look down. I stay still in the moment, closing my eyes and releasing a breath that feels long-held.

  Gentle sobs rock her body as she clings to me. I can’t decipher between sadness or happiness from the sound, but I steal a second to savor those two words. I’m not sure what’s going to happen between us, but at this moment, we’re united as one.

  When she releases me, she grabs a tissue from the box on the counter. Wiping under her eyes, she looks at me. “What do you think, Harrison? I need to know what you’re thinking.”

  Yesterday, I had determined she needed to lead. Today, she needs me. “Have you made a decision you haven’t shared with me?” I ask cautiously.

  She plops down on the hard, plastic chair and shakes her head. “I don’t think I should keep anything from you. This baby is yours as well as mine, but it’s growing inside me, so I appreciate you asking.” Her eyes find the anatomical makeup poster of a pregnant woman. Although I think parts of this scare her, I’m not sure what she’ll decide.

  Getting up again, she comes to me and leans her head on my chest. “It wasn’t real yesterday. It was shock factor and reaction. I was trying my best not to believe it because what if those tests were wrong.”

  I realize we all process things differently, even on different timelines. When I was freaking out last night, she was waiting to have confirmation. I’m not sure that either is right or wrong, but I know that I did a disservice to her last night. What will I do this time?

  Looking up at me, she continues, “I’m going to have this baby.”

  I reach out for the wall beside me, needing the support. I’m not sure what I expected, but that doesn’t seem to be it. But I can wholeheartedly attest that’s the answer I was hoping for.

  It’s strange how life comes at you. It wasn’t but a few weeks ago that she hated me. I couldn’t even get Tatum to make eye contact. If she did, it was full of a rage I couldn’t extinguish. Time has given me a second chance. Life has changed for her and for me. I can only hope for the better for both of us.

  I’ve stood too quiet because she asks, “What do you want to do?”

  We don’t have any details worked out. There’s not one plan in place. How could there be? All of this is unexpected, but the direction of our lives has changed, and I’ll change with it. I am nothing like him. Unlike Madison, Tate will not be left to raise this baby alone. “I want this baby, Tate.”

  Again, she embraces me, not waiting, not seeking my permission, just full-on hugs me. It’s not something I’m used to in general with girlfriends. But like I’ve always known, Tatum is special.

  “What happens now?” she asks.

  “Not sure. There’s a lot to think about and plan. But now that we know—”

  “And half of Manhattan because of the surprise party last night.”

  I give her that, tipping my head. “I think we take a few days to just enjoy this. You want this baby. I want this baby. There’s a lot to celebrate with this new life.”

  The nurse comes in and says, “Okay, you’re all ready to go, Ms. Devreux. We’ve set your next appointment.” She hands her an appointment card. “And we look forward to seeing you then. Congratulations to you both.”

  “Thanks,” I say, letting the news sink in.

  We hold hands as we leave. I’m not Mr. Devreux, and she’s not Mrs. Decker, but we’re together, happy, and bringing a new life into the world. It might not be a perfect bow to some, but life feels pretty damn grand to me right now.

  Just as we push through the exit doors, I ask, “Hungry?”

  “Starving. I’m craving French toast. Want to go get breakfast? I know a great diner up ahead.”

  I’m pretty sure cravings don’t start this early. I also never expected to hear Tatum request diner food since she’s more the Michelin-starred restaurant type. I’m happy to oblige her every whim if it means spending time with her and enjoying this next stage together.

  As we walked down the street, I ask, “When can we tell our families?”

  She stops and pulls her phone from her bag. Reading a text message on the screen, she then holds it so I can see it. Her parents will be in Manhattan for one night.

  This Friday.

  The night after her birthday.

  “I guess on my birthday. No time like the present to tell your parents you’re pregnant,” she replies.

  Remembering how her mom acted at the anniversary party, I say, “Well, this should be interesting.”

  25

  Harrison

  “I was worried about being a godparent, and now look at me?”

  “Am I looking at the pint of ice cream in your hand or the fried chicken on your lap?” Ow—the whack to the bicep came fast. She may be pregnant, but she can still deliver a wallop.

  She’s been pregnant for just over a hot minute and is adapting quick to her new life. I think she figured out the perks—me willing and ready to satiate her cravings—real fast.

  Lying on the couch, Tatum laughs, gut-giggling, from it. The woman is delirious . . . with power. She doesn’t have to worry, though. I’m more than willing to feed her cravings, hunger or sexually, anytime she wants.

  When she catches her breath, she says, “I meant because the thought of being a godparent scared me, and now I’m going to be a mom.” She’s quick to move the food to the coffee table before turning to me on the other side of the couch. “Oh wow. I’m going to be a mom, Decker.” Only a second passes before she adds, “You’re going to be a dad.”

  Dad . . .

  I think of my dad.

  And Corbin Christiansen—Nick’s dad.

  Those are the dads I know. Different in a lot of ways and similar in others. I don’t really feel old enough to be called Dad. Imagining a kid calling me that brings a smile to my face, though. I’ve loved being an uncle—the favorite uncle—to Harlow. But what I have realized is that I’ve secretly wanted to be a dad for years but packed away that dream since I didn’t have the woman I wanted to be tied to for the rest of my life.

  I relocated the dream of having a family of my own into my heart. Not sure why.

  Tatum and I can both admit that pure physical attraction brought us together. The sex is outstanding. Still is.

  Truthfully, though, Tatum never indicated one way or the other that we’d one day be friends. Lovers came unexpectedly. It was as though my heart’s been waiting for her to catch up. She may be covered in crumbs with a hint of chocolate stuck to the side of her mouth. Yep, that’s my woman right there, but that’s also the mother of my baby, and I couldn’t be happier.

  Taking her hand, I rub my thumb over her soft skin. “It’s funny because I think we skipped a few steps, but I’m not beholden to some old-fashioned notion. We may have just had our first date, but I think we’re past that now. Tatum, will you be my girlfriend?”

  “Why’d you have to go and do that, Harrison?” Her foot nudges my leg.

  I take her by the ankles and stretch them across my lap, then rub her feet. “What did I go and do exactly?”

  “You’re being sweet and romantic. It makes me question if you’re just doing that because I’m pregnant.”

  “I kind of thought I was romantic before.”

  “You were. You are.” She leans forward, grabbing hold of my forearm, and says, “I want us to be together because we want to, not because we feel we have to. I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future. I don’t know how this works at all. I just know I want a life full of love, not the sadness I’ve felt in the past few years.”
/>
  “I want that for you, too. I want you to feel the freedom you did when we first met.”

  “I was living back then without a care in the world. Or at least the cares that I had overcome.” Flopping back, she throws her arms above her head to rest on the arm of the couch. It’s hard to find the humor in her laughter, though, and that sadness she speaks of is the thing I’ve had trouble reading. She nailed it. “Poor guy. You didn’t know what you were getting yourself into.”

  “What changed over the years?”

  “Me. Everything.” Her gaze shifts to the TV, though it’s currently off. “I’m the same person, but I’ve grown and have more responsibilities.”

  “Let’s get back to that sadness.” I reach as far as I can to cover the divide between us. I touch under her chin, and ask, “Why are you so sad, pretty girl?”

  It’s good she doesn’t rush her response. Her eyes are fixed on mine like she might find the answer. “Meeting twenty-two-year-old vacation Tatum is not the same person you’re meeting at twenty-seven, tomorrow.” She winks. “I’m not going to prematurely age myself.” This time the giggle is soft but genuine. “This is real life, my life, and I’ve come to realize everyone eventually leaves me behind.”

  “Behind what? I’m not trying to be a smart-ass, but what are others keeping you from that you can’t find or do yourself?” When she doesn’t say anything, I start getting some of this shit off my chest. “You’re amazing—happy, sad, mad as all fuck, sexy, natural, and dressed up. Every version of you is worth loving. For yourself. You don’t have to wait around for something that might be all you think it’s cracked up to be. You can create it. You can create the life you want to live, Tatum. Don’t let the world get you down. Don’t let others determine your happiness.”

  “You sound like a life coach.”