by S. L. Scott
She napped half the flight and then watched a show before she was awake enough to discuss the house and offer.
“If I submit an offer, are you going to counter?” she asks.
“Maybe. I have to see what the clients want to do. As soon as we get back to my place, I’ll call her.”
“Your place.” She leans her head against the headrest and rolls it to face me. “Tell me about it.”
“I have a house on the Bird Streets.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“The Bird Streets is a highly sought-after section of homes above the Sunset Strip named after birds like Nightingale and Thrasher. You had me pegged for being stereotypical from the beginning. Guess I didn’t disappoint.”
She reaches for my hand and holds it. And if I’m not mistaken, I spot remorse laced into her features. “I’m sorry for saying that. I don’t think you’re stereotypical at all. If I did, I wouldn’t be with you.” She licks her lips and then adds, “I actually think you’re very special, a treasure I’ve found somehow out of all the trash I’ve dated.”
I lean over and kiss her. “I love you.”
Kissing me again, she runs her fingers along my jaw, holding me there, and she whispers, “I love you, too.”
~ Tatum ~
The seat belt sign comes on, and the attendant announces our arrival at LAX.
I’ve been to Los Angeles a lot over the years for shopping, vacations, visiting friends, and invitations to celebrity events. When I think of Hollywood, I think of mansions. That’s not what I get with Harrison’s house.
I get a home that a family could live in. Modern only in clean lines, the natural wood elements in the shelves and the tables keep it grounded and earthy in nature. The leather chairs and the plush couch have an elevated but old-Hollywood vibe to them. It’s the art that stands out.
Standing in front of the fireplace after a tour, I stare up at the modern art that’s bold in the use of orange and blues with a hint of red in the background. Art gives insight into someone’s life. Considering not only is Harrison a real estate agent but that he pursued me well after he had a right to give up, the art fits the man.
It’s the view that steals the limelight, though. “You can see all of Los Angeles and more from here.” I look over my shoulder. “It’s stunning. Open, like you. You know, if we’re comparing that kind of thing, my view down the avenue is much tighter.” I shrug. “Fitting with how closed off I can be.”
He comes around me, slipping his arms around my middle. “I don’t see it that way. You’re not closed off to me. And you have an incredible view for New York City.”
“True.”
Kissing my neck, he says, “I’m going to contact Robert, the agent who will work with you on the deal, and then call Dolores.”
“I wanted you to get the commission.”
“Don’t worry about me. I have a good deal going with Robert because I explained the situation. But ultimately, I feel better bringing him in to keep things on the up and up.” He starts down the hall but comes back standing at the head of it and asks, “Are you sure about this? It’s a lot of money, money you said you didn’t have. If this is revenge, it might backfire, and where will that leave you?”
“They don’t care about the money. They probably won’t blink an eye.”
Just because I’ve never spent more than half a million at one time before doesn’t mean I couldn’t.” With a hand resting on my stomach protectively, I say, “I want that house.” I now get why Natalie already touches her stomach though there’s no pooch. But there will be. For both of us. Surreal. And now, I want to buy a house.
That house has so many benefits from Natalie being next door to Juni on the other side of her, the backyard, the neighborhood, and the location in the city. Most of all, it felt like a place I could call home with my baby. With Harrison. And if all I am to my parents is an inheritance check, then that’s what I’ll spend their check on too.
It stings. It still stings, what she said. And my father didn’t defend. How quickly, without any hesitation whatsoever, my mom said I was born to satisfy . . . sate their love of money. I’ve received no text or call since last night to right that wrong either. I thought I also had their respect. I may have lived easily because of their money, but I still got a college degree, and I’m putting that to good use. What Nat and I do at STJ does good for many. And not just those who can afford us.
Harrison heads down the hall, adding, adding, “My mom said she stocked the fridge. Make yourself at home, eat something. There are drinks in there as well. I’ll be back shortly.”
I get a bottle of water from the neatly arranged ones in the pantry and then grab a bag of sour cream & onion chips because I’m pregnant and want them, and those are the excuses I’m using to justify the snack food addiction I’ve recently developed.
Meandering down the hall, I can hear him in the office. I return to the bedroom he showed me on the tour. I like that I get a whiff of his scent in the air. The room has the same killer view as the living room and even a door that leads to the large, shared balcony.
I eat my chips out there, staring as far as the eyes can see, and start to wonder if I could live out here permanently. This is where he’s based. This is where he intends to return to. It’s already set up and waiting for the family to be here.
I finish the snack and crumple the bag in my hand. This isn’t a life I’m familiar with, but I don’t think I can discount it if he plans to live here. Can I live in this foreign city? Do I want to?
All the reasons I love Dolores’s house aren’t replicated here other than it’s a nice home to live with a family. There’s a backyard, and the location seems great, but our friends, his friend, is even in Manhattan. Well, Nat is more sister than friend if I’m honest. I can introduce you to my family, take you to my house, which I think you’re really going to like . . .
His family is here.
A row of surfboards lines the far end of the deck, and it makes me realize I’m taking away all the things he loves best by hoping he stays in the city.
Are we too different to make this work?
The last thing I want is to make him sacrifice a life that he not only created but built. That life is here. I’m staring right at it and everything he loves, the stuff he talks about, what he wants.
Feeling a little dizzy, I grab onto the rail to steady myself. I close my eyes and let it wash through me before it passes. It’s the early flight and the airport crowds . . . I’m probably just tired. I should lie down.
I return back inside and take another sip of water before I toss my trash in the bathroom and climb onto his huge bed. The house is big enough to have some distance between the rooms, but occasionally, I hear Harrison laugh or say something loudly like he’s talking to an old acquaintance.
Whether I had him representing me or how it turned out with me working with another agent, I’m glad I could play a part in helping him establish himself. If I want him to stay in New York, that’s what I’m going to have to do.
“Tatum?”
My eyes open to the sound of a female voice calling my name. I blink rapidly a few times, but I can’t wrangle my thoughts together. What am I looking at? Where am I? Sitting up, I look around the room, realizing I’m at Harrison’s house. Where is he, and why is there an unfamiliar woman calling my name?
“Hello?” I call back, trying to shake the sleepiness. This baby is taking it out of me already, and we haven’t even officially met.
Going to the door, I notice the office is wide open down the hall. I peek out. “Hello?”
“Hello?” she calls right back and then appears from the other end of the hall to where I’m standing. She’s an older woman with light blond hair, gentle waves framing her face that only touches her shoulders. When she sees me, she smiles, and unlike the voice, there is a familiarity in that. “Hi, I’m Harrison’s mom, Nora.”
“Oh, hi,” I reply awkwardly, unsure of how I look
after my nap. I touch my hair and fidget with my clothes. “I was napping.”
Her smile never wavers. “I’m sorry for waking you. Harrison got called to an appointment. Clients he’s been working with for a while want to submit an offer.”
“Ah.” Do I move? Do I walk toward her? She seems nice enough, but I don’t know what to think since she’s not exactly my favorite person based on how she pawned him off when he was growing up.
I should move. I come down the hall, and she retreats into the kitchen, leaning on the counter, looking very much at home. I say, “Can I help you with something, or are you waiting for him to return?”
“No,” she says, shaking her head and laughing. “I’m here for you. He didn’t know how long it would take and didn’t want to leave you stranded. I can drive you somewhere or take you shopping. Do you need anything?”
The back of my legs hit the couch, and I casually lean against the arm of it. “I’ll be fine right here.”
Coming around, she goes to open the large accordion-style back door. “I didn’t mean to make this awkward. Maybe some fresh air will help clear it, and we can sit outside and get to know each other.” She stops as if another idea has entered her head. “Or I could go?” She starts for the barstool and grabs her purse. “That’s probably best. We can talk when Harrison brings you over for dinner.”
Now I feel bad, and that makes this encounter not only awkward but a bit irritating. “You can stay. I just need a minute to get my bearings and to freshen up.”
With her purse straps on her shoulder, she asks, “Are you sure?”
“Please stay.”
She lowers her purse, and says, “All right.”
After verifying I don’t have makeup or drool running down my face after the nap, I join her outside on the deck. She stands and asks, “Would you like to sit up or by the pool?”
Hey. Hey. She’s talking my language. I love a pool, but I’m confused. “What pool?”
“The one on the lower deck,” she replies like I know what she’s referring to.
I walk past where she’s sitting and look over the railing.
Oh my God! That. Is. Amazing.
Ten or more feet below where I stand, another deck juts out from the side of the cliff with a rectangle pool built into it. I turn back to her, grinning like a loon. “I didn’t know it was there.”
“Yes.” She nods, and adds, “It’s nice for when he has kids one day as well. The gate can be locked up here so no littles can get down there.”
Kids? Littles? Harrison has already put safety plans in place for the future. My hand goes instinctively to my belly as I look over at the pool again. “Smart,” I reply, the word barely fitting around the lump in my throat.
She comes to stand beside me. “I brought strawberry lemonade since it’s warm out today.” She offers me one with hers in the other.
“Thank you.” I take it and sip.
Leaning her arms on the railing, she stares ahead at the whole of Los Angeles, and says, “I was trying to remember how long it’s been since I met one of Harrison’s girlfriends.”
“Have there been that many?”
She laughs and looks my way. “Many. I hope you don’t mind me being honest.”
“I prefer honesty.”
“But there haven’t been many I’ve met. None actually. I already knew his prom date since she grew up down the street, but other than that, I couldn’t remember one that I’ve met. And here you are.”
She shares the same blue eyes as Harrison. I know most of my kids . . . kids? When did this become a plural thing? A sharp exhale gets me back on track with my thoughts. Genetically, my kids should carry my brown-eyed gene. But for a short moment, it’s fun to imagine them with blue eyes like their daddy.
“Here I am.”
“Harrison not only wanted me to meet you but wanted to make sure you’re taken care of while he’s gone. His sister would call him smitten.”
“Smitten.” I roll the word over my tongue as it brings a smile to my face. “I’m smitten too.” But it’s the smile on her face that tells me everything I need to know. She’s happy for him. She’s happy that her son is smitten. With me. Huh. I like that. I like her.
We eventually sit down and chat about me, growing up in New York, my family—I leave a lot out—and then share more about my work.
She’s so lovely and kind, relaxed in that California laid-back way I always hear about. I can’t get the woman before to fit what I had heard regarding the nannies. Especially after she spoke so fondly of her kids and raising them.
“Do you want to have children, Tatum?”
The question isn’t out of left field. We’ve been talking about family for an hour now. But it’s not something I’ve ever been asked other than maybe Natalie at some point in our lives. The other issue is how do I handle this, considering I’m pregnant with not only her son’s child but her second grandkid. I won’t lie about this baby.
It’s a pact I made myself the moment the doctor confirmed I was pregnant. I’ve hidden enough of myself over the years. I won’t drag a baby into that web.
This is about new beginnings for me, my child, and Harrison. This is about finding happiness right here in the middle of the chaos.
“I do want children. I’m not sure how many, but I do.”
“Harrison always talked about having kids.”
I laugh, and the release feels good. I’m surprisingly comfortable with her. “He’ll make a great father.”
“He’ll be a better example than the one he had.” She reaches over from her Adirondack chair to tap my arm, a lot like we’re in this together. I like that. “Bill learned in time, but some habits die hard. He’s a very driven man. We once lost everything. That changed him.” She laughs to herself. “He used to have a bear of an ego. He’s a good man but struggles with being in touch with his emotional side sometimes. He’s getting better.”
I’m not sure what to say, so I offer her an ear and listen. She goes on to say, “He still believes in tough love, so that’s what he models.”
She takes sips of her lemonade and then falls silent. She has a way of sharing so much of her emotion in her words. I say, “I’m sorry to hear of your struggles. Do you mind sharing what happened?”
“Not at all. I wear that story like a badge of honor. The market crashed and the housing market flipped on itself. He had a million listings, but there were no buyers. Everyone was too scared to spend the money. We had four kids, and we were about to lose everything, so we went to my parents, who paid our mortgage, our bills, and for the nannies we needed to keep our lives in order. My parents were very proud old money. They wouldn’t allow us to look like there were any struggles. Appearances were everything.” She angles toward me. “We owed my parents so much money, but then I got a listing and sold a house, and then another, and then another. For the first time in my life, I was the breadwinner. I was able to get the clients and find the buyers he couldn’t. It took five years, but I turned everything around for us.”
“I thought he ran the company?”
“He does. I was a real estate mogul at the time, but my top job was being a mom, and I missed it. So we transitioned the business back into his care, and I started to stay home again.” She laughs as if she’s in on an inside joke. “If you listen to Harrison, he had thirty nannies in two years. He also has a vivid imagination. It’s not that he lies about it. It’s that . . .” Her smile wanes. “I think he just missed me. Sweet boy.”
My heart aches for him. And for the first time, I can see that she missed her kids too. She missed time with her kids. Whereas my mom probably missed where she wasn’t rather than time with me. “He still is sweet. How many did he have over those five years?”
“Three. He did his best to scare them off, but they stuck around because they adored him even though he was a little hellion.”
“I can see that.”
When I see her chest rise and fall slowly, her smile remains. “Harri
son has said such beautiful things about you, Tatum.”
“He’s always quick to tell me I’m pretty.”
She’s nodding. “That’s sweet, but he never once mentioned your beauty.”
“Oh.”
“He told me how creative you are in your job, and that you’re ambitious, and there’s no stopping you when you set your mind to something.” Kindness fills the lines in her face as she continues, “He talks about your sense of style and that you own a room the moment you walk into it. He knows I love home design, so he spoke of your apartment capturing such warmth that he prefers to stay there over Nick’s.”
She goes on to say he loves my sense of humor and smile, but the one thing she doesn’t mention is him talking about my looks. I don’t know what to think about that. Although, honestly, I’m more than amazed at how much she knows about me. He’s talked about me to his mother. She knows of the things Harrison loves about me. I’m floored.
“Hey.”
We both turn back to see Harrison standing in the opening of the living room. “Hi,” I say, pushing up to greet him.
Nora stands, and they hug each other. She says, “It’s so good to see you.”
“You saw me last week, Mom.”
“You’ll never understand until you have kids of your own.”
The eyes I missed staring into find mine, and he smiles, opening his arm and pulling me to his side. We kiss, and he says, “My mom didn’t share all my dirty secrets, did she?”
“Your secrets are safe.” Pointing at him, I add, “Except the nannies. I thought you were running a halfway house of errant nannies. Nope, just a kids’ exaggerated memory.”
“Really?” He turns to his mom for confirmation.
She shrugs. “There were three, Harry.”
I’ve never heard him called that, but it’s cute to hear his nickname and to see him in his element. Maybe I judged this place too harshly and out of fear instead of for the home he’s created and the family he has here.