by S. L. Scott
Nick nods. “Rash.”
I’m tempted to flip both of them off out of aggravation, but again, that would be rash, thus proving their point.
It’s Saturday, so they’re both home, but I could probably do without the peanut gallery in the living room, especially since we’re talking about his best friend. But him being here isn’t all for naught. He gets up during a commercial break and stands in front of the open fridge staring in. “Harrison is broken-hearted.”
“Did he say that?” I ask, moving to the edge of the barstool.
He looks back at me. “No, guys don’t talk like that, but I can tell. Kind of obvious anyway since he came back to an empty bed.”
“He came back?” I sound so stupid. Of course, he came back, but it begs the question: Why’d he leave me?
“He lives there, Tate.”
Natalie is staring at me. She can read my mind too well, so I avoid looking at her altogether. And then start whistling since I’m already in the hot seat.
That’s not going to stop her. “Tatum Eloise Devreux.”
She’s full-name calling me out? Crap. I’m in trouble now.
I look at her. “Yes,” I gulp through the response.
“He went surfing to clear his head. Nick and Andrew do that too.”
“She’s speaking facts,” Nick slips in and then pops a grape in his mouth.
Natalie comes around the island and stands right beside me. Swiveling me on the stool to face her, she levels her eyes to mine and lowers her voice. “Did you actually think Harrison wasn’t coming back?”
“He lives there. I knew he was coming back at some point. I just . . . he knows my triggers, and leaving is the biggie for me. Why would he leave when the night before he said we’ll talk in the morning? What kind of message does that send for me to wake up alone?”
“I don’t know,” she says, her body out of energy. She pulls the stool next to me out to sit down. “I don’t know, but you guys can’t seem to catch a break. Maybe—”
“Don’t say it, Nat,” Nick says, this time wholeheartedly involved in the conversation as he returns to the couch.
“Say what?” I ask.
Natalie hits Nick with a glare before turning back to me. “Destiny. It will find a way if you’re meant to be.”
“And if we’re not?”
“Then it will lead you to who you’re supposed to be with.”
“Destiny sounds like a drunk girl you have to buy cab fare for to get her to go home at the end of the night.”
“That’s very . . . specific, but I can see it,” she replies, and then hops off the stool again. “I’ll be back. Time to pee for the three hundredth time today.”
“I’ve not gotten to that stage. Thank goodness.”
Nick looks toward the front of the house where his wife just disappeared. Then, seemingly pleased the coast is clear, he turns around on the couch. “We should talk, Tatum.”
“I’m right here.”
“Look, I say this because I care about you.”
I almost feel as if I’ve disappointed him. “That’s not a good start.”
“I’m going to be very direct because Natalie likes to make every short story long. I love that woman and everything about her, but we don’t have that kind of time.”
Now he has me on the lookout for her. “Okay, shoot.”
“You and Nat are a team, a force to be reckoned with, a dynamic duo, the great Nat and Tat. Like it literally is a thing. But she worries about you. She feels guilty, like she’s letting you down by moving on with her life. Not that she ever forgets you. She doesn’t at all, but she cares enough to want the best for you, to want you to find the happiness that I know she’s found.”
I could be defensive or keep my guard up with him, but nothing Nick is saying is new. Natalie and I are a dynamic duo, but Batman and Robin had other love interests, even if Catwoman was a poor choice. But that’s a whole other issue I wrote a paper about in college. I got an A+. Anywho, I say, “She has. She’s so lucky to have you.”
“Is it luck? Maybe. Though you know Cookie doesn’t believe in luck.”
“She believes in destiny.”
“That’s what Natalie is to me. She’s not only my wife. She’s my eternity. I love her that much.”
She scored with Nick Christiansen.
Is it wrong to be this stinkin’ happy for your best friend? I could tear up . . . and I do. I’m blaming those hormones Natalie was just talking about. I was a boohooing mess on the flight home because Home Alone was on. What is this craziness?
Yep, rash.
I realize now that I acted rashly.
I can hear the water running in the bathroom. Peeking down the hall, I know we’re running out of time. He says, “My point being . . .” Thank God, he’s getting to his point. I’m even stressed she’ll overhear. “I realized early on that it’s not choosing you or me for Natalie. We all have the capacity to love and love big. What Natalie and I have is different than what you two share. Harrison, or whoever you fall in love with, will love you enough to understand we’re not competing. We’re family.”
“That’s why you’ve always welcomed me into your home without a single question. You just opened your heart.”
“Natalie loves you. That means I do too. So you’re not alone. Not ever. But we hope you find the same kind of love that Natalie and I share. I vote for Harrison, but that’s a given. You go where your heart leads you.”
“I think Cookie’s rubbing off on you.”
“I’m okay with that.”
The door opens down the hall, and Natalie’s shoes echo as she returns. “Ugh. My bladder is the size of a peanut. So annoying.” She stops at the entrance to the living room and puts her hands on her hips. “Wow, Nick,” she says to the back of his head. “You couldn’t entertain our guest for two minutes while I was gone?”
With his eyes glued to the TV, he replies, “It’s not a guest. It’s Tatum.”
My heart swells with the feels. I’m not a guest. I’m family. He didn’t have to say it for me to know what he meant.
She sits down next to me again, spinning to face me. “I thought I heard you guys talking.”
Nick says, “Must have been the announcers.” If she only knew what a softie he is. What am I saying? She knows. She married that sweetheart of a man.
Natalie goes over to the back of him and kisses him on the head. To me, she says, “He’s a big lug when sports are on, but he’s my big lug. Before I forget, the cooking class starts next week. Are you still in?”
I don’t have those same interests, but maybe it’s time I learned a new skill. “I’m in.”
“Good. That will be fun.”
Slipping off the stool, I reach down and grab my bag. “I think I’m going home to rest. It’s been a long day already, and you really have me rethinking things.”
Natalie walks with me to the door.
“Good talking to you, Nick.” I have no intention of spoiling his cover, but I will take his advice to heart. After all, they only want the best for me.
He waves over his head, but he never looks back. “Yeah, you, too.”
Grabbing the handle of my suitcase, I roll it to the front door. Before she has a chance to call him for help, Nick’s already coming to carry it down to the sidewalk for me. “Got it.”
I hug Natalie because I realize she’s carried the burden of my happiness since we were kids. She’s the one who stepped in when my parents upset me or, worse, ignored me altogether. It’s time I let her live free from the weight of her worry for me.
“Love you.”
“Love you, too,” she says.
When we step back, I say, “I’m going to be okay.”
“Yes, you are. You’ve always been the strongest person I know.”
“I say that about you.”
We smile at each other, and then I say, “See you soon.”
“See you soon.”
Riding in the back of a car heading
home, I pull out my phone. I’ll give Harrison full credit for texting and calling right away. I didn’t expect to see twenty missed calls and more than a handful of texts by the time I landed, but I’m not upset by it.
I’m about to text, but I decide I want to hear his voice and for him to hear mine. There’s no misinterpretation that way. That also means I have to wait to get home. No way am I having this conversation in the back of a rideshare.
I hurry to my apartment as soon as I arrive. My heart is racing, and I’m not sure of the words I should use other than I’m sorry. But I roll my suitcase inside and kick the door closed. With the phone in my hand, I drop my bag on the counter and head for the windows. I need light.
It makes no sense, but the sun pouring in makes this feel less heavy. The phone rings, and I stand there with my heart trying to beat out of my chest. “Tatum,” he says as if he’s breathing again.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
An uncomfortable silence invades, and an apology suddenly doesn’t seem like a viable option of getting us back together. A long-winded explanation maybe? “I’m sorry I left.” Okay, well, direct is always good. Let’s just hope he can appreciate that angle.
The silence lingers though I know he’s still there because I can hear his breathing. In the past, he’s mentioned the first one who speaks loses. It’s a sales technique of his. But the quiet between us is painful and stretching, so I say, “Harrison, are you still there?”
“I’m here.”
“I . . . I’m not sure how to make this right.”
“Can I be honest with you, Tatum?”
“Of course. I hope you’re always honest with me.”
“I’m not mad at you. I’m disappointed. I was only gone a few hours. I don’t know why you would leave. Why would you leave at a time like that?”
“If you want my honesty, I thought you had already left me. I know that doesn’t make sense, but I wasn’t thinking rationally. I was thinking through the pain, and all I wanted was for it to go away.”
“Did it go away?
“No, it got worse.”
“I appreciate you apologizing. I know that’s not easy to do, especially when your reason for doing it makes sense to you. But you gave me enough time to think about what was happening, and it’s a lot. I know you’re going through a lot, and maybe this isn’t the right time for us.”
“Wait, no. That’s—”
“Time is what you need, Tatum. Your life is changing dramatically. I’m not saying I want you out there dating because fuck no, that’s not happening.”
“Then what are you saying, Harrison?” Please don’t say you’ve given up on me too. That I’m not enough for you to want to stay for.
“I want you to want me how I want you.”
It’s a tongue twister, but, “I love you.”
“I love you, too. But I want us together because we want to be together. Not because you’re pregnant. Am I the man you’d choose if you weren’t having my baby? Don’t answer right now. When you know and you’re certain, call me.”
“Harris—” The line goes dead, along with my heart.
I had it all, and I realized too late.
31
Tatum
“I missed what braising is,” I whisper to Natalie.
A spatula slaps the cutting board in front of me. “Zip it, Ms?” Chef Marcelles yells in an intense French accent from right behind me.
I turn around and say, “Devreux.”
“Ah. Oui. Oui. French. Tres magnifique.” He comes closer. “No talking in my class. Oui?”
“Oui?”
When I turn back to Natalie with wide eyes, she gets my drift without using words: he’s an asshole.
“That class was intense,” I say, “like Marcelle, and that was only the first one.”
“It was incredible, right?” Natalie cheerfully raves, hands in the air and all. “And who knew that brown butter was a secret weapon for the perfect short ribs? Not me.”
“I thought brown butter was just butter that’s cooked until brown?”
She laughs. “It is.” Staring down at the rest of her shopping list, she says, “I have a lot of shopping tomorrow for short ribs. I want to practice before Cookie and Corbin fly in next month for Juni and Andrew’s delivery. The guys have a bet going, and Nick’s going with the Fourth of July.”
“That’s too early. I’m feeling July eighteenth.”
“Really?” she asks as if I just told her she won a million dollars a week for life sweepstakes. “I told Nick the same date.”
“Great minds and all. Hey, before you take off, can I ask your advice?”
She adjusts her bag to the crook of her arm. “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”
“You know how Harrison and I are taking a little break?”
“Yes.” Of course, she does.
Harrison has flown back and forth a few times. I only know that because I’m told I can come over because the coast is clear.
Beyond that, I have no idea if he’s had to show anyone else properties in New York. I have no clue what he’s done in New York at all. I’ve felt blind about anything to do with him, and that just feels wrong.
My offer was accepted on the property next to Nat and Nick, but I’ve only spoken to Robert about that. He’s organized the various building inspections, and I’m about to sign a contract. That’s still a surprise to Natalie and Nick, though. Unless Harrison’s spilled the beans to Nick already. Wouldn’t Nat tell me if she knew, though? Once again, I have no idea, and I hate that it feels like they’re living a whole other life that I’m not privy to. I wonder if Harrison feels the same. I wonder if he asks about me when he’s here.
“I want to call him. It’s already been eleven days.” I look down at my watch. “Seventeen hours and some odd minutes, but the apartment’s not the same without him cooking or hogging the shower, taking up the side of the bed that I don’t use, and I’m always cold. He was a really great heater at night.”
“So what you’re saying is that you miss him?”
Sometimes it’s just best to cut to the chase. “I miss him, Nat. Does that make me sad that me missing him is the biggest revelation I’ve had since he’s been gone?”
“I think it’s a good thing, and quite honestly, exactly what he wants you to realize.” She touches my belly. I never mind when she does. I even get to touch her belly that’s just recently popped out a little. She basically looks like she ate a hoagie for lunch.
We move off to the side of the restaurant doors where they hold the cooking class. She goes on, “The question seemed simple, but it’s really complex. If you weren’t pregnant, would you want to be with him?” Yes. One hundred times, yes.
“I was doing that already. I was living that life and want it back. I want him back.”
“Then you have your answer.”
“I guess I do.” We hug goodbye and head in separate directions. It’s tempting to want the perfect setting to make confessions of the heart, but I don’t want to waste any time. So I call him.
The trill of a female laughing fills the line, and I hold the phone away from my face to double-check that I didn’t misdial. Nope. Harrison Decker is at the top of the screen. The voice says, “Hello?”
“Sorry, I got the wrong number.”
I end the call and look around. Leaning against the jagged rock of the refined restaurant, I go numb.
Well, I guess that answers the other part of my question—does he want me to call him as Nat suggested? To ask him to come back to me . . . Or was that his get-out-of-jail-free card?
He said he’d always be there for me. For us. He said he loved me. He said I was his future.
But just like my parents, other things are far more tempting. Far more . . . worth staying elsewhere for. And I got a good idea what sort of women he’s gravitated to in the past. Women who literally threw themselves at him. How could I trust him to be alone out there when I saw how he was hounded?
/> Eventually, most men would give in. Even a man like Harrison, who I thought was one of the good ones. Turns out, he was quick to hang up on me, and it seems, quick to replace me.
I place a hand on my middle. I’ve been such a fool for thinking he wanted me to figure out the meaning of life and come running. It worked too, but no more. “It’s okay, baby. We have each other now. We don’t need anyone.”
I push off the building and get in a cab.
There will be no calls or texts, spending all day pining and the nights crying from his absence. Harrison Decker can go to hell for all I care.
If I mean that little to him . . . tears overflow the barriers of my lower lids, but I’m quick to wipe them away. I can’t believe I’m crying over a man.
Never again.
~ Harrison ~
“It’s so good to see you,” Cookie says, welcoming me in. She leads me to the kitchen where the smell of blueberry muffins causes my stomach to growl. “Help yourself.”
She pours a glass of milk, and it reminds me of stopping by after school to do homework and play video games with Nick.
“I wanted to get your advice.”
“On Tatum?”
“How’d you know?”
She shrugs and gazes out the window. When she turns back, she says, “I remember both of my sons being in a similar state over Juni and Natalie. “What do you want to know, Harrison? I’ll help you the best I can.”
“I’m not sure what happened. She lets her fear of getting hurt protect her from ever receiving love.”
Nodding, she then takes a sip of iced tea. She doesn’t rush her response, taking her time to mull it over. “That is a tough one. She’s hard on herself, and to protect her heart, she builds walls around it. How close am I?”
“Very.”
She grins.
“How do I get through to her that I won’t hurt her?” I ask.
“You don’t, silly. No one makes that promise to everyone and can keep it. The problem lies in the woman herself. Tatum made that promise to herself. The key is to get her to unlock a door and let you in.”
“You’re probably right.” I eat a muffin because how do I not when they look and smell amazing.