Make It Last

by Megan Erickson

  Tate bit her lip harder until she tasted blood.

  Those brown eyes burned into her. “Is that you? Are you that woman for him?”

  It took a minute for Tate to be able to speak. For her to release her abused lip, open up her mouth, and say, “Yes. That’s why I’m here. I’m fighting.”

  Teresa’s eyes finally softened and the burning in Tate’s skull eased. “Good girl. I’m guessing you need an address in New York?”

  This was it. Be your own heroine. “Yes, please. I’d love that address.”

  Chapter 19

  AT HOME, TATE threw clothes in a duffel bag that still smelled like campfire smoke. She wasn’t taking the time to pick out anything nice. She might end up wearing something horrid and unmatched, but this was New York City, right? She’d probably fit right in.

  Actually, shit, she had no idea what NYC was even like. Or how she was getting there.

  She sat down on the bed and deep breathed. No way would Cecil make it. She could take a train, maybe. A train? She had no idea where the closest station was.

  Oh God, how was she going to do this? But she had to. This was her grand gesture. This was her moment, to show Cam how she felt. To prove to him that she could fight for them.

  Tate frowned and tapped her chin. How much was a plane ticket to New York?

  She picked up her phone and began searching for flights. Which was confusing as all hell. Where was the Easy Button that she could click that automatically knew what she wanted? Stupid phone and technology.

  She was about to throw her cell across the room when there was a knock at her door.

  “Come in,” she muttered.

  Her dad walked into the room first, then Jamie, followed by Anne.

  Tate frowned. “Hey, what’s going on?”

  Anne stepped forward and held out a sheet of paper. “Your plane ticket.”

  Tate blinked at her and then stuck a finger in her ear, wiggled it, then pulled it back out. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  Anne shook the paper in Tate’s face. “I bought you a plane ticket.”

  Tate’s eyes landed on the paper. And there it was, in black ink on a crinkled piece of white computer paper. A flight number and time and bar code and everything.

  Departure: BWI

  Destination: LaGuardia Airport

  “But—”

  “We all talked, baby.” Her dad sat down on the bed beside her. “We know you were in here wracking your brain about how to get to New York. Anne said she wanted to buy your ticket. So, here we are.”

  Tate plunked her head down on her father’s shoulder and looked up at Anne. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  Anne patted her cheek. “I wanted to.”

  Jamie smiled reassuringly, and Tate imagined the picture they all made. She groaned. “This is so Hallmark right now.”

  Her dad jiggled his shoulder so her head bounced. “Jamie said he’d drive you to the airport. To make your flight, you need to leave now.”

  Tate snatched the paper from Anne’s hand and checked the departure time. “Oh shit!” She jumped up and began throwing more random clothes in her bag. Then she ran out into the hallway to grab toiletries.

  She ran back into her room, brandishing her toothbrush. “Wait a minute. How long am I going to be there? When’s my return flight?”

  Anne rolled her lips between her teeth. Jamie rocked on his heels, and only her dad met her eyes. “We didn’t get you a return flight.”

  Tate’s hand with her toothbrush dropped to her side. “What?”

  He stood up slowly and walked toward her, placed a hand on the side of her neck. “It’s not that we think you’re staying there. But we don’t know how long and we’re hoping . . . that you come back with someone. And you two can decide when and how. Maybe stay for a little? Take some time off. We can hold down the fort here.”

  “But—”

  Her father squeezed his fingers, silencing her. “Please, baby, do as I ask. Go fight for Cam.”

  Tate’s eyes pricked with tears. “This is the best pep talk of all pep talks.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Have a safe flight.”

  She turned to grab her bag, then turned around, gesturing with a finger between her father and Anne. “Well, we’ll be discussing this, by the way. You two.”

  Her father reached out and clutched Anne’s hand. “This is something we probably should have done years ago.”

  “Aw damn, I’m going to cry again,” Tate muttered as she hugged them.

  On the ride to the airport, Tate and Jamie didn’t do much talking. She was nervous as hell and couldn’t deal with conversation. But music and dancing? Well, Jamie knew her, and so he cranked up the radio and they sang along to Billy Joel and Bruce Springsteen and all the legendary songwriters their dad raised them on.

  Jamie hugged her after he helped unload her bag from the car in the drop-off area at Baltimore-Washington International Airport. “Be safe,” he said.

  She nodded and kissed his cheek. With a wave, he got in the car and drove away, leaving her on the sidewalk with “Tiny Dancer” in her head.

  Tate turned to face the doors of the airport. She could see the security line through the glass, and that’s when it hit her that she’d never flown alone. Hell, she’d never traveled alone. And the only time she’d been in a plane, she’d been eight and flew to see her father’s now-deceased parents in Colorado.

  What if they strip-searched her? She didn’t even like removing her shoes.

  She’d called Cam on the way, but he hadn’t answered. She didn’t leave him a voice mail because she didn’t know what to say, other than, I’m coming. Teresa had said he was staying for at least three days.

  So Tate took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and walked into the airport.

  Luckily she didn’t even have to remove her shoes, being one of the fortunate ones to be waved into the express security line. She dumped her bag on the conveyor belt and then picked it up after it passed muster.

  Once past security, she checked her ticket and began to make her way to her gate.

  She’d been a little girl last time she was an airport. Everything had seemed larger than life. Everything moved so fast. She’d wanted to be one of those people, on their way to bigger and better things. And now she was one of those adults, flying to their dreams.

  She self-consciously hitched her tattered bag onto her shoulder. As she passed several restaurants, her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since Teresa’s spiked lemonade and half a cookie.

  And now it was past lunch. Damn, she’d arrive in New York around dinner.

  She bought a chicken Caesar salad at a small café in the airport. But as she sat down to eat, she began to panic. What if Cam rejected her? What if she couldn’t find him?

  She wasn’t this person who took off on a whim after a boy.

  But then she took a deep breath. And sipped the rum and Coke she’d ordered for courage.

  This wasn’t a whim. And Cam wasn’t some boy.

  She finished up her late lunch and walked to her gate, proud of herself that she’d found it all on her own.

  She checked her phone. No call from Cam. She texted her dad and let him know she’d made it to her gate and was waiting for boarding.

  He texted back.

  Proud of you.

  She smiled.

  Proud of me, too.

  Chapter 20

  I’m in New York City and I was going to make this grand gesture but I don’t know where I am and there is some naked guy beside me drawing a mural of the apocalypse on the sidewalk.

  You’re in NYC?

  Yep.

  You’re in NYC.

  I already confirmed this.

  Where are you?

  I love you.

  Tate . . .

  I’m fighting for us this time.

  Tate, where are you?

  I want you.

  TATE GODDAMN IT WHERE ARE YOU?

/>   Will you fight with me this time?

  Fuck it, I tracked your phone. Stay where you are.

  OK.

  Tate?

  Yeah?

  I’m fighting, too.

  Chapter 21

  NEW YORK CITY was huge. Population of over eight million people in five boroughs.

  It made Cam twitchy but he’d traveled a bit.

  He couldn’t imagine how Tate was feeling. You could take the girl out of the small town but you couldn’t take the small town out of the girl.

  But yet, despite the size of NYC, she’d found him, or at least came pretty close. So either his mom had a hand in this, or Tate had done some digging.

  And if the app on his phone was correct, which he used to track her location, she was about a block away. He’d excused himself from the tour to go to the bathroom after receiving her first text. And now he was still getting a tour of the office. He didn’t know why. It’s not like he planned to work here any time soon.

  By he smiled at his soon-to-be-boss anyway, nodding at the appropriate times even though his feet hurt in his shoes, his tie felt like a noose and sweat was dripping down his back.

  It was only another fifteen minutes, but it felt like fifteen hours when he burst out of the front doors of the office building.

  He walked toward her location, peering through the pedestrians on the sidewalk before he spotted her. Her hair was up in that hairstyle with the bump he loved. Her eye shadow was dark on her hazel cat eyes. She wore a simple blue dress and a pair of sandals and stood out like a million bucks among every else around her.

  Tate was in front of a street vendor with a table full of sunglasses, trying them on one by one, while the guy’s mouth moved a mile a minute.

  She’d pose and laugh and the guy would talk more, surely buttering her up to make a sale. Although Cam was sure he was smitten.

  You couldn’t not be smitten by Tate.

  She was here. In New York. She’d come for him, not knowing he was moving mountains for her.

  He took a deep breath and let out the exhale slowly. It’d been worth it, this trip. It’d been worth it to find a way to be with Tate. Now that he knew she was fighting, too.

  She took that moment to look up, a pair of large, round, forties-style sunglasses over her eyes. Her lips parted and then she smiled.

  In seconds, Cam was in front of her, bending her back over his arm as he kissed her, pouring everything he felt into that connection. She was hot under his hands and her lips were soft and she made tiny moans in the back of her throat.

  He pulled back and helped steady her on her feet. She gripped his shoulders and bit her lip. He reached out and pushed the sunglasses onto the top of her head. Tears leaked out of her eyes as she gave a little sob-laugh. “Surprise,” she said softly.

  Cam shook his head. “You’re crazy.”

  She swiped her eyes and laughed louder. “Crazy for you.”

  A throat cleared and they both looked over at the street vendor. He appraised them with squinted eyes and a cocked head. Then he waved at the sunglasses on Tate’s head. “Free for the lovebirds.”

  Cam opened his mouth, because the card on the table said they were only ten dollars, but the man waved again. “No. I said free. Yesterday, a woman tore a wig off another one in front of me. This”—he gestured to their embrace—“is much happier. Now go, and enjoy the rest of the evening.”

  Cam glanced at the sky, darkening as the sun dipped below a tall building. “Thanks, man.”

  The vendor gave him a two-fingered salute and then directed his attention to a customer.

  Cam took Tate’s duffel bag and slung it over her shoulder, then grabbed her hand to lead her down the sidewalk. He wasn’t sure where to start with all the questions forming in his head. He went with an easy one. “How did you get here?”

  Tate’s eyes were wide as she took in the scenery. “I flew.”

  “You flew?”

  She focused on him. “Yeah, Anne bought me a ticket so I could get here as soon as I could.”

  He stared at their clasped hands, listening to the click-clack of his shoes and the slap of her sandals on the sidewalk. “And why did you want to get here as soon as you could?”

  She swung their hands a bit. “To . . . to prove to you that I’m fighting. That I want this. Us.” Their eyes met. “That this time I believe, want, need to make it last.”

  He’d planned to stop at a deli or restaurant, take her out on the town. But fuck it. Not when she said those words. Those words that he’d been dying to hear.

  He pulled on her arm so she followed him in to the hotel. He strode right for the elevators, walking so fast that Tate had to jog to keep up. Her head was whipping around as she took in the lobby. “Is that a Starbucks?”

  He shoved her into the open elevator doors, thanking everything holy they were the only ones, then backed her against the doors after they shut. He jabbed his finger on the number five, and then cupped her face. “The nice, gentlemanly thing to do right now would be to take you out on the town. Wine and dine you or whatever.” He kissed the corner of her lips, then the other side. “But Tatum, I really need you alone right now. In a bed. Preferably naked.”

  Her soft chuckle washed over his skin as her hands rose and slipped under his suit jacket. “You know me. I’d much rather be alone with you. In a bed. Preferably naked. Than in some stupid restaurant wasting money on some food I’ll forget about in an hour.”

  He laughed and kissed her jaw. She angled her head so he could feast on her neck. “Fuck, I love you,” he mumbled against her skin.

  Her fingers began to pull his shirt from the waist of his pants. “Love you, too.”

  The elevator doors opened behind Tate, and she stumbled backward into the hallway, giggling as Cam wrapped an arm around her waist to keep them upright.

  Luckily, his room was right by the elevator bays, so he swiped his card and then tugged her inside, pushing her up against the wall beside the door to resume what they had been doing in the elevator.

  Tate’s fingers returned to his waist to continue to pull up his shirt when her hands stilled.

  “Cam?”

  He was busy kissing her neck, running his hands along the edge of her panties under her dress, and didn’t want to stop to talk. “What?”

  “Why are you wearing a suit? Are you . . . are you taking the job?”

  He couldn’t stop his fingers, as they caressed the soft skin of her ass. His brain was on that, not on her line of questioning. What did she want to know again? He dipped his head to her collarbone and ran kisses along the skin there. “The job? Oh yeah, I’m taking it.”

  Her body froze beneath his.

  She pushed on his shoulders so he had to raise his head. “You’re . . . you’re taking the job? Here in New York? I thought—”

  Oh, that’s what he said. “No, no, but I’m not working in New York.”

  Her brows knitted. “I’m really confused.”

  He groaned and dropped his forehead onto her shoulder. “Damn it, you wanna talk and all I can think about is that I got you alone in a hotel room with a minibar and room service on the company dime.”

  She pursed her lips, but the ends tipped up so he knew she was trying to hide a smile. “Camilo, please explain.”

  He backed away with a muffled curse and began removing his suit piece by piece, starting with those awful shoes that hurt his feet. Tate followed him as he left a trail of clothing to the bedroom. The hotel room was a suite, with a living area separate from the bedroom.

  “Okay, so you didn’t listen to the whole voice mail, did you?”

  Tate sat down on the end of the bed. “I . . . I don’t remember. I just heard that you turned down the job and—”

  Cam waved a hand as he loosened his tie with the other. “Yeah, let’s not rehash. Anyway, I listened to the whole voice mail, which apparently, you hadn’t done. They said they had a new research job come up that they thought would be perfect for me
based on my skill set and military experience. And the best part is that I could do the job remotely. But they wanted to talk to me in person about it. So I got my ass up here as fast as I could.”

  Tate’s eyes were wide as he kicked off his pants and it wasn’t because he stood there in boxer briefs and a tight white T-shirt. “Wait, remotely?”

  He was done talking. They had things to do before digging into the minibar and calling room service. Things that involved Tate naked in million-thread-count sheets. He put a knee to the bed beside her legs and a hand at her shoulder so she had to lie back on the bed. Although she protested along the way. “Damn it, Cam, explain this to me before I’m naked, please!”

  He reached under her and hauled her up toward the head of the bed, then braced himself above her. He pulled out her hair clip and raised the skirt of her dress up to her waist.

  She shifted her legs and made a small sound in the back of her throat. He groaned at the sight of the pink cotton fabric darkened with her wetness between her legs. He ran his fingers along the top edge of her underwear, watching his hands. “I can do all the research and work I need to do from Paradise. So I can stay there. And we can live in sin, for as long as we want. The door is open in the future for me to move here.”

  He pulled down the side of her underwear and kissed her hip, then finally raised his gaze to hers. She was up on her elbows, staring down at him with wild hair, smeared mascara and wet lips. “Are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack.”

  She sucked in a breath. “So . . . you . . . we . . . this can work.”

  He pulled her underwear down her legs and tossed it over his shoulder. “You bet your ass it’ll work.”

  Lowering himself between her legs, he pushed on her thighs so she opened wider. The soft thump above him let him know she’d collapsed onto the bed, but her body was strung tight so that when he applied that first, long lick, she snapped.

  Tate had never been quiet during sex and now she whimpered and moaned and begged and cried as he spread her with his thumbs and indulged on Tate.