In a few shorts weeks, Tate Washington has walked into my life and turned it upside down. He picked up all of the pieces of my broken heart and made something out of them. Something beautiful. Then he took that something beautiful and smashed it into smithereens.
I can still see it, laying all over Tate’s front step where I left it. I haven’t shed a tear since I ran from his apartment. I’m numb and just . . . empty. I’m not angry, not sad, not hurt, just . . . resigned. Maybe deep down, I knew this day was coming. Maybe I’ve been waiting for it all along.
Every day I tell myself I’m doing the right thing. I am who I am, and if he doesn’t like it he can get stuffed. But in the back of my mind there is this niggling feeling that I’m cutting off my nose to spite my face. That, as all hormone-enraged women do, I am blowing this way out of proportion and making something out of nothing.
If I’d just told Tate I was sorry and I did trust him, would I be living in his apartment by now? Would we be blissfully happy and unaware of this problem between us? The problem of my trust issues and insecurities, and Tate’s problem of having a normal well-balanced girlfriend?
I knock on Brooke and Saxon’s apartment door and am happy for the distraction, glad to be spending the day with my friend, not sitting at home alone crying and mulling over Tate Washington.
The door opens and standing on the other side is a casual Saxon, dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt. I’m well aware of the fact he is stunningly good looking, but it doesn’t take my breath away like it did when I first started working for him at Argo all those years ago.
Now I just look at him as my friend’s fiancé, who enjoys picking on me . . . often. I get a big-brother vibe from him, but it could be the age difference between us, or the fact that I wasn’t blessed with any siblings.
“Hi, Harper.” Saxon smiles. “She’s in the kitchen.” He gestures over his shoulder, rolling his eyes.
“What’s she doing?” Stepping inside the apartment, I return his smile with a curious one.
“I have no idea. I’ve been in my office, but there is shit everywhere, and every now and then I hear her cursing.”
Laughing, I follow him to the kitchen and find Brooke standing behind the sink, her hair a mess and covered in flour from head to toe.
“Harper’s here,” Saxon announces.
“Hi.” Brooke looks up from the counter and beams at me.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I thought I’d do some baking. It didn’t quite turn out exactly like the recipe.” She scowls down at the offending baked goods sitting on her counter. “Stupid Pinterest,” she mutters under her breath.
“Well, that’s okay, we don’t need sweet treats anyway.”
“I figured. So I made margaritas instead.” She raises her cocktail glass towards me.
Smiling widely, I nod eagerly. Alcohol is just what I need to end this shitty week.
“So, what’s happening?” Brooke asks me.
“Not much since I saw you yesterday.” I smile.
“Heard from Tate?” she asks, bluntly. Trust Brooke not to hold back on getting the details.
“No, I haven’t.”
“Are you going to call him?”
“Brooke,” Saxon warns.
“What? I’m just chatting with my friend.” She defends her nosiness. “Are you going to call him?” She turns to me.
Saxon shuffles uncomfortably next to me, so turning to him I ask, “What do you think? Do you think I should be the one calling?”
“No, no, no.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told Tate. I’m not getting involved. It’s none of my business, and this is between you two.”
“You’ve spoken to him?” Brooke and I say at the same time.
“Yes. He was a rambling mess. What have you done to him, Harper?” Saxon smirks at me.
I don’t return his smile. My face scrunches up in thought as I think about the fact Tate spoke to Saxon. About us; about me. He was a rambling mess?
Saxon moves around the counter towards Brooke. “Why don’t you go and sit on the balcony with Harper? It’s a beautiful day. I’ll clean all this up.” Brooke looks up to Saxon with adoring eyes and he smiles softly at her before he leans down and gives her a light kiss on her cheek. God, they are sickening.
Brooke pours another margarita and then refills her own. She throws off her apron and chucks it on the counter before she picks up both glasses and heads towards the balcony. Smiling at Saxon, I grab the whole pitcher to take with us, ignoring his laughter as I follow Brooke out.
We place our items on the small table between the two sun loungers and then make ourselves comfortable.
“The apartment is looking great,” I tell her. Before Brooke moved into Saxon’s apartment it was pretty cold and sterile—all white walls and stark furniture, with no colour or life in the place. Brooke has worked miracles here, and it now feels like a warm, loving home.
“I know. Would you believe that now it finally doesn’t look like a high-class hotel room, Saxon wants to sell it.”
“What? How come?”
“Apparently there’s not enough room here for all the bloody children he wants.” She rolls her eyes.
I laugh at her snideness. After Brooke lost her first husband and they hadn’t had children together, I know she can’t wait to start a family.
“When are you going to start having all these children?” I pick up my drink and take a sip.
“Saxon wants to start now, but I told him not until after the wedding. Of course, now he’s trying to rush that.”
I laugh. “Of course, he is. Have you picked a date yet?”
“No.” She sighs. “I really thought Jeanie would’ve come around by now. It feels wrong doing it without her blessing.”
Jeanie is Brooke’s mother-in-law from her first husband, Nate. Saxon, being Nate’s best friend from childhood, grew up at Nate’s house and with Nate’s parents. Nate’s dad, Mark, is happy for Brooke and Saxon and still sees them both regularly but Jeanie, Nate’s mum, didn’t handle the news of Brooke and Saxon well, and has cut all contact with both of them.
“So, wait. I’m sure she will come around eventually,” I say.
“I don’t want to wait,” Brooke snaps. “I want to marry the man I love. I want to be Mrs. Reed, and I want to start a family with Saxon.”
“Then do it, Brooke. Stuff everyone else and what they think. Do what makes you happy.”
“Are you happy, Harper?” she asks, looking out over the balcony at the busy street below.
“I will be.”
“When you call him,” she states confidently, turning to look at me.
“Brooke,” I warn. “I don’t want to talk about it.” I look away, unable to meet her intense stare.
“Harper, I’ve done the right thing, been the good friend, followed the girl code. I have given you the week to pout, to whine and complain and blame him. Now I’m being honest. Call him.”
“Brooke,” I protest, shocked by her frankness.
“You’re being stubborn. Completely stupid, actually.” She says it so casually, as if she didn’t entirely insult me. “What are you even fighting about, anyway?”
I’m stunned into silence. I have no response.
What are we fighting about? I have been so focused on being angry that I have no idea. Who was wrong? Who was right? Who cares? Is it worth it? Is it worth throwing away the connection we shared? The connection that exceeded anything I had ever felt before?
At the end of the day, what does Tate want from me? Trust. It’s all he’s asking for. And if I really think about it, I do trust him? Completely. I gave him my heart. I gave him my body, soul, and mind, and I gave them willingly, knowing he would care for me with everything he is. And he has. He hasn’t done anything but ask for a clean slate, a fresh start—a chance to prove himself.
“Are you okay, Harper? You look a little pale.” Brooke frowns at me.
&nb
sp; “I think I’m going to be sick.” I place my hand over my mouth. “I have to go.”
Standing up from the loveseat, I don’t even say goodbye as I determinedly make my way inside.
I’ve let the measures of all those who came before affect my emotions. Affect my actions and now I feel stupid, embarrassed, and ashamed. How am I going to fix this?
I have no idea, but I know I have to.
“Everything okay?” Saxon asks as I pass the kitchen where he is cleaning Brooke’s mess. I give him a half-hearted wave over my shoulder as I keep my pace to exit the apartment.
I have no idea what I’m doing, no idea what he’ll say, what his reaction to me will be, but I’m heading towards the café and I know I have some things I need to say. Things he needs to hear, whether he forgives me or not.
Mindlessly, I walk up to the building and peer into the window, seeing Maurice waving his arms around. I give him a small wave and sad smile. He gestures for me to come inside, and I don’t even think twice as I make my way to the entrance.
“Oh Daisy, you are back. We’ve missed you. Where have you been?”
“Oh . . .” I pause, not sure how much he knows and how much I should say. “I’ve been really busy at the gallery.” I smile awkwardly, hoping he doesn’t question me.
“Ah.” He nods with a small smirk. “Tate must be missing you. Must be the reason for his bad mood this week.” He winks, and my heart lightens with this revelation. Tate is moody. Moody and miserable, hopefully. Hopefully he’ll forgive me for my ridiculous actions this week.
“Is he here?”
“Tate? No, he hasn’t come in too much this week. I think he has been helping Lana with her house.” I nod as if I have some idea of what he is talking about.
“I might head upstairs then,” I tell him.
“Hang on, hang on.” He rushes to the kitchen.
I follow behind, unsure of what he could be doing.
When I enter the kitchen, Maurice is running around like a headless chicken. Food and containers are flying everywhere, and I look on in puzzlement.
“Here, take this food up for everybody. You can reheat it for dinner.” Maurice fills my arms with bags and containers full of an arrangement of foods, and I nod eagerly. There is no arguing with this strong-willed man.
Maurice smiles down at me before he leans in and gives me a soft kiss on my forehead.
I smile up at him and he pulls back, and for the first time this week, my smile is genuine.
Thanking him, I head out of the café, balancing all the food in my arms as I go. When I turn the corner and see Tate’s stairs, my body freezes. I’m suddenly not as confident as I was on my way here. Maybe I was too numb for the nerves.
Shaking my head clear of any negative thoughts, I head towards the stairs, not stopping as I climb them, taking them two at a time. I don’t pause to think as I kick his door, my hands full of food.
Waiting for what feels like forever, I go to the kick the door again, perhaps more viciously as it swings open and my foot meets Lana’s shin.
“Oh, my God,” she screams, clutching at her leg and rubbing it fiercely.
“Oh, my God,” I repeat, absolutely mortified. I can’t believe I kicked Tate’s sister. Like I didn’t embarrass myself enough in front of her the other day. “I’m so sorry. I was just . . . just going to knock again.” I bite my bottom lip.
“With your foot?” she screeches.
Lifting the food in my arms, I show her I really have a legitimate reason to be kicking down the door.
“Delivering food again, Harper?”
Heat rises in my cheeks and I give her an awkward smile.
“Is that Maurice’s vegetarian lasagne you have there?” She sniffs the air between us.
“A peace offering?” I quirk my eyebrow and hold the food towards her.
She nods as she takes the containers and bags out of my arms and heads inside. She doesn’t say anything, and I’m not sure whether I should follow her. Standing on the step, uncertain, I look around, not sure what I’m hoping to see before I decide to go inside.
Lana is unpacking the bags and containers onto the kitchen counter and doesn’t acknowledge me as I step inside the apartment and close the door behind me. My eyes dance around and I know what they are looking for. Or who they are looking for.
“Tate’s not here.” And apparently Lana knows, too.
My shoulders drop and I release a small breath as I realise I’ve bought myself more time before I have to face him. It also means I can deal with his sister without him around, distracting me and muddling my thoughts.
“I’m really sorry about the other day,” I tell her.
“You don’t have to apologise to me. If I’d rocked up at my boyfriend’s apartment after he had blown me off and found a half-naked woman there, I would’ve done the same thing.” She finally turns around to face me. “It’s what you did after which baffles me.”
Lana’s eyes narrow on me and warmth floods my cheeks. I’m so embarrassed and humiliated. This is not how I wanted our first meeting to go, and it’s definitely not how I wanted his sister’s first impression of me to be. Tate’s sister, his only family, and this is how I present myself.
“Tate loves you, you know.”
“I know.” I look down ashamed.
“He didn’t have to tell me.” She turns back to dishing out the food. “This is the happiest he has been in years, and I know it has everything to do with you.”
My heart drops, and I’m glad Lana isn’t facing me as I’m sure my face drops, too. What the fuck have I done? I’m the happiest I have been in years. Tate Washington is the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I was willing to throw it all away to keep my pride.
“Come and chat with me,” Lana says, turning to carry two plates of food to the table.
Moving towards the table, I think of all the ways I can get Tate to forgive me.
Fuck my pride. I’ll get down on my knees and beg if I have to. I’m not losing him.
My impromptu meal with Lana did not turn out how I expected. At first she seemed . . . cold, a bitch actually, but after chatting with her for a bit, I soon realised she is actually the complete opposite. She is so sweet-natured and kind-hearted. She reminds me a lot of Brooke, and I have already set up a girls’ day out for the three of us.
I admire the tough stance she took to begin with. Tate is her baby brother, and she is fiercely protective of him. Once I explained my neurotic behaviour and past issues, she could genuinely see how much I loved her brother and sometimes—well sometimes, people fuck up.
Lana was quite forthcoming about their childhood and what they both endured with their parents’ death. She was much more vague on her current situation, though. She enlightened me about the fire that had recently rendered her homeless, hence her living situation with Tate, but was reluctant to talk about her current relationship status or lack thereof. I’ll give her a little bit more time to get to know me before I start probing like a good friend would.
The taxi pulls up in front of my apartment and I realise I have been in my own little world the whole ride here. Paying the driver, I then subconsciously enter my building, not really focusing on what I’m doing. Routinely I check my mailbox and grab any letters and the local paper, and head to my apartment.
The sight of Tate sitting against my door causes my body to freeze. He’s leaning back, his arms resting on his bent knees and his head buried against them. I catch a deep breath and take him all in. God, I’ve missed him.
Leaning his head back against the door, he must catch me in his peripheral vision as his eyes shoot to mine. His gaze roams over me and my body stands at attention from his intense stare.
We watch each other for what feels like minutes, neither one of us moving an inch. Finally, I relent and give him a small, imperceptible smile.
The corner of his mouth tips up and his eyes soften. “I’m not liking how many times I’ve found myself sitting at this
door, Daisy.”
Closing my eyes momentarily, I enjoy my special nickname rolling off his lips. His perfect lips, which I can’t look away from, and can only think about having against my own again.
He gets up off the floor and is in front of me in three strides.
“Tate, I’m so—”
“Stop,” he interrupts me. “I shouldn’t have threatened you. I knew you had trust issues when I met you, and I shouldn’t have used them against you.”
“Tate . . .”
“No, Harper. You were right. My text message was bullshit, and you had every right to react the way you did.”
“I shouldn’t have said—”
“Harper.” He reaches out and places his hand on my cheek. “I tried to walk away, but I can’t. Can’t even fathom it. I don’t just love you; I need you. Need you to even breathe.” He steps forward, aligning our bodies chest to chest. “I can’t live without you, Daisy. So I guess I’ll just have to make you trust me.” He smiles his sweet smile, and I return it before stepping up onto my tiptoes and placing my lips on his.
Tate slides his arms around my waist and pulls me up against him. I go willingly and wrap my legs around him. Pulling back from the kiss, he nibbles and sucks on my bottom lip.
“I’ll make you trust me, Harper. I’ll earn it,” he whispers against my mouth.
“You don’t have to earn it. You have. I do trust you, Tate. I had a moment of crazy, and I promise I’ll never punish you for what those assholes did to me again.”
He closes his eyes and releases a soft breath. “Just don’t push me away, Harper, because you’re worried about what might happen in the future. I get your fears and I understand your insecurities, but I can’t take you pushing me away.”
“I promise I will never throw what we have away again.” I hold him tighter and pull him closer, unable to get near enough to believe this is real—that after everything he came for me.
“Good, because it’s pretty special, and I just don’t think you’ll find it online.” Tate smirks and my body relaxes at seeing him happy again.
Whatever You Do Page 24