Despite my avoidance over the last few weeks, it had pained me to think I might never feel her lips on mine again. But now that I had been given a second chance, now that I’d seen her through restored sight, I never wanted to spend one more day of my life unsure if a next time existed.
Regardless of the lies we’d tried to tell ourselves, the truth had been there all along.
If we hadn’t been too busy looking everywhere else, we might’ve seen what was right in front of us. The glaring signs, the indisputable proof. And now that I no longer fought it, I refused to go back; I refused to be blind again.
When I pulled away just enough to catch my breath, the sight of her flushed cheeks and dazed, glassy eyes filled me with satisfaction and contentment. But then she became aware of our surroundings, like it had smacked her in the face. She stepped away with her sights on our captivated audience instead of me. She was withdrawing again, and I wasn’t about to let that happen.
“Come with me.” I grabbed her hand before she could get too far away and led her toward the patio.
Out of my peripheral vision, I could see mouths hanging open, questioning glances between each other. And as I passed the bewildered women of my family, I heard gasps and whispers. One thing was for sure, though; within those subtle actions, I felt assured of their excitement.
“What are you doing?” Tatum asked breathlessly once we stepped into the kitchen.
I glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one had decided to join us and then closed the sliding door. My desire to kiss her again was almost uncontrollable, but my need to understand whatever this was superseded all else.
“Well, you wouldn’t return my texts or answer my calls, so I guess if I want you to talk to me, I have to make you.” I stood in front of the door, blocking the exit in the event she tried to avoid this conversation.
However, she didn’t attempt to go anywhere. Other than blinking at me, she remained still, frozen in place, shock immobilizing her expression.
“I don’t know where to begin,” I confessed, not caring how desperate I sounded. “Hell, I’m not sure what to even say, other than I’m sorry for the way I left. But I don’t want to rehash that. The fact that I was hurt and felt betrayed doesn’t change anything, nor does it excuse much. Can we just skip over that and go straight to the part where we figure out what to do now?”
Finally, she snapped out of the spell she’d been under and shook her head. “Hold up, Jason. What do you mean I wouldn’t text you back or answer your calls? I’ve spent over two weeks waiting to hear something from you, yet all you’ve given me is a cold shoulder.”
“What? No. I sent you two messages early in the week, and then after I watched the footage of the news show, I called you twice—both times I was sent to voice mail. Maybe I waited too long, and if that’s the case, I’m sorry. I fucked up. I’ll be the first to admit it, but please, don’t shut me out without talking to me first.” I didn’t miss the irony of this—waiting too long, reaching out weeks later, begging for her to have a discussion before closing the door on us.
But luckily, Tatum didn’t see that—or if she did, she didn’t use it as a weapon against me. Instead, she regarded me with utter confusion and defensiveness. “Jay, I never got them. I don’t know what messages you’re even talking about. When did you send them?”
“The texts? Monday. One was sometime in the evening, and then another at midnight.”
She closed her eyes for a moment while she pulled in a deep breath. When she opened them again, resignation dulled the typical sparkle I’d grown used to seeing. “Well, since you apparently know what happened during filming . . . my cell was among the casualties in the fire. I didn’t get it replaced until Tuesday. There are quite a few messages floating around in space that never made it to the new phone . . . as well as contacts that never synced. Not that you’d feel better knowing you weren’t alone or anything.”
“What about when I called on Wednesday?”
“What time was that?”
I didn’t need to think about it; I knew the exact times of both calls. “Just before five, and then again at nine.”
“I was at the restaurant. In order to get tonight off so I didn’t have to rush through lunch, I swapped with someone. I had the dinner shift on Wednesday. And I didn’t send you to voice mail—my phone was off and in the car, just in case another pan decided to explode for absolutely no reason at all.”
We couldn’t have been more than a few feet apart, but I closed the distance and pressed my palms to her cheeks, needing her close to me. “Seriously? I’ve gone all week thinking you had said enough is enough. I was a nervous fucking wreck on my way here today.”
Tatum wrapped her delicate fingers around my wrists like she never wanted me to let her go. And when her eyes met mine, I realized I never wanted to let go. She licked her lips and said, “Imagine how I felt. I’ve had to go all week knowing you went to see Jen.”
A sigh forced its way out as I dropped my forehead to hers. “That’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. I went to Vegas, yes. And I saw Jen . . . briefly. I made the trip because my old boss died, so I went for his funeral, and while I was there, I stopped by the house to get a couple things I had left when I moved.”
“You don’t owe me an explanation, Jay.”
“You’re right . . . I don’t. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve one.” I lost myself in the openness of her eyes, and as if stargazing, I could see the specks of happiness shimmer in the obsidian pools. “When Kelsey asked me about it last week, I was running on no sleep and she’d just finished twisting me up into a hundred knots. I answered the basic question: had I seen Jen. Which I had. But I wasn’t in the right headspace to clear up any confusion. I’m so sorry.”
She fisted her hands in my shirt, lifting herself onto the balls of her feet while dragging my lips to hers. It was a soft kiss, yet full of feeling and unspoken words. It would be easy to accept this as a truce, but I needed more.
I needed it all.
“Do you think we can move past this?” I whispered across her lips.
“I’m not the one who’s opposed to second chances, Jay.”
“And I’ve never wanted to offer one before. So I guess we’re both lost.”
“I’m more than willing to have a conversation about it once we leave here.” She handed me an olive branch, and there was no way I would turn that down.
“Deal. Just as long as you’re aware that the second the food is gone, so are we.”
She giggled and pulled her head away to see my whole face. “Once the kitchen is cleaned, we can go.”
Damn . . . bossy Tatum was hot.
Just then, the slider opened, causing Tatum and me to separate.
Kelsey joined us, though she didn’t seem too interested in what we were doing. Instead, she found the wrapped gift on the counter and wouldn’t shut up until Tatum opened it. She shot me a death glare while Kelsey peered over her shoulder, deeply confused by what it meant.
“Is this for real?” Kelsey snatched it from her hands and looked closer. “Why would someone name their cookbook Burnin’ Down the Kitchen? I mean, it’s catchy; don’t get me wrong. And the flaming pan is a nice touch—very colorful.”
Tatum just dropped her chin, shaking her head while my cousin opened the book. I had about three seconds to say my final goodbyes to my mom.
“Oh, this one looks good, Tater—it’s called Cheesy Kisses.” Kelsey continued to flip, though I didn’t dare take my eyes off Tatum, who now stood almost rigid and suspect. It wasn’t until Kelsey called out another title that they both became clued in on what it was.
“I’ll Scream Your Name Root?” Mom entered, hearing our conversation, and peeked over Kelsey’s shoulder. “That sounds like a fun dish.”
Tatum yanked the book from my cousin’s hands and held it protectively against her chest.
“What’s with the title of the book?” It was clear even Kelsey didn’t know w
hat had really happened at the studio.
“It’s a well-known kitchen phrase.” And then Tatum spent the next thirty minutes hiding in the bathroom.
I loved my family, but if they had tried to keep us there for one more second, a war would’ve been waged in their living room. I couldn’t get out of there and drive home fast enough.
Tatum walked into my house like she’d never been there before—timid and a bit cautious. But just like the first time she’d come over, I ignored the awkwardness and eased her into it with a glass of wine.
She took it from my hand and eyed me with a smile playing on her lips. “If you think this will make up for the cookbook incident, you aren’t even close, buddy.”
“Oh, you’re bringing up the cookbook?” I followed her to the kitchen table, slightly upset that she didn’t climb onto the counter like she had done so many times before. “Does this mean you’re ready to explain why you haven’t told anyone about your flaming good time on set?”
Some people had this incredible skill to flick someone off with a simple facial expression—Tatum was one of those people. The way she pulled her pursed lips to one side, arched just one brow, and squinted only one eye, I wouldn’t be surprised if a ninety-year-old man two towns over heard that bird get shot.
“I take it that’s a no.” Dammit.
“Correct. I’d much rather talk about us and get it all out on the table.”
“It’s not too late to forget it all happened, you know.”
“I don’t want to rehash it or anything.” She defended herself with a slight roll of her eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t have questions.”
“Okay.” I prepared myself for the worst yet prayed for the best. “I’m ready when you are.”
She took a few sips of the wine and got comfortable in her chair. Then she reassured me by meeting my gaze, right before voicing her first question. “What’s going on with Jen? Like, where do you guys stand with each other?”
“I told her I didn’t think it would do us any good to try and fix something that’s broken. I explained my thoughts and feelings to her, she said she understood where I was coming from, and then we didn’t speak again until she pulled into the driveway while I was locking the front door.”
She nodded in contemplation for a moment. “What were your reasons?”
Oh hell. I cleared my throat and sat forward with my hands clasped between us on the table. “She wanted to come here and try to work things out, but I struggled to give her an answer. I worried I’d be turning my back on my future if I didn’t at least see if we were salvageable. But after everything that happened with you that day, I realized my inability to make a decision was because I didn’t want to give you up. If I tried to figure things out with her, I would’ve had to put an end to us.”
“But you just said that was after you left my apartment. Your mind was already made up about me, so you wouldn’t have had to choose. Why tell her no if I wasn’t part of the equation anymore?”
“Well, the two biggest and most important reasons weren’t contingent on you or us. The first should’ve been obvious—if we truly were meant to be, I wouldn’t have thought twice about ending what you and I had. And the other had to do with walking in and seeing you in another man’s shirt.”
She balked. “Why?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt more territorial than I did in that moment. And during my drive home, I began to wonder if I would’ve been that pissed if you were Jen. The sad thing is . . . I don’t think I would’ve been.”
“Really?” Her tone was barely audible.
“Yeah. And silly me, I carried on for the next two weeks like a blind fool.”
“What do you mean?” Oh, she knew where I was going with this, but the glint in her eyes told me she needed to hear me say it.
I fought my grin long enough to answer. “I was hurt over the whole situation, and when I’m hurt, I tend to react angrily. I understood and admitted to myself that I hadn’t wanted to give you up for Jen, and that seeing you in that asshole’s shirt made me want to tear his limbs from his body . . . but I ignored what it meant. Then last week, I started to come around, but you weren’t returning my texts, so again, I wasn’t thinking we stood much of a chance.”
“But you still came today? Why?”
“I guess I hoped for some sort of resolution. The idea of us avoiding each other and not speaking didn’t sit well with me. Honestly, I didn’t care how we fit into each other’s lives. What mattered to me was that we did.”
She brought her wineglass to her lips, trying to hide the mirth that played on them, but it didn’t work because she didn’t cover her eyes. “Um, Jay . . .” She swallowed again. “You said about four words to me—two of which were fuck it—and then you kissed me. In front of your entire family. That’s how you resolve things? By attacking people’s faces with your mouth?”
I could’ve played it off or let her think whatever she wanted. But I had no desire to hide anything from her. “You see, my original plan was to say hi and find out how you were doing, start a little small talk, and see where it went. I would’ve settled for friends, but I had aimed for more. And then I saw you. Right before I walked outside, I watched you laugh with my mom, smile at your best friend, just being you. That’s when the plan changed.”
“See? I always knew that you had it all wrong,” she teased with feigned arrogance. “You just can’t admit how much I affect you.”
“That’s where you’re wrong . . . because I can admit it. I’m fully aware that you have absolute control over every beat of my heart, every breath I take. I can admit that my every smile was created with the sole purpose of giving them to you.” I held her unwavering, stunned gaze for a long beat before adding, “And when you’re not around, I’m nothing. That’s how much you affect me, Tatum.”
25
Tatum
“The very first time I saw you, I’m fairly certain I ovulated.” Had I not paid attention to his facial expressions, I might not have realized how confusing that statement was—which would’ve been embarrassing. “I mean . . . you were so gorgeous that my body ignored its natural cycle out of desperation to mate with you. I was basically a cat in heat.”
His slow nods made me pause, wondering what I had messed up this time.
Highly important fact: The word mate should never be used in reference to humans. Unless you’re Australian. Oh, and never compare yourself to a cat in heat.
“Let me start over.”
Jay reached across the table and covered my hand with his. “No need. I think I understand what you’re saying—you thought I was hot. We can come back to the rest of that later. Maybe. Although, let’s not.”
“Yeah. Okay, that’s a good idea. Moving on.” My heart raced, which didn’t help my state of mind at all. On the positive side, if things got any worse, I could just clutch my chest and get out of the rest of it. “I used to stare at our picture all the time. Well, I stared at you, but it was of us. Anyway. Before we ever started anything, I would get myself off while looking at your face. Technically, it was more like your profile, considering you were kind of sitting sideways—”
“Tatum . . .” He cleared his throat and shifted slightly in his seat. “The part about you getting yourself off is all that matters. Got it? So let’s get back to that.”
“Right. Well, once we started sleeping together, I didn’t exactly need the picture anymore. But when you left, and I didn’t have you to do it for me, I tried again. I missed you, and I wanted to feel good—technically, I wanted to feel closer to you, but that probably makes me sound crazy.”
“Nope, just keep going, Tatum.”
“Anyway, I missed you, so I went back to what I did before you got in my pants. Except it wasn’t enjoyable anymore.”
Jason dropped his forehead to the table and groaned.
“Oh, no. It had nothing to do with you.” I patted his arm and waited for him to sit up again so I could continue. “I mean
, it kind of did, but not in that way.”
He stared at me for a while, his eyes growing bigger as the seconds passed. “Tatum! Babe, you can’t end a sentence like that. It kind of had to do with me but not that way? What?”
“Maybe if you stopped interrupting me, I could be done by now.”
He rolled his wrist in the “carry on” gesture.
“What I’m trying to say is . . . when I think about you, almost all the memories involve one or both of us naked. But when I don’t think about you, none of that comes to mind.”
He stared at me, blinking rapidly. So, I tried again.
“There are times you cross my mind, unexpectedly. I’ll be putting a cup in the dishwasher and just stop, overcome with the memory of how you used to always make sure I had a glass of water next to the bed at night. Or I’ll get in my car and the stereo is up too loud, and before I know it, my mind goes back to that story you told me about how you wanted to grow up to be a Hanson brother.”
Pausing to see if his reaction changed, I stared into his eyes and prayed he could sift through the words and find what I had meant to say. His expression did soften some, although he still appeared rather lost.
I huffed, on the verge of giving up but choosing to try one last time. “The best of you resides in my chest. It lives in my heart and keeps it beating—for you. I told you that I wasn’t looking for a relationship, and that was true. I wasn’t. I didn’t want one. My heart was broken, and the last thing I needed was someone else to come in and destroy what was left of it. And apparently, when I wasn’t paying attention, you slipped through those broken pieces, but rather than make it worse, you made it better. You stitched up the cracks and made it whole again . . . from the inside.”
He stood, sending his chair flying behind him, and at the same time, he shifted the table out of his way—not far, but enough to give him room to pull me out of my seat. And then his mouth captured mine.
We’d been here a few times before, so I already knew what to expect.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and counted to three. He had me off the floor by one and through his bedroom doorway by three. And the second he had me on his bed, his body hovering over mine, there was no such thing as numbers or counting.
The (Half) Truth Page 31