by Emma Renshaw
Isabella groans, flipping to her back again dramatically. "He's not the love of your life."
"I've been in love with him for almost half my life. If that's not the love of my life, then I don't know what is. I need him to be the love of my life because if I wasted that amount of time on him and he isn’t the love of my life? What the hell does that say about me? How could I waste that much time? I don’t even want to be with him anymore, but I can’t even think about the time I wasted on…on…on some guy because that’s all he is now. Just some freaking guy.” I slam the drawer where I just pulled a new pair of panties from.
"Tate," Isabella whispers, trying to get me to look at her.
A fresh wave of unwanted tears floods my eyes. My pink polished toes are becoming blurry. I suck in a giant breath, blinking rapidly. "Help me pick an outfit," I say, finally looking into the camera again.
There're tears in her eyes, too. We've been so close most of our lives, that we feel each other's pain. Every time she cries, so do I. And vice versa.
She looks like she's about to say something, but I cut her off before she has the chance. "Please, Iz. When you look good, you feel good. Help me look good."
After a moment, she nods once before a slow smirk slides across her face and excitement lights up her eyes. Isabella tells me exactly what to change into. It's sexier than I would have picked for myself, but it gives me the confidence boost I'm looking for.
As I'm swiping on the last touch of lipstick, Isabella speaks. "Have fun tonight. Be safe. Make new friends. Just don't make a new best friend."
"Thanks," I say, smiling and fluffing my auburn hair.
"I mean it, you can't replace me. I'm your best friend. I'll tackle a bitch that tries to take my spot."
"Noted," I say, chuckling. I couldn't ever replace Isabella. We hang up, and I take a few steadying breaths before I head out to what I'm hoping will be a great night.
Chapter 11
James
My hands curl into fists and release several times before I fling the door of The Cellar open. I don't know what kind of car Tatum drives, so I don't know if she's here yet, or if she followed Savannah’s advice and took an Uber. I'm not quite prepared to see her. Annoyance bristles in my gut when I spot Savannah and Liam sitting with Harper and Roman.
Our group has grown a lot in the past year or so, and it's about all I can handle. Throw Tatum into that mix? I know it's not going to be a good night for me. Keeping a stoic face is usually the easiest thing in the world, but Tatum grates on every last nerve, making me want to explode.
My ass lands hard in the seat across from Savannah. She turns her face away from Liam's to smile at me, a smile I don't return. Not even a glimpse of a smile.
"Puddin' pop," Savannah says brightly, squeezing my hand resting on the table. I slide it out from beneath hers, bringing my hands to my lap and continuing to glower at her.
Savannah's smile widens when I remain silent. Liam chuckles, looking at her like she's the cutest thing in the fucking world. Usually, I agree with him about Savannah, but right now she's the meddling little sister I definitely don't need. Growing up without a family means I missed out on a lot. Having a meddling little sister is one aspect I could keep going without. Every wish I dared to make as a kid was about having a family. I eventually stopped making those wishes.
"Don't be mad," Savannah urges.
"Why would he be mad at you?" Harper asks.
My gaze swings to her and Roman, whose eyebrow is quirked.
"I invited James’s physical therapist to come out with us. I met her today. She's great," Savannah says.
"The one who annoys you? The one you want to strangle?" Roman asks.
"Yep." My one answer doesn't hide the irritation I'm feeling.
"Like a setup?" Harper asks, watching me with a slight smile. Christ. These women.
"Better not be a fuckin' setup," I hiss at Savannah.
"Not a setup," Savannah raises her hands in front of her, trying to calm me down.
"Wouldn't be a bad thing," Liam chimes in. "She's cute."
"She's more than cute," Savannah says, looking at Harper. "She is hot. You'll love her. She's fun and feisty."
I roll my eyes. Tatum is feisty, but unless you'd call getting pricked by a porcupine fun, that's the last adjective I'd use for her.
"Better not be a setup," I mutter again.
"It's not. Would that really be so bad, though?" Savannah asks.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"She's my PT. And I like not having attachments."
Savannah's smile curves down into a frown.
My hard resolve to stay angry at her slips away. "Didn't mean it like that."
Savannah nods as Liam leans over to kiss her shoulder. "I didn't do it to set you up, James. I just like her. She seems fun."
Right. Lots of fun.
The front door of the bar swings open, the sun pouring inside. It's still so bright out, even though it's late evening. I can't see anything but a silhouette, but I know it's her. It's like we're in some goddamn romantic comedy and the spotlight is shining just for her. As the door swings closed behind her, I curse under my breath.
"There she is," Savannah says, waving her arm above her head.
"That's a shirt from my boutique," Harper says excitedly. "I like her already. She is freaking gorgeous."
The fact that she is so beautiful only makes her more annoying. The hold on my beer bottle tightens to a white-knuckled grip as she walks closer to our table. I have to clench my teeth so hard to keep my jaw shut, otherwise it would fall to the floor watching her hips sway as she walks toward us. Tatum's long auburn hair is curled and a little wild around her face, and her piercing blue eyes land on each person at our table, bouncing back to me each time. Long, slender legs are in dark jeans that hug her small curves perfectly. Her breasts are perfectly framed in the low-cut V with cutouts along the edge showcasing more of her skin. There isn't anything obscene about her outfit, but she looks like temptation.
I bring my beer bottle to my lips, guzzling down the almost full bottle. She stops next to our table with a shy smile. As much as I tell myself to look away from her, I can't.
Savannah stands, giving Tatum a tight hug. "Glad you made it."
Tatum's gaze lands on me over Savannah's shoulder, giving me a small, timid smile. I incline my head in return.
Liam stands next, giving Tatum a hug, as well, before Savannah introduces her to Roman and Harper. Roman smirks at me over his beer bottle, chuckling to himself while shaking his head.
Tatum awkwardly glances around the table at the empty seats, trying to decide where to sit. The couples are on one side as I sit across from them. Since the others aren't here yet, it'd be awkward as fuck if she sat anywhere except on either side of me. I kick out the chair on my left, indicating to it with my now empty beer bottle.
She hesitates, staring into my eyes while chewing on her bottom lip. Finally, she sits next to me, clutching her purse in her lap. "Hi," she says quietly, looking at me with those glacier blue eyes through her long lashes. Fuck.
"Hey," I say, almost as softly.
Owen, our usual waiter, appears. He doesn't look at anyone at the table except for Tatum. She orders a glass of wine, and I order another beer and a bourbon.
After Owen walks away, Tatum launches into a conversation, never one to be quiet for long. She murmurs to herself throughout our physical therapy appointments, trying to get me to talk to her. When I don't, she just talks to herself.
"Harper, you look really familiar," Tatum says.
"Your top is from my boutique, Harper Avenue," Harper responds, beaming.
"That's your store? I love it! Are you moving locations? I drove by the other week and it was closed."
Roman tenses next to Harper. It's only been a couple months since their entire worlds were turned upside down by a half brother Roman never knew existed. Harper's store was collateral in the fallout of that shitstorm. She's be
en operating business online but hasn't found a space to rent.
"Long story," Harper hedges.
Tatum's back straightens as she starts shaking her head softly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. That's none of my business."
Harper smiles. "No, it's okay, really. I'm looking for a new place, but everything is online now. I love that top on you. The flared sleeves and details along the neckline are perfect!"
Perfectly tempting.
Perfectly inviting.
"Thank you. That's great to hear about your store," Tatum says, but she is still clutching the purse in her lap, and when Owen drops off her wine, her small hand shakes slightly as she reaches for the glass.
Tatum doesn't seem like a person who gets nervous, and I don't know why she's nervous right now. Or if it's me who’s making her uncomfortable. I've barely looked anywhere else but at her profile since she sat down.
Hudson's voice as he approaches makes me break my stare so I can glare at him. "It's not my birthday yet, guys. This pretty lady sure is a great present, though," he says, winking at Tatum. He sits on the other side of her. I reach around, popping him on the back of his head.
"Quit being an ass," I grumble.
"Touchy, touchy," Hudson says, grinning. "I'm Hudson." He sticks out his hand for Tatum to shake, but brings it to his lips while looking at me. I know he's trying to get a rise out of me, but I won't take the bait. I also know that it will only get worse when he finds out who she is.
"Tatum," she replies softly.
"And how did we get so lucky to be graced by your presence?"
Savannah answers. "She's James’s physical therapist. I met her today and invited her out."
Hudson's grin widens, and his eyes fucking sparkle when he looks at me over her shoulder. I know he's replaying our conversation about Tatum in his head. "Lucky us."
Tatum's head cocks while tugging her hand back to her lap. "Are you always like this?"
"Irresistible?" Hudson asks, tearing his gaze away from me and winking at Tatum.
"Arrogant," Tatum replies.
The entire table (except for me) erupts in peals of laughter. Even Hudson has his head thrown back laughing. I'm too busy staring into Tatum's eyes to laugh.
She turns back toward me, gauging my reaction. "Sorry," she murmurs quietly enough that only I can hear while everyone else is still laughing and giving Hudson shit.
"For what?"
"For being rude to your friend."
I shake my head. "Not rude. He needed to be knocked down a few pegs. Probably needs a few more."
She chuckles. "Good."
"If you didn't do that, he'd probably keep hitting on you." The words tumble past my lips before I can stop them. Normally I wouldn't continue the conversation.
"And now he won't."
I shake my head. "No, now he respects you and probably will want to be your friend. He's a one-night-only kind of guy. He'd never jeopardize a friendship for that."
"Good to know. Though I may turn into a one-night kind of girl," she says wryly.
My chest clenches. "Not looking for a boyfriend?"
"Nope."
I wonder if I read the situation wrong and if her remark was banter with Hudson. Maybe she's actually interested. It makes me uncomfortable to think about, but I have no claim on her. "While he won't make you uncomfortable, I'm sure he wouldn't deny you if that's what you want."
"It's not," she says firmly. "I don't want to hook up with your friends. I like them. I could use some new friends."
I nod, unsure of what else to say, and frustrated that the uneasiness left my gut when she admitted she didn't want to hook up with Hudson.
"Are you upset I'm here?" she asks.
"No," I answer honestly. "I'm not."
Chapter 12
Tatum
I'm sandwiched between two of the most gorgeous men I've ever seen. Neither one is quite my type. This whole group is something I'm not exactly used to being around, but I'm loving every single second—especially the heat radiating off both men on either side of me.
I could also be drunk.
Possibly.
Maybe.
Which was not the plan. I decided not to use Uber and take my own car. I hoped that would keep my in line, but no such luck. My face is tingling and I can’t feel my lips or nose.
Yes, I could be drunk.
Maybe just slightly.
James’s words earlier were right. Hudson is a shameless flirt, but he's not hitting on me. I got up to go to the bathroom after James admitted he didn't mind that I was here. When I returned, James was leaning over my chair whispering furiously to Hudson.
Hudson frowned when I sat down looking contrite, immediately filling me in, much to James’s dismay. "James said that I can't mess around with his PT." Hudson rolls his eyes before winking at me.
And just like that, he becomes one of my favorite people. Making James turn red could quite possibly be my new favorite hobby.
"If a night with you will piss this big guy off," I say, pointing over my shoulder toward James, "then you may just be worth it."
Hudson grins wickedly. "It would definitely make him mad. Have you ever seen him mad? Give me a kiss, let’s test it."
I giggle and think about if I’ve ever seen James mad. I don't think so. I've seen him frustrated and irritated, but not mad. The level of heat that comes to his cheeks is how I measure his irritation with me. I glance over my shoulder, finding those stone-gray eyes glaring at me, which only makes this more fun. "What shade of red does he turn?"
"I think you just became my favorite person," Hudson says.
I wink at him. "Likewise."
At that moment, another insanely attractive guy plops down at our table. He pushes his dark blond hair back with a large hand before his mossy green eyes land on me. Savannah introduces him as Kiernan. The last two seats at the table are filled by another couple—Valerie and Gabe.
Each of them is so wonderful, and I'm so happy I met Savannah. This group feels like they could truly become my friends. I could have friends that don't even know Patrick exists. I won't see pity in any of their eyes or get the sad head tilts asking if I'm okay. I've been stuck in a rut for so long, it's nice to be somewhere new.
The table is filled with food and empty drink glasses. Valerie and I are drinking enough for Savannah and Harper since they're pregnant. James switched to water not long ago, earning him some heckling from Hudson and me.
"Are you always so growly?" I ask him, crinkling my nose.
"Someone's going to have to drive you home," he responds dryly.
A shock zaps through my system, imagining myself alone in a tightly enclosed space with James. He overwhelms me in a large room, which means he'll decimate me in a car when we're alone.
"I'll take her home," Kiernan says, leaning around Hudson to wink at me. With all these men winking at me, they could really make me dizzy.
James huffs. There's a slight undertone of pink in his cheeks. A grin slides over my face, wondering how much worse I can make it.
"Don't even think about it," James growls in a low tone, only meant for me to hear.
"Jealous?" I taunt quietly, swaying toward him.
He sucks in a deep breath before blowing it out and leans toward me, giving me as good as I give him. "Never."
One word and my frustration level rises through the roof. It's not even like I want to make him jealous, but for him to rub my face in the fact that he's clearly out of my league stings.
As red as I can make him, I know he can match it on me. It's like this when we're trying to one-up the other.
"If it's not one of your friends, I'm sure I can find another guy in the bar to take me home."
"I'd rather make sure you get home safely."
"Why?" I ask.
"I really don't want to be with that other idiot PT again."
I roll my eyes, turning back to the group and immersing myself in the conversation. James stays mostly silent exc
ept when we're verbally sparring back and forth. I can feel every eye at the table on us when that happens. And when I turn back toward them, each of them is sporting a grin.
James hasn't smiled or laughed once. I've seen his lips twitch and his eyes light up in amusement, but mostly he keeps his stoic mask on the entire time.
When Owen comes around, dropping off the checks, I'm confused when he doesn't place one in front of me.
"It's been taken care of, sweetheart," Owen replies after I ask him.
In my drunken state, I immediately turn toward James. His cheeks are slightly pink, giving himself away, but he's avoiding my eyes.
"James," I say, hoping it sounds clear, but could be coming out a slurred mess.
He glances up at me then back at the receipt in front of him, placing cash on top of it.
"Did you pay for me?" I ask.
He shrugs, refusing to look my way.
"Why?"
"My shoulder is feeling good. No big deal, Tatum."
"Tate," I correct automatically. "I really wish you would call me Tate."
Everyone stands from the table. James walks around, hugging the girls and tapping fists with the guys. "Let's go, Tatum. I'll bring you home. You can't drive."
He's right. I can't drive. I'll have to figure out a way to get my car home tomorrow, but for tonight, I'll be in the passenger seat of James’s car.
I say goodbye to everyone and quietly follow James out to a black SUV. He opens the passenger door for me. I climb in, buckling my seatbelt as he silently stands there until it's clicked before shutting the door and walking around to the driver's side.
The air is crisp and slightly chilly for an early fall night. Goosebumps break out along my arms as he starts the car and points the vents with warm air toward me.
"Where am I going?" he asks.
I guide him to my house, but other than that, it's a silent drive. When he pulls up to the curb, I expect him to stay in the car, but he surprises me when he turns it off and meets me around the side.
"You don't need to walk me to the door," I say, looking up at the side of his face.