Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
DREW
J ust when I thought this night couldn’t get worse.
First Sarah Beth had a fit at Melissa’s because Mel’s husband was making lasagna instead of the angel hair pasta she likes, then my mom called and insisted on having a conversation about the summer family trip we don’t need to book for at least two more months, and then I hit a patch of ice on the way over and ended up in ditch.
Thankfully, I was able to push the car out with the help of an old friend who happened to be driving by, but the slip made me even later.
And more short-tempered.
When I saw Peter being Peter—drinking too much and hitting on every pretty girl who doesn’t know he’s the biggest player in town—I just…lost it.
I’m not proud of myself, but I don’t think I deserved a dressing down from Tatum, either. I was just trying to protect her and make sure she felt comfortable tonight.
Instead, I’ve made things weird.
She barely looks at me after Peter excuses himself for the night and I take his seat. She keeps her gaze on Ashley, laughing as she finishes the story of Bad Dog with a flourish. “The preacher agreed to keep his cats on the other side of the lake, near his trapping cabin, and the fisherman agreed to keep his bad dog penned up on this side of the lake, where it couldn’t terrorize the cats. But he loved that stupid dog so much that the pen kept getting bigger and bigger, until it was nearly the size of a town. So, eventually he founded the town of Bad Dog, Minnesota, vowing bad dogs would always be welcome here.”
“And they are,” Rick pipes up. “You can ask Duchess, my corgi. You have to see a picture, Tatum, she’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.”
The entire table groans good-naturedly—Rick spoils his corgi more than I spoil my kid—but they all lean in to see the latest shot of Duchess in her pink and black pom-pom sweater.
“Precious,” Tatum declares. “What a perfect little lady.”
“Don’t let the cute face fool you,” Ashley says. “Duchess will poop in your bathroom if you go too long without giving her a snuggle.”
“Or run the vacuum cleaner,” Rick says, still grinning. “She hates the vacuum cleaner.”
“Sounds like Duchess and I have something in common,” Tatum says. “Cleaning is the worst.”
The table chuckles, clearly as charmed by Tatum as I am, and then the server is tableside, delivering another pitcher of margaritas. I pour myself a little more than I usually would in the name of catching up with everyone else, but the usually delicious lime concoction tastes like dirt in my mouth.
I hate this distance between Tatum and me.
I hate that I made her angry or, even worse, disappointed her. I liked the reflection I saw in her eyes before, of a man who went the extra mile for his daughter and drew boundaries because it was the right thing to do, not because he was jealous.
That’s what all that was with Peter.
At the time, I thought I was just cracking down on a wayward junior lawyer who has a habit of tying one on, but with the benefit of five minutes of hindsight, the truth becomes pretty clear.
I’m ashamed of myself and angry that I ruined what I hoped would be a good night with Tatum. I knew it wouldn’t be a date night, obviously, but I hoped to enjoy more of her company in an adult setting. I adore my daughter, but there are times when it’s nice to spend time with other grown-ups. I don’t get much of that, and now I’ve fucked up one of my few opportunities to enjoy down time with my colleagues and treat a woman I like to a nice night out.
It’s more than sexual attraction with Tatum.
I just…like her. Being in her company makes even silly things like the story of Bad Dog and a game of poker with my work friends feel special.
When we finish our fourth round of cards and Deborah excuses herself for the night, I lean in and murmur, “I’m sorry. Forgive me?” to Tatum too softly for the people bidding Deb goodbye to hear.
She shifts her gaze, glancing up at me from the corners of her eyes. “For what?”
“For being a jealous asshole when I have no right to be jealous. Or controlling. Or anything but supportive and kind and happy that you’re happy, whatever it is that’s making you happy,” I say, forcing my tone to remain light as I add, “Even if that’s Peter, the guy who always drinks too much and sleeps around. A lot. Like…a lot, a lot.”
Tatum’s lips curve. “I have no interest in Peter. But I also have no interest in being treated like your little sister. I’m not your little sister, Drew.”
“No, you’re not,” I say. “And again, I apologize. It won’t happen again.”
She nods and reaches for her drink, lifting it my way. “I’ll drink to that.”
I lift my glass, clinking it to hers. “Forgiven?”
“Forgiven,” she says. “So what kept you? Is Sarah Beth okay?”
With a sigh, I relay the Tragedy of Being Forced to Eat Lasagna. By the time I finish, she’s laughing so hard I can’t help but find it funny, too. “And then my mom kept me on the phone, and I slid off the road on a patch of ice and it was just a cursed start to the evening.”
Her eyes go wide with concern as she grabs my hand under the table. “Are you okay? Is the car okay?”
“We’re both fine,” I say, my fingers closing around hers, holding her hand the best thing that’s happened to me all day. “An old buddy from high school drove by and helped me push it out,” I assure her. “I truly was giving being on time my best shot, but it didn’t work out.”
“I’m just glad you weren’t hurt,” Tatum says, detangling her hand from mine. She clears her throat as she adds in a brighter tone, “I’m not used to driving on icy roads, so I take it very slow around here. One guy honked at me on the way to the park the other day, but people are mostly very nice about the woman driving at granny speed. I figure it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“On the whole, people are great here,” Ashley confirms from the other side of the table with a yawn. “But we fade out early. We’re all farmers’ kids who grew up getting up at the ass crack of dawn and going to bed right after sunset and we never quite break the habit. I’m heading for home. See you all tomorrow. Nice meeting you, Tatum.”
“Nice meeting you, too,” Tatum says, pushing her chair back and reaching into her purse. “I should go, too. My boss has a zero-tardiness policy.”
The grin she shoots my way can’t banish the disappointment filling my chest. “Your boss will understand if you want to have one more drink and play a couple more rounds of poker. You’re on a winning streak,” I say, nodding toward her pile of quarters. Seems a shame to quit now.”
Her smile only falters for a second, but it’s enough to make me suspect my “zero tardiness” policy isn’t the reason she’s leaving. “Thanks, but I should go. I could use some time alone to read my book and just…focus.” She pulls out a twenty-dollar bill. “Is this enough to cover my part? I’m not sure how to split the margarita costs.”
I cover her hand, guiding it back to her purse. “Don’t worry about it. It’s on me. Consider it a bonus for a great first week.”
She laughs. “It’s only been three days, but I’ll take it. Thanks, Drew.” She stands, waving at those of us left at the table. “Bye everyone. Drive safe and so nice to meet you!”
A chorus of “goodbyes” rise from our table as she moves toward the side exit.
I watch her go for a moment, my stomach in knots, before reaching for my wallet. “I’d like to pay for everyone if that’s okay. My apology for being so late to the party.”
“Yeah, I think that would be just fine,” Coleen says, with a laugh.
“You’re a hero among men,” Rick says, motioning to the waitress. “We’ll have the check. But add another pitcher to it before you bring it over, please. I need to win back all the quarters I just lost.”
Now that Tatum’s gone, I really don’t want to linger any longer, but I can’t excuse myself without making it obvious I was here to indulge my entirely inappropriate crush on my nanny, so…I stay.
I stay and I lose every quarter in my pile to Coleen. But Rick loses his, as well, and it’s nice to spend time with the two of them. Coleen has been with the company since not long after I was born and Rick’s a great guy. He’s one of my role models, actually. He has a great relationship with his wife, raised two great girls who just started college and high school, and finds time to be an incredible attorney, a good friend, and an obsessed dog dad at the same time.
As we head for the door, pulling on coats, I ask him, “How are the girls? Is Alyssa enjoying her freshman year?”
He sighs, but smiles as he says, “She’s having a blast, but Dad is having a harder time. Every time we go out for breakfast, I ask for a table for four. I just can’t wrap my head around the fact that she’s five hours away. I still visit her every other Saturday. I worry I’m cramping her style, but she says she likes our early suppers, and I can’t stand not seeing my baby girl for months on end.”
I clap him on the shoulder. “She’s lucky to have a dad like you.”
“Well, thanks. I hope so,” he says. “I did my best to love her with every piece of my heart. I know you do the same with Sarah Beth. But hug her tight and treasure every memory, even the hard ones. They aren’t lying when they say it goes by like a flash. Before you know it, she’ll be off to college, too.”
I shudder and hold up a hand. “Don’t say that. Even after a twenty-minute tantrum about being forced to eat lasagna, I don’t want it to go any faster. Even on hard days, she’s the best thing in my life.”
Rick smiles a knowing smile and returns my shoulder clap. “Maybe not for long.”
I blink. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t shut out happiness for no reason, Drew. You deserve someone to share your life and all the fun and hardship of raising children with.” He shrugs. “And Tatum seems like a strong young woman. If she isn’t interested, I’m sure she’ll let you know it.”
I pull in a breath and start to sputter something about not wanting to make my employee uncomfortable, but Rick cuts me off with another clap on the shoulder. “Don’t make life harder than it has to be. Believe, me, it’s hard enough on its own without any help from us. I’m off to take Duchess out for her late-night walk. If she doesn’t get to walk right before bed, she’ll whine all night and keep the whole family awake. The things we do for love!”
“The things we do for love,” I agree.
I watch him push through the door, my pulse picking up.
I’m about to head upstairs and knock on Tatum’s door, ask if we can talk more about what a possible relationship might look like, when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out to see a text from Melissa— Sarah Beth is yawning big time. Should I put her down here? Or will you be back to get her by nine?
I glance at the time. It’s already eight-forty-five.
Shit. I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t have time for romantic gestures, and I can’t afford to alienate my nanny. I need Tatum to show up at work tomorrow. I don’t have anyone else lined up to take care of my daughter, and Sarah Beth comes first.
I’ll be there in ten minutes, thanks, Mel. I text back.
Then I put my cell in my pocket and leave without looking back. Rick’s right, I would love someone to share the joys and hardships of parenting with, but I’ve been through five babysitters and none of them clicked with Sarah Beth. What she has with Tatum is precious and I have to protect that at all costs.
Even if that means protecting it from myself.