Chapter 7
7
Harrison
The second course is served.
The mothers flanking Nick and Natalie have been gushing with excitement since the couple announced the baby. Jackson has talked Tatum’s ear off, but I try not to be jealous. They’re old friends , I remind myself.
He starts a conversation with his other neighbor , finally, giving Tatum and me the first chance to speak.
Tatum leans forward to whisper to me, “You look bothered.”
“That’s just my face,” I reply, teasing.
“No, it’s not. Maybe bothered wasn’t right.” A myriad of emotions flickers through her eyes as she studies mine. “I’m leaning toward jealousy.”
Chuckling, I spin my glass of whiskey between my fingers on top of the pale pink tablecloth. “You tell me. You seem to know the emotion well, or is jealousy a reaction?”
“Why would you say that?”
I hold my hands up in surrender, but inside, I’m laughing. “I didn’t know you had an issue with grammar questions.”
“Stop being ridiculous.” Not when it brings that pretty smile of hers to the surface. She’s still laughing when she says, “I meant, why would I be familiar with jealousy?”
Finishing the amber liquid, I ask a passing waiter for another and then return my attention to the stunner sitting across from me. “No reason. No reason at all.” My words contradict my true emotions. I was so fucking jealous of Jackson, but I’ll never let her know that. Maybe I hid it as well as she did at the bar with those two women. Basically, not at all.
Flirting also seems to challenge our earlier agreement, but maybe we’re just those kinds of friends as well. Who says you can’t have it all?
As we eat, I keep catching the warmth of her gaze on me. She plays it off and is quick to look away most of the time, but she locks her brown eyes on mine every once in a while without apology.
Natalie stands after our plates are cleared, her glow filling the garden with the pure joy written across her face. She gently taps her spoon against the side of her crystal water glass. “We’re having such a lovely evening with you that Nick and I felt tonight would be a good time to . . . well, I want to say something to my dearest friend.” Her gaze slides to Tatum. “You’re my sister and my best friend. I don’t need an answer now, but I’d love for you to consider being our baby’s godparent.”
From the other end of the table, Camille Devreux barks with laughter until she realizes no one else has joined in. My eyes, like everyone else’s, dart from her back to Tatum, who appears mortified by how she’s shrinking in her chair. I’m not sure how to save her the humiliation, but if I could, I’d take it away completely.
I do what comes naturally and stretch a leg across the divide under the table until my shoe touches the tip of hers, wishing it was our hands. Staring into the eyes that remind me of the Catalina cliffs at sunset, I try hard to decipher what’s going on in her head. The strength I hoped to give her can’t compete with the plea shaping her expression.
The uncomfortable silence grows until Natalie reaches across her mother’s place setting without a second thought and takes Tatum’s hand in hers. “There’s no pressure, but we want you to know that we trust you and love you.”
Tatum swallows so hard that I can hear it sitting across from her.
“I love you, too,” she whispers.
Nick doesn’t stand, but he does say, “Harrison, Natalie and I would be honored if you’d consider also being our kid’s godparent.”
“What? Me?” I don’t make a scene like Mrs. Devreux, but I swear I don’t hear him correctly. “You want me to take care of your kid in case of an emergency?”
“You and Tatum,” Nick says. “Something for you to consider.”
What the fuck is he thinking? This is insane.
Tatum scoots her chair back from the table. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Would you like me to come with you?” Natalie asks.
“No. Enjoy the party.”
As forks clang against china and the low rumble of conversation picks up again, Tatum walks up the steps of the deck and into the house. I look at Nick and then Natalie. “Thank you.” Nick nods once, and I add, “I think I’m going to check on her.”
I cross the deck and am inside just as the waiters begin bustling around the table again. “Tatum?” I look toward the kitchen and peek into the front room where the bar is stationed. When I don’t find her, I check the downstairs bathroom, which is empty.
Taking the steps by two, I rush up to the second floor and find her in the nursery. I knock lightly on the door, not wanting to sneak up on her. Tatum whips her head to the side, her arms crossed over her chest, and tears in her eyes. “My mom is right. What would I do with a baby? I can barely take care of my own life.”
I understand her shock. “Andrew’s the most responsible person I know. Why the fuck would Nick think I’m more suited for the job?” Just inside the door, I add, “But they know us. They know we’d love their baby like it was our own. I’d raise this kid to know everything about Nick, and you’d teach them everything about Natalie while giving them enough love to hopefully fill any voids.”
She gently swipes under her eyes before the tears fall. “Did you know about this?”
“No. I didn’t see this godparent thing coming.” I chuckle humorlessly. “I’m not sure what to think, but what I do know is that our best friends trust us with their kids.” When I smile, I feel the honor bestowed upon me mixed with the disbelief of the situation.
A smile appears, and she sniffles. “Crazy. But what you said . . . that was beautiful, Harrison. If the unthinkable happens, we’d love their kids like our own.”
“We would.” I move inside and look out the window down at the dinner party below. “You don’t have to say yes. It’s just something for us to consider.”
She joins my side, resting her head against my arm and staring out the window as well. “My mom laughed at the thought of me taking care of kids.”
“Sounds like your mom doesn’t know the woman you’ve become.”
Her arm slips around my back, and I slip mine around her. “Why do you say such thoughtful things when I don’t deserve them?”
“Who says you don’t? We all have good and bad days. It’s hard to remember the good sometimes, but we shouldn’t hold a bad one against someone for life.”
“Be careful, Decker, or I might think you have a heart.”
“Ugh.” I hold my hands over my heart like I was just struck. I chuckle to myself, a low rumble remaining in my chest. “Don’t go telling the ladies, or you’ll give me a bad rep.”
“Don’t worry. Your bad rep”—she taps my chest—“and your heart are safely intact.” I can feel the lift of her cheek against my muscle.
The sun has set behind the back neighbors’ townhome, and the string lights draped over the yard are like stars we’re looking down on. There’s enough light from the hall for us to see our surroundings. Even the little luminescent stars outside feed light inside.
Tatum’s frame fits against mine, and I wish I could make her happy like she was when she arrived. I have no idea about the history between her and her mother, and I’m annoyed her father didn’t bother to stand up for her downstairs, but I don’t for one minute think she deserved the taunt. Natalie knows her extremely well, so if she believes she’s the one she wants long-term in her baby’s life, then everyone else should trust in that confidence as well.
This woman is good.
The fact that she’s leaning on me for comfort means she trusts in me. I like her. And given the tips of her fingers are tightening against my side, I’m thinking she feels the same more-than-acquaintances vibe filling the air as I do.
When I look down at her, she looks up at me, her usually expressive eyes filled with restrained emotions. “You make me feel everything from happy to mad, but you also make me feel safe. I hate that you seem to be the only one who can do that lately,” she whispers.
“It’s trust. You may not like it. It may feel uncomfortable, but deep down, you know you can trust me.” I turn to face her, wanting to look into the depths of her eyes to find the truth she can’t hide.
Something heavy settles between us—a tension that isn’t troubling—but makes my heart beat harder against my rib cage. Her chest rises and falls with deeper breaths. The smile I was craving a moment earlier doesn’t come, but a lick of her lips has my locking my gaze on the little teasing.
When she cups my face, a million thoughts run through my mind—are we going to go down this route again, or is it better to play it safe and stick to being friends? Although I’m pretty sure she’s about to kiss me, I can’t let that happen without telling her the truth. “I went back inside.”
The grip of her hands softens, and I could kick myself for letting the moment slip away. “I don’t understand.”
“Thursday night. You said you came back for me. I went back inside the club.”
“Oh,” she replies, seeming surprised. Her hands lower to her sides, and she takes a step back. When I lose sight of her eyes, and her arms cross over her chest, her walls start to return. “I guess shame on me for thinking that something was building between us.”
I step closer and tilt her chin up with two fingers. “It was.” Before she can ask the questions populating her mind, I continue, “I went to say goodbye to the guys and thank Kaz for the tickets. I went back in thinking I would have another drink and that would help get you off my mind.”
“Did it?” Her tone turns harsh, her eyes cold. She jerks her chin away, and asks, “Or did someone?”
“Alcohol can’t keep you off my mind, and no woman has captured it like you have, Tatum.”
“See?” she asks through tight lips with aggravation in her tone. “There you go again, Harrison. Why do you do that?” When her hands reach out to push me away, I grab hold and keep them pressed to my chest. “I don’t want to fall for you again. I did that once, and it didn’t end well for me.”
“You didn’t fall for me. You had a good time one night, but what scares you more, Tatum? That you might fall for me or that you might like it?”
Her hands stay firm against me. “I don’t understand the difference.”
“Then give me a chance to show you. We might be good for each other.”
“We might be bad.”
I smirk. “We were always bad, but I haven’t lost all hope just yet.”
She closes the gap, her shoes between mine. “What makes you so confident?”
“I know a good thing when I see it.”
“And you see the good in me, Decker?”
Our breaths begin to mingle when I angle my head and whisper against the shell of her ear, “So much good.”
“What if . . .?”
“What if?” I whisper, matching her tone.
Tilting back just enough to look me in the eyes, she cups my cheeks again. “What if we had another night together. What would you do?”
“I wouldn’t waste a single second of it.”
“Then don’t.” Her lips crash into mine, and when I take her in my arms, I won’t let this second chance get away.