Chapter 8
8
Tatum
Breaking the rules never felt so good.
Or maybe that’s Harrison’s lips on mine that feel amazing. God, how I missed this. Him. He makes me feel like he’s been craving me more than the air he needs to breathe. “Harrison,” I say, not sure why I’m even saying it but feel it purr through me again.
His hands run down my ribs to my hips and then up to my waist as if checking that I’m real. Pulling back, he looks into my eyes, breathing heavily. “What are we doing?”
“I don’t know.” I run my hands over his jaw, feeling the rough edges of a recent shave. I’m famished for his touch, to feel like nothing else matters and lose myself in the abyss of the bliss he brings my way, even if for just a short time.
He says, “We should?—”
“I don’t want you to stop.”
This time when he kisses me, the backs of my thighs hit the windowsill. When my back reaches the glass, he pulls me forward and takes my hand. “My room on the top floor will be better.” We’re fast out the door.
“I know it well. I’ve been in that bed many times.”
He comes to an abrupt halt on the stairs. “What?”
Then it dawns on me how that sounds. “Oh God, no. I meant, I sleep there when I stay the night. I’ve not had . . .” I whisper, “sex or done anything else with someone in that bed other than wearing face masks with Natalie.”
Confusion digs into his brow but then disappears. “Good enough.”
We continue rushing up the stairs when I slow, bringing him to a stop this time. He looks back, his hair already a mess and falling over his forehead. My stay-all-day lipstick didn’t live up to its promise, so I reach up and run the pad of my thumb over his lips.
He kisses it. “Are you okay?”
“I am.” He’s so handsome with his endearing eyes, that strong, sharp jaw, and the straight bridge of his nose. Why am I stopping this from happening? Why do I torture myself for no reason? Oh right . . . “The party.”
“Right,” he says with a sigh, his lids dipping closed. Running his hand through his hair, he takes three steps down, giving me the advantage. Releasing my hand, he takes hold of my waist again. “I don’t want to lose this . . . whatever it is between us.”
His words play my heartstrings like a violin. I suck in a staggered breath as fear creeps in—the thought of being hurt, the unknown, and the disappointment that followed a perfect night in Catalina, and what might have been tonight. I swallow it down, deep inside me, refusing to let it get air.
Taking a step down, I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him again. It’s not hurried or a goodbye, an end, or a kiss-off. It’s true and full of the feelings that I like better—the good ones that feed my ego and my well-being. “Would you like to come to my place tonight?”
A wry grin wriggles into place. “Yes.”
To the point. Much like Harrison Decker. For someone who I’ve overheard being called a shark in business, that’s not what he’s been with me. Not tonight, at least. “Then it’s a date, the kind with benefits.”
His deep chuckle fills the staircase. “We should get back.”
“I don’t want to make a spectacle. One’s enough for tonight.” I nod toward the top of the stairs. “And you should probably wipe my lipstick off your mouth.”
“Probably a good idea.” Rubbing his fingers over his wry grin is something I could watch all night, but I tear my gaze away and start down the steps as he heads in the opposite direction.
Standing on the landing, I ask, “Harrison?”
He stops at the top and looks back over his shoulder. “Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
It’s not a grandiose reaction, but it doesn’t need to be. A gaze is exchanged, but he doesn’t ask what I’m thanking him for or to explain. He just accepts the offer with mutual understanding.
I straighten my skirt in the downstairs bathroom and then reapply my lipstick. Grabbing a vodka soda from the bar on my way outside, I catch my mom’s eyes on me first, a sinking feeling dragging the high I was riding down with it. Then I see everyone else looking. Great . . .
Typically, I’m the one on top of the bar getting attention, but this isn’t the limelight I desire. My mom gets up and meets me as I make my way back to my seat. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, darling.”
We step off to the side for any bit of privacy we can get. Though my stomach isn’t thrilled we missed the main course, I’m relieved when the other guests are served dessert. The chocolate cake is just the distraction I need to deter their attention away from me. “I don’t know why you’d humiliate me like that, but this is not a conversation we can have right now.”
“I was taken by surprise.”
“Imagine how I felt,” I snap. I’m never rude to my mother. Even through my rebellious high school days, I still managed to give my parents the perfect grades they expected. Now I know where I really stand in her eyes.
“We can meet for brunch tomorrow to have this discussion. Just not here,” I say under my breath.
She narrows her eyes a little but then agrees. “Brunch at Bistro 55. Eleven thirty.” At that, she leaves and walks back to the table, but I don’t miss the roll of her eyes toward my dad. What was that for?
I return to my seat just as Harrison sits down across from me. So much for timing. Who really cares? No one, most likely.
When I look up, I’m met with Harrison’s strength and a smile filled with confidence—not the arrogant kind, but the one he’s willing to share with me. He’s right. I shouldn’t feel embarrassed or ashamed. I turn to Natalie, who gives me the same grin. She trusts me with her child’s life. She sees something in me that I can’t. Maybe it’s time I tried.
“Try the cake. It’s divine,” Natalie’s mom, Martine, says sweetly.
“Excellent idea.” Chocolate’s always been a weakness of mine. Taking a bite of the decadence, I close my eyes as the sugar coats my tongue and softly moan in delight. I open my eyes to find Harrison’s glued to me, his lips parted, and if I’m not mistaken, the little chocolate on the side of his lips I wouldn’t mind licking off for him.
Leaning forward, he whispers, “We can skip dessert . . .” He signals toward the exit just in case I didn’t get his intention by “we can skip dessert.”
I start laughing but am quick to cover my mouth with the back of my hand. “What kind of maniac skips dessert?”
It only takes one bite before I sink into the seat to let the sweetness take over. “This cake. It’s orgasmic.”
“Orgasmic?” Cookie asks. “Well then, I might need another piece to go,” she says, digging her fork in for a second bite. “For later.”
Nick sighs heavily as he sets his fork back on the table. “No, Mom. I can’t. I know you want to treat Andrew and me as the adults we are, but I just don’t think I can listen to sex talk around you.”
Natalie starts laughing, then Martine, with many others joining in, almost like the earlier incident never happened. That’s how I like it best.
When guests begin to leave, and others enjoy an after-dinner digestif, Natalie takes me by the hand and pulls me to a corner of the dining room. “Marcelles opened spots for their next cooking class. I was thinking it could be something we do together,” she says.
“You don’t want to take it with Nick?”
“I figured Nick wouldn’t be upset since he’ll benefit from the outcome. But more so, I thought it would be something fun for us to do together that’s not work-related. It will give us a guaranteed weekly date. I miss just spending time with you.”
She’s right. We haven’t been going out much, and now I know why—the baby. But also, work has picked up year over year. That’s why I need to get to work on this new plan. As for downtime, I may see Natalie almost every day, but I still miss my friend. “I’m really great at ordering food, but maybe I could learn a new skill and cook instead.” I wink.
“We can cook together, too. Maybe have a regular dinner?—”
“Let’s slow down,” I say, my hands flying up. “At least until after the first class.”
Holding her stomach, she giggles. “Good idea. I might have good intentions, but no promises it tastes good.”
“Natalie?”
Her mom calls her from the entryway. She gives my hand a squeeze. “I need to say goodbye, but I wanted you to know that I’m happy for you and Harrison.”
“What are you happy about?”
She holds a finger to her lips. “Don’t worry, I don’t think the others noticed, but Nick and I saw you in the window.”
My legs hitting the sill, my back to the window. I cringe as a second wave of mortification rolls over me. I swallow. “I’m sorry. He?—”
“Natalie, I’ll call you,” Martine says.
“I’ll be right there,” she calls back. “It’s okay. I just wanted you to know that I’m glad it seems you’ve made up. Literally .”
I restrain my laughter, but a giggle comes out. “Thanks for putting it so . . . nicely.”
Natalie’s in her mom’s and dad’s arms, both of them hugging her. I’d almost forgotten my parents and her dad were here. They tend to sneak away to talk business when they get together. As if me mentioning him in my head made him magically appear, my dad comes in through the butler’s pantry. “I’ve been looking for you, sweetheart.”
“I’ve been around,” I reply.
He comes straight for me and gives me a hug. “Are you doing all right?”
I put on my best stiff upper lip, just like they taught me. “I’m fine. No need to worry.”
“I do anyway.” His softer tone catches me off guard.
Suddenly feeling every bit his little girl, I rest my head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Dad.”
My dad kisses my head and then heads for the door. “Love you. Call me soon.”
“I will. Love you.”
After they leave, I grab my bag and head for the door. Just as I reach my best friend, Harrison comes from the living room. “You weren’t sneaking out, were you?”
“No. I made quite the show of things tonight. So why would I bother sneaking around now?”
Always ready to laugh, at least my jokes land with him. “That’s good to hear.”
As if Nick appears out of nowhere, Natalie turns back to me while resting against her husband. His hands slide around her waist, resting on her flat belly that will soon be much bigger.
It’s not envy.
I’m not ready for the baby stage of life yet, but maybe my own person to rest against wouldn’t be so bad.
“In regard to being godparents, we took you both by surprise, but please don’t think we made our decision lightly,” Nick says.
Harrison stands next to me, and for a moment, our hands brush against each other’s. It’s the lightest of touches, but it makes me feel like we’re a team. “I won’t speak for Tatum, but it would be an honor.”
“You’re a good man, Deck.” He and Nick do that man-hug thing guys do—a shoulder bump, a pat on the back, lots of self-congratulatory talk.
Wiping a tear, I find it’s heartwarming to witness. I want that. Not the man-hug thing, but to be a part of something amazing that will always bind me to my best friend. “I’m in.” The words come out too fast to take them back. Not that I want to, but I probably should have given it more thought.
“You are?” Natalie asks, her eyes welling with tears. Joy lifts her expression as she rushes to hug me. “Thank you, Tate.”
“Our kid will be lucky to have you,” Nick says.
“Thank you.”
As other guests come toward the door, Harrison says, “I’m going to see Tatum home.”
Knowing they saw us earlier, I feel my cheeks heat. Blushing isn’t something I normally do, but here I am, acting like a schoolgirl. We say our goodbyes, and then Natalie says, “Thanks for taking care of my best friend.”
Harrison looks back. “My pleasure.”
The door closes as we walk down the steps. “I’m hoping it’s mine, as well.” I click my tongue and give him a little wink.
“Don’t worry.” We reach the curb, and he opens the door for me. Just as I start to get in, I stop to say—but he kisses me, stealing the words right off my tongue. “I’ve waited what feels like forever for this night. There’s no way I’m leaving a single inch of you untouched or wanting.”
There’s not much left to say, except, “How fast can we get to Tribeca?”