Chapter 12
12
Harrison
“Tell her to come over here.” I overhear Nick tell Natalie in hushed tones. On the stairs, their voices travel, reaching my ears.
Natalie huffs. “It’s not that simple. I know her better than anyone. She’ll put on a brave face and pretend it doesn’t matter in front of you. But I know she’s hurting inside.”
I lean against the wall, not sure what to think or how to feel. I know they’re talking about Tatum but have no idea what’s going on. One of those is a lie I tell myself. I know exactly how I feel. I’m still reeling from that fight that came out of nowhere.
We were good.
We were fucking great.
Then she had to light a match and set us on fire again. After I got back from Tatum’s, I went for a run on the treadmill in the basement to burn through the restless energy I had coursing through me. It’s not the same as running oceanside, but it got the job done. Until now.
I stop and listen, though I know better than to eavesdrop. There’s just a niggling suspicion inside my chest that something might be seriously wrong.
Nick says, “She doesn’t have to be guarded with me. I’ve been around long enough to know the truth. And I’ll leave you guys alone. She’s always welcome here no matter what happens.”
“I appreciate that. It’s just always been her and me against the world and . . . well, then came you and now comes a baby. She’s not showing it, but I can tell she’s now struggling to find her place. That’s why I asked her to be a godparent. I want her to know she’ll always be a part of our lives.”
“Honey, you can be there for her, but if she doesn’t want your help?—”
“She does. But if I’m not there, it just proves her point. She’s used to being left alone to deal with things on her own. If I were in her shoes, I’d be wondering if I have a place as well. I don’t want her to wonder. I want her to know she has us.”
“I’m happy to go with you,” he says.
“No, it’s fine.”
Pushing off the wall, I come around the corner. They’re quick to step apart like they’ve been busted by their parents. “At ease, soldiers.”
Natalie hangs on Nick’s arm. “We weren’t doing anything sexual.”
Grabbing her, Nick pulls her to his side. “Yet anyway.”
She shoves him playfully. “No, don’t trap me. I need to go.”
I stand on the other side of the island and press my palms to the cold stone. “I overheard you talking about Tatum. What’s going on?”
They exchange a glance, but then she turns to me. “Her mother didn’t show up for brunch, so I was going to meet her at the restaurant.” The same mother who humiliated her daughter and scheduled this brunch as an apology? What the hell?
Looking at my watch, I ask, “I thought that was more than an hour ago?”
“It was.” Her tone is solemn as she looks down to put her phone in her bag on the counter.
My imagination starts to get away from me. I want to be wrong, so I ask, “She’s been there alone this whole time?”
“Yes.” Natalie swings her bag onto her shoulder and lifts to kiss Nick. “That’s why I’m going to see her.”
“I’ll go.” They both look at me as if I’m speaking a foreign language—heads tilted, confusion cinching their brows together. “I want to go,” I add as if that will make them understand the guilt I feel for what I said to her this morning. We argued, but I can still be there for her in a time of need.
“I don’t know, Harrison,” Natalie says, slipping out of her husband’s embrace.
“Did she say something to you?”
“Should she have?” she asks defensively, crossing her arms over her chest.
I exhale and run a hand over my head. “We had words this morning.”
Without blinking, she looks at me with her mouth open. “I thought you were here last night, just sleeping in.”
The tables have been turned, and now I’m the one who’s busted. I don’t have to justify my whereabouts to anyone and haven’t in years. But as she said, Tatum’s important to her, and I know her worry comes from concern for her friend. “I stayed with her last night. That was great. This morning . . . not so much. I’d like to go and talk to her . . . be there for her.”
Nick eyes me, seemingly invested in Tatum’s well-being. It’s not like he hasn’t known me his whole damn life. “Really?” I ask, annoyed.
He crosses his arms, and something appears to satisfy him. “I think you should let him go, Nat. It sounds like they have some unfinished business to take care of.”
Natalie’s gaze volleys between us a few times with a debate sparked in her eyes. “I don’t know if that’s wise since you had a fight with her as well. It’s not dump on Tatum day.”
“You’ve always been there for her, but today, I can be the one,” I say. The words that came so naturally off my tongue sound strange to my ears.
The one?
What the fuck am I saying?
I barely stepped foot in Manhattan, and she’s already written me off. That’s my wounded pride speaking. My heart says otherwise. Something tells me she needs to know someone else is in her corner right now. I can be that person.
She sets her bag on the counter. “All right, but promise me you’ll tell me everything when you get back.”
Holding up my hand in Scout’s honor, I say, “I promise.”
Since I have my wallet and phone, I don’t need to go back upstairs. “Text me the address?”
“I will.” Natalie then adds, “Be gentle. She’s strong, but her Achilles’ heel is her vulnerable side.”
I know. I found out the hard way, but I don’t say it, feeling protective over the time I’ve had alone with Tatum. “You can trust me.” I head for the door with the two of them in tow. Just before I reach it, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
“The address,” Natalie says.
“If you hear from her again, convince her to stay.” I walk out and down the stairs. It’s faster to take a cab since one’s already heading my way. I raise my arm, and when it zips across the lane to the curb, I look back at them. They’re still standing there like worried parents. “I’ll take care of her,” I say and then get in the back of the taxi.
On the ride over, I debate if I should warn Tatum that I’m coming. If I do, she’ll leave. I know it. I’ve also learned how she handles confrontation. She ditches the situation. A trait she inherited from her mother .
If I don’t tell her, she may leave as soon as she sees me.
I’m willing to take my chances.
The ivy-covered restaurant has seating on the sidewalk, but I don’t see Tatum. I stop at the hostess stand, and say, “I’m looking for a friend. I’m just going to cruise around real quick.”
“Let me know if I can be of assistance,” she replies with a smile that I’m used to receiving.
My parents gave me my good looks, and I’m just naturally charming. Amusing myself while I search the restaurant, I don’t find her, but there’s a large patio out back, so I make my way outside. As soon as I do, I see her under a flowering tree in the corner. Seated alone.
I’d love a chance to admire how beautiful she is in a deep pink dress with bows on top of her shoulders. Her hair is in a ponytail high on the back of her head, and her chin rests in her hand.
I keep moving, though, wanting to be the one she can lean on. As soon as her eyes spy me coming, she’s stiffening her spine and clasping her hands on her lap under the table. I barely reach the vicinity before she’s asking, “What are you doing?”
I take the napkin from the plate and whip it in the air, freeing it from the shape of a fortune cookie, and sit down across from her. “I’m having lunch.”
“Here?”
“You don’t mind, do you?”
She looks around like I’m making a scene. I’m not. Just having lunch with a gorgeous woman on a Sunday afternoon in June.
Leaning closer, she whispers, “The check is on its way, Harrison.” She tries to catch the waiter’s attention by raising her hand, but when that fails, she adds, “I was already planning to leave.”
“Change your plans and have lunch with me.” My voice is even, my offer genuine.
We share an exchange, and then she asks, “How do you know I haven’t eaten already?”
I glance at the clean plate in front of her and the silverware that shines on either side of the porcelain. She continues looking around for any last-ditch efforts, but when she can’t think of any, she says, “Fine. I’ll stay to keep you company, but don’t drag this out. Just lunch, and then we go our separate ways. Okay?”
Grinning, I adjust the napkin across my leg and pick up the menu, settling in. “What do you recommend?”
“Harrison?”
My gaze slides over the top of the menu. “Yes?”
“ Okay? No dragging this out.”
“Fine. Long lunches that lead to lazy Sunday afternoons in bed, which then lead to dinner and a hot bath right after. Your body slick against mine, coming until?—”
“I will get up right now.”
I love getting under her skin, but I like her smile even more, which she’s granting me regardless of the threat. I chuckle. “Okay.”
“Good. As for the rest of that, it’s not happening either, and the eggs Benedict is their specialty.”
Lowering my menu, I ask, “Did you know eggs Benedict is named after a Wall Street broker who ordered the dish at the Waldorf Hotel in the late 1890s.”
“There are conflicting stories regarding that.” Her hand goes to her chest. “As a New Yorker—born and bred—I like the broker one the best.”
“What was it like to grow up here? Having a park as your backyard and walking the streets to get to school? I’ve never really understood city life when it’s more like a concrete jungle.”
“That’s because you have to spend time here to get to know it. There’s magic found around every corner. You just have to look for it.”
“Maybe you can show me.”
“Maybe. I’m pretty busy these days.” She looks away, studying every other person on this patio in avoidance of my eyes. But then she exhales heavily and meets my gaze.
I can’t successfully hide my smile when I see hers first.
The server arrives and clears her empty mimosa glass. “Anything else?”
Ordering, I reply, “Two eggs Benedict, a pitcher of mimosas, and flat water for the table.”
Her pen is still poised on the pad, but nothing was jotted down. She’s looking at me when she asks, “Oh, I thought we were clearing this table?”
“Nope, we’re staying and brunching together.” I grin right at Tatum. “Right, Tate?”
“You know that annoys me?—”
“Brunch ends at two,” the server snaps at me.
Glancing at my watch, I reply, “More than an hour is plenty of time. Thank you.”
Her straight hair cuts through the air when she turns to leave.
When we’re left to our own devices, Tatum asks, “Did Natalie send you?”
“No. I volunteered for the job.”
“And what job is that exactly?” She crosses her arms over her chest, reminding me a lot of Natalie by the action. “Operation rescue Tatum from the humiliation of being stood up by her mom? Save your breath, Decker. I got this handled.”
I didn’t expect her to let her guard down for me, especially after this morning, so her defensiveness doesn’t come as a surprise. I do the only thing I hope will lower those walls for me again like they were this morning. “I owe you an apology.”
Her eyes widen. It’s nice to surprise her for once. “For?”
“For what I said this morning. You like to pretend stuff doesn’t get to you, but we’re all human. I can only assume you felt some anxiety about meeting your mom after what happened at the party, and I felt it was taken out on me. It stung, considering I thought we were having a good time together.”
Her body language has changed. Not from the champagne or because I’m laying out a ton of wisdom. It’s because I’m here. I’m listening. And, most importantly, I’m treating her kindly. She’s receptive because she’s trusting my authenticity. I care about her.
Tatum is so fucking frustrating, but there’s something about her that I just can’t let go of.
“I did take it out on you. Some habits are hard to break. It was easier to blame you than to admit I had hoped this time with my mom would be different.” When her arms lower, so do her eyes. While she toys with her napkin, her shoulders roll in on themselves, her body caving into her pain. “She’ll have a great excuse, one that will end an argument.”
“Will that reason take away the hurt she’s caused you, the pain of feeling abandoned?”
Her eyes dart to mine. “I haven’t been abandoned, Harrison.”
Reaching across the table, I hold my hand palm up for her. “You may believe you have to be strong all the time, but with me, you don’t. I like you.” I laugh to myself. “Prickly on the outside, soft on the inside. What’s not to like?”
“I haven’t been abandoned,” she repeats, but it feels more for herself than to convince me. The drinks are served, and our glasses filled. When we’re alone again, she says, “It’s not the first time I’ve been stood up by one of my parents, but it doesn’t sting any less.”
Taking a long sip, she sets her half-empty champagne glass down, and adds, “I don’t know how to make them understand how much it hurts when they don’t show up.”
“It’s not your job to make them understand. It’s their job to love you unconditionally. As for standing you up, I know I’m a poor substitute?—”
“You’re not.” She finally rests her hand in mine, and our fingers wrap around each other’s. “I don’t know why you’re here after how I treated you this morning, but I’m glad you came. It takes a strong man to show up like you did. So, I want to apologize to you because you’re right. You did nothing wrong. I just let my insecurities get the best of me when you deserved better. I’m sorry.”
Our food arrives, and after the server sprinkles pepper over our eggs, she’s quick to walk away again. My stomach growls, but this conversation is too important to put off. “How many times have we started over?”
“More importantly, how many times will you give us another chance?”
I turn her hand over in mine, remembering kissing it this morning. “Well, as far as that goes, you’ve given me a chance or two. So, how about we stop taking chances and start giving each other the benefit of the doubt instead?”
Tapping her glass against mine, she says, “Here’s to friends with benefits.”
With a seriously ridiculous grin on my face, I laugh. “Now that’s something I’m definitely drinking to. Cheers,” I say.
Let the fun begin.