Page 9 of Love You Always

“I’m only making a comparison. Lifting the hem of your skirt so you don’t trip…like breathing…? It’s like my regency romance novel where everyone is extending a hand and waltzing and making romantic gestures all over the place.”

“You and your romance novels. I don’t know how you have so much time to read with your schedule.”

“I’m all audiobook these days.”

“Still.”

“While I drive. I have a commute, remember?”

Tatum works for Vivitech, a billion-dollar tech company in Silicon Valley that makes cutting edge virtual reality games, among other things. It’s how she met her husband, Donovan Taylor, a prosoccer star who plays for the San Francisco Strikers. Tatum is a computer programmer and was in charge of building a virtual reality soccer game with Donovan as the star, and let’s just say he was not a fan of the project. But he was a big fan of her. The rest is history.

“I know. I’m not judging. I should take a few romance novel recs from you. I could use a little vicarious romantic thrill.”

Tatum sits up in her chair and swivels around to face me. “Wait, what? This, from the woman engaged to sexy Callum Haywood, country music’s biggest heartthrob?” She hops up from her chair and goes to the rail of the deck, looking all around with exaggerated dramatic gestures. “Okay, coast is clear. No social media stalkers. What’s going on with you and Callum? Tell me everything.”

Before she sits back down, Tatum goes over to a storage bench in a corner and lifts the lid. She pulls out a silver case and drags a table over, nestling it between our chairs.

I shake my head. “Uh-uh, nope. If you want me to talk, don’t you dare pull out those mah jong tiles.”

“Oh, come on. We haven’t played doubles in forever, and it’ll take that squinch out of your forehead if you’re distracted hoarding jokers while you tell me about your love life.”

I reach up and rub the space between my brows, knowing it’s been creased since I left Buttercup Hill. “It’s silly. I know I’m being overly sensitive…”

“Spill.” Tatum opens the metal case and hands me two racks and dumps the tiles onto the table between us. I join her in flipping them over to their blank side, which has a pink glitter façade that catches the fading sunlight.

“In the year I’ve been with Callum, he’s never anticipated something I’d need—a hug, a foot massage, a grilled cheese sandwich after a long day on set.”

“Ooh, the grilled cheese sixth sense is key. Donno gets that, and I have to say our relationship wouldn’t be what it is without each of us knowing when the other one needs comfort food.”

I nod. “Exactly. Except that Callum is tone-deaf when it comes to the little things.”

“Like noticing the hem of your skirt. Noticing when you’re about to trip, like breathing,” she says. I feel like the skirt hem will be our future barometer for romance, and it irritates me a little bit to associate it with the crabby guy who clearly thinks I’m a diva. But I’ll get over it.

“And I know our relationship is just for show, but sometimes…I still wish for the real thing.” I shrug, smiling at the idea of someone being so in tune with my movements that my steps are his steps. “Maybe I do want someone who notices, and it wasn’t until Archer did what he did that I realized it. Go figure, the biggest grump on the planet causes an epiphany about kindness.”

“Or maybe it’s just him. Maybe you like the grump.”

I let out a long breath. “No. I like that he did something nice without looking for acknowledgement. Or without wanting anything in return.”

“Those are admirable traits. Does that mean you’re having second thoughts about the fake relationship?”

“No, no. It’s the right thing to do. I’ve finally cleared a path to adoption. I’m not backing out now. I’m just pining over something silly.”

“Doesn’t sound silly to me.” Tatum goes to the fridge nestled next to a built-in barbecue and counter space that rivals a high-end kitchen. Pulling out a half-full bottle of rosé, she snags two plastic glasses and comes back to her chair. She pours us each a glass and lifts hers to the light, letting the sun flame up the pink liquid into a deep amber. “This seems like a conversation that would go better with wine.”

I take a sip from my glass, and it immediately takes me back to Buttercup Hill and my appointment with Archer Corbett in a few days. A small thrill courses through me, sizzling in my veins and racing straight to my center. My eyes shoot to Tatum, fearfulthat she notices, but she’s moving the tiles around on her two boards.

“I’m engaged. I’m getting married,” I say, reminding my body more than I’m explaining to Tatum.

Tatum sips her wine thoughtfully. “Yeah. Famous last words from people who fell head over heels for someone else.”

“Why are you pushing so hard for this guy? You don’t even know him, and believe me, if you did, you’d push the other way. He’s irritable and he thinks I’m an annoying wedding client he has to appease.”

“I doubt he thinks that.”

“Oh, he basically said as much.”

She tosses a tile from her board to start the game. “Three bam.”

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