Page 237 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

Despite the band coming in behind us, you’d think Tatum was the rock star since all eyes are on her. We find a seat on a couch against the wall while the guys who came out tonight settle around a low table. I greet Kaz, then introduce Tatum. Most women are starstruck when they meet my famous friends. Hell, most men are as well.Except Tatum.

The band might be put on pedestals by everyone else, but Tatum’s poised and confident not only in her own skin but also in the sky-high heels she’s been wearing all night. I don’t know near enough as I’d like about her, but maybe her world includes megastars and musicians.

The band’s manager, Tommy, makes sure the table is loaded with bottles of options. Derrick and Kaz pour drinks like they didn’t just sweat for over two hours on a stage.

Even they take notice of Tatum and that short, even shorter when she sits, skirt of hers. They’re all married, but if they weren’t, I might be worried they’d find her more interesting than she finds me.

I have no right to feel possessive or even jealous, but some feelings I’ve ignored up to this point have unexpectedly resurfaced, causing my gut to twist and my head to spin when it comes to her. I’m not one to get hung up on a woman. I wholeheartedly admit I only made one phone call that I don’t even think she’s aware of. I made decisions, and now I have to live with the consequences. I chose my family and work back then, and I’m regretting that now.

Not that I’m in love with the woman, but sitting next to her makes me realize there was a time we had a real chance at what Nick and Natalie have. My chest tightens, thinking of that time after Catalina and what happened. I can’t change that, but maybe if Tatum knew . . .

She’s been holding on to that grudge like a life preserver. Even when I tried to make it right at Nick and Natalie’s wedding reception. No move I made or thing I said was going to change her mind.Too little. Too late.

I tried to tell her the truth. My timing might have sucked, but it wasn’t because I hadn’t been thinking of her. Sometimes life is shit and gets in the way. If I could change what happened, I would—for her, for me, but most of all, for my sister.

She’s let me back in tonight, but what will tomorrow bring?

I have my reasons, but what are hers—the real ones. I’m fucking confused and ready to put this to bed, so I ask, “What happened between us?”

4

Tatum

I’mtwo cocktails past the point of getting defensive or even bothering to protect my heart or other body parts that Harrison Decker has the innate ability to arouse.

After a few rapid blinks, I riddle through the alcohol fog that I was happily letting sink into my body when I was blindsided. “I thought we decided to move forward. Forget the past and all that jazz?” Enjoying the cocktail and the company of this after-party a little too much, I take another sip.

Harrison’s knee is bouncing, and he looks down at the floor between his feet. “We did, but I have questions that I can’t seem to answer.” When he looks at me again, a tenderness tinges his eyes. No smile is found, which is odd, considering his demeanor is usually jovial. Or maybe that’s just the impression I’ve gotten over the years.

Not sure where we’re going with this, I settle in, resting back on a hand against the low leather couch. The motion has the toe of my shoes bumped against his, and I don’t bother moving it. “What’s the question again?”

“Why’d you make me promise not to contact you?”

“You were right there agreeing with me. At first, it was a joke, like this will be fun, meaningless sex, a romp on a yacht in the harbor, but . . .”

“But then?”

I look away. “You had my number, Harrison. I didn’t have yours.” I finish the ice-filled drink, wishing I had ordered one without so I’d still have some vodka left. I’m thinking I’ll need it for this conversation. “We should leave the heavier topics for another day and get another drink instead.”

He doesn’t bother dancing around the topic and steps right into the fire. “Nick and Natalie have been together practically since the minute they met, which happens to be the same time we met.” He looks up at a small scuffle beyond the velvet ropes. When our gazes meet again, he adds, “You could have gotten my number when they got together.”

I rest my hand on his knee, trying to calm the anxiety revealing itself. “Harrison . . .” I find myself sighing as if I’m giving up; hopefully, the angrier side I’ve been holding so tightly to when it comes to him.Is it so bad to give in?“Natalie and I are a lot alike, but we’re not the same person. Her heart is open, so exposed and ready to be hurt?—”

“Nick won’t hurt her.”

Getting to know my best friend’s husband over the years has shown me that true love exists. I’ve borne witness to it. Nick would do anything for Natalie, and she would do anything for him. They’re committed in legal ways, but this baby cements them as forever tied to each other. “I know he won’t. I meant before him. Natalie and I, God, we’ve done some crazy things, partied more than our fair share, and been the life of them. We never ran from being the center of attention. Worse, I ran into the arms of the baddest boy in the room. They were easy to find, usually with a cigarette or joint hanging out of the side of their mouths. We’ve both lived carelessly—her with her gentle heart, me with my willingness to prove to the world how I didn’t need anyone.”

“Didn’t?”

“Don’t. Idon’tneed anyone, Harrison. That’s your warning. If you proceed, do it cautiously because I always hurt the innocent. And I don’t think I’ll ever change.”

“Do you want to?” he asks with no fear heard in his voice. I detect a little disappointment, though.

“And set myself up to be hurt again? Not really into that either.”

He shakes his head in seeming disbelief. Then he drinks, his gaze sliding around the crowd in front of us. “You know, Tatum, I think you’re right. I think we need another round of drinks.” He stands and passes the table full of bottles, a free setup spread across the white lacquer top. Watching him, he weaves around the bouncer who lifts the red rope for him to pass.

Sitting forward on the backless couch, I set my glass down on the table and then stand to peer across the top of the crowded bar. The VIP area has a good vantage point, and as the sexiest man in the place, Harrison easily stands out. Then my heart sinks to the pit of my stomach as two women strike up a conversation with him. They’re leaning in, flirting, and he’s eating it right up with that stupid smirk on his face. Anger flares inside.Anger or jealousy?I’m not sure because the burn feels the same either way.

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