Page 282 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

Good to know. Good to know.

While she goes over this elaborate scheme that she apparently just whipped up off the top of her head, I look at my phone, wondering why I haven’t heard back from Tatum.

“Harrison?”

I look up. “Yeah?”

“Did you hear anything I said?”

I look to the left, trying to recall, but all I get is, “Two weeks Tuesday.”

She starts cackling. “Oh my God, you’re smitten with Tatum.” Adjusting a knob on the stove, she then passes by and pats me on the way to the stairs. “That is the cutest thing ever.”

“Don’t say anything to her, okay? She’s skittish.”

“Boy, don’t I know it.” Climbing a few steps, she turns back to add, “Your secret is safe with me. Will you still help me with the plan?”

“Anything you need.”

“I’ll text you the details. If you’re hungry, there’s food in the fridge, and the soup will be done in an hour.” She starts walking again. “I want to get the mural sketched so I can move onto painting. There’s so much left to do and only seven months to do it. I’ll be back down in a few minutes to check on the soup.”

“Thanks, Natalie.”

“My pleasure.”

I can’t sit here wondering what Tatum needed to talk to me about, so I decide to try to find her. I’ll start with her apartment.

19

Harrison

I can’t getpast her doorman.

After pleading my case, he threatened to call the police. At least I know she’s safe in this building.

Standing outside on the sidewalk to avoid getting a criminal record in New York City, I call her. Again, there’s no answer. “Fuck.”

Going a different route, I call Natalie. “Hello?” She answers like she didn’t see my name pop up.

“Natalie, it’s Harrison.”

A soft laugh is heard. “I know. Does anybody not have caller ID?”

“Nope. Hey, I’m still looking for Tatum. I went by her apartment, but she’s not around. Do you think she’s at the office?”

“I can find out. Hold on.” The line goes quiet as I stand here waiting, trying to recall if she ever told me where in the city the office is located.

I shift, thinking I should grab a cab because I’m either heading to STJ’s offices or heading back to Natalie’s. I walk to the curb, but when I hear, “Harrison?” I stop in the middle of the sidewalk.

“It’s me.”

“She’s at the office. I just confirmed on the security camera. It’s after hours, so no one answered, and I didn’t want to call her because it would ruin the surprise.”

“I’m not trying to surprise her. I’m trying to find her.”

“Same thing,” she says. If pep in her step could be heard in a voice, she just nailed it. “I’ll text you the office code to get in. It will be so romantic.”

Holding my finger up like she can see it, I reply, “I think that’s making this bigger than it is.”

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