Page 297 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

“I’m talking about a large grocery store where everything’s all in one place?”

“I’m not sure I have.” She shrugs indifferently, taking a cracker from the wrapper. “Does it matter?”

“No. Not in the scheme of things, but what about the baby?”

She starts choking with cracker crumbs stuck to her lips as she grabs for the water. Chugging some down, she clears her throat and then shoots me a dirty look. “What about the baby?”

Wow, that’s a trigger. I need to avoid those landmines in the future, if possible. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She clears her throat once more and takes another drink. “What did you mean what about the baby?”

It was a dig. I know it, and she knows it. Now the baby knows I’m an asshole. I can’t help wondering how Tatum’s going to manage this. “I know you can take care of yourself, but this is bigger than you or me.”

Offense widens her eyes and has her jerking away from me. “Excuse me? I don’t like what you’re insinuating.”

Insinuating . . . What the fuck am I doing?“Fuck. I didn’t mean you’re irresponsible or anything.”

Moving to the other side of the island, she says, “That’s not sorry.”

“I’m sorry.” I don’t have an ego that keeps me from apologizing when I’m in the wrong, and on night one, I’m in the fucking wrong. Lesson learned.

She crosses her arms over her chest, looking at me like she doesn’t know me at all. “What’s wrong with you?”

I’m coming to realize that I can’t stay silent on this topic. “I need to talk about this. I thought we’d come home to do that.”

“Home. This is my home, not yours. Yours is in Los Angeles. I don’t know if you live in an apartment or a house, near the beach, or above Sunset. I don’t know any of that.”

“But you could. I want to take you there. I want to introduce you to my family.”

“The family that shuffled you off on a bunch of nannies?”

The low blow hits its intended destination—below the belt. I’m not saying it’s not owed, but I’m starting to see some of the old Tatum returning. And that won’t bode well for me.

I stare at her, cautious like I’m trapped in a cage with a pacing tiger. Is it going to eat me alive or let me live? One thing I won’t accept is a dig toward my family, at least not from anyone else. “I joke about the nannies. The stories are true, but I find them funny. If you want to know the real reason I had so many, it’s because my mom was working at the time. Four kids is a lot to handle with a full-time job. My dad wasn’t the kid-rearing type. Still isn’t.” The happiness in her eyes escaped as soon as I screwed up and opened my mouth. But the fire that now resides inside means this isn’t going to be resolved with an apology.

There are lines we don’t cross, and my family is mine. “The sacrifices fell on my mom’s plate. Instead of putting us in a daycare, she hired nannies to keep us home. They would take us to our sports and make our meals instead of having to eat from a drive-thru. So if you want to punch me with what a handful I was, go right ahead, but be careful when you get too close to dragging my mom into this.”

Tatum doesn’t seem to understand that when I speak of my family, she’s now a part of it, a member I’m willing to do anything to protect.

The breath she sucks in is harsh and not taken easily. Her hands release the edge of the island, and she takes a step back. “I’m not sure what just happened, but I don’t want this.”

“This or us, Tate?”

“Are they one and the same?” There’s no spite in her tone, and the fire is starting to simmer. The question still stings, though, and I have a feeling I’m witnessing her pattern. Push me away to save herself the pain from another day. At least I know what she thinks of me.

“I know my answer, but what is yours?” I ask.

“This isn’t a tit for tat, Harrison. I’m not mad. I’m learning. Natalie once told me that she and Nick had to learn how to fight. They had to understand where the other came from instinctually. I’m trying to fight my own habits and give you the benefit of the doubt.” She exhales in a huff and then sighs, coming back around the island.

Holding the hem of my shirt, she adds, “I’m trying for you.”

I see it in her eyes, the sincerity shaping her expression, and the way she holds my shirt like she’s trying to hold on to me.

“It’s going to take more than an argument about nannies and grocery stores to scare me away.”

A soft smile hangs on her face. “I had teachers during the day when I was little and a nanny who was also the housekeeper. She still works for my parents, maintaining the Manhattan property. So I get it. We come from similar backgrounds even though things were different.”

“I don’t want the same thing I had. I don’t want nannies raising our kids. During the day, fine because we have to work, but at night, I want to be there for them.”

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