Page 315 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

She’s getting close to those lines, if crossed it can be hard to undo the damage already done. “Tatum,” I warn, getting her attention. “I don’t hate that you’re having my baby—whether that be in LA, New York, or Nova Scotia—don’t turn me into the bad guy for something I never said or even inferred. I’m going to say this again. We’ll talk about it when we get home. I’m not doing it in the car.”

“Maybe you don’t get that choice. I don’t have a say? God, I thought you were different. Sure, you have an arrogant side, but it wasn’t jerk macho.”

I grip the steering wheel, my anger starting to boil. “That’s a lot of fucking accusations in a four-block radius. Keep going, Tatum, and we’ll fucking do this and get it out of the way.”

“I don’t want to get it out of the way. I want it resolved. You have me living in a purgatory not knowing if I’m going to heaven or hell.”

“Hell, being LA? Wow,” I say, shaking my head.

“To me, it is. Watching you at that party wasn’t what I expected to see. You know I get jealous and although I’m working on that, I don’t like women shoved in my face.”

“You’re confusing what you think happened and reality.”

She scoffs so loud and then laughs deliriously that I glance over at her. “Me confusing reality. That’s rich. And while we’re at this, why are you driving your pregnant girlfriend when you’ve been drinking?”

She backs her bark with her bite, cutting her teeth deep. I need to take a breath, take a walk, put some space between us. I pull into my garage and cut the engine, ready to face her head on with this since that’s the road she’s choosing to travel tonight.

She gets out so fast that I don’t even have time to help her. I follow her inside the house. She takes off her heels and then storms down the hall. “This was supposed to be my birthday present, not Decker’s back in party mode weekend.”

I expect the sound of a door slamming. I don’t get that, though. Walking slowly toward the bedroom, my frame fills the doorway. I don’t breach the entrance, giving her all the space she fucking needs to cool down. When she comes out of the closet with her suitcase in hand and dumps it on the bed, I ask, “What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving.”

“It’s eleven o’clock at night. Where are you going?”

“I’m sure there’s a redeye I can catch,” she replies with her back to me.

My eyes practically bulge out of my head. “You’re flying home?”

Whipping back, she says, “Yes.Exactly. Home.”

Now I’m pissed.“That’s it. That’s fucking it.” I walk into the bedroom and shut the damn suitcase to the sound of her gasp. “You’re not running away from this, away from me. This isn’t what you do anymore. You have to break the pattern, Tatum.”

“Every time I stay, I’m the one who gets screwed.” The anger has left her shoulders sagging. Defeat rings through her tone, but I’m not sure what she thinks she’s lost. An argument? Me? What she thought her life would be?

I’m lost in her hurricane as it destroys everything in her path.Am I next?No. I refuse to be. More than I did before, I get why she’s defensive. Her parents suck. But I’m not like them. I desperately want her in my life. I love her, for fuck’s sake. Now calls for being honest with that love though. “The second we touch on something too close for comfort, you barricade yourself behind walls too thick to break through.”

Her arms cross over her chest in indignation. I’ve seen it too many times to play naïve. Her chin is raised as she mentally gathers her weapons together. I try to end this deadlock we find ourselves in, not wanting to fight with her about things that keep resurfacing. “You only get mad when you feel attacked. We may not know every little fucking thing about each other, but I’ve seen you for who you are, and you’ve seen me. I’m not a fucking stranger, Tatum?—”

Her gaze hits me in the chest, slicing me up the center until she reaches my eyes. Fires shine so bright that she could light up the universe with her anger. It takes her a few seconds to come to me, the woman I know so well inside the walls of her apartment. Vulnerability douses the flames, and she says, “I’m lost in your world, Harrison, an outsider that feels misplaced.”

“We’re together, so why would you feel that way?”

“Because I’m standing in the middle of a party of strangers being hit on while you schmoozed. Why bother taking me at all?”She does have a point. I hated that too.

“I’m sorry for leaving you. I guess I always saw you as more of a party girl or socialite and would like to be there.”

A humorless laugh rattles her chest as she looks down at the suitcase on the bed. “I used to revel in those titles, feeling I had earned them after endless partying for years.” She looks up at me, and says, “I’ve never felt ashamed of being either. Until now.” She moves toward the bathroom and with her back to me, she adds, “You’re right. It’s too late for me to figure out how to fly home right now. I’m tired, so I’m going to bed.”

“It’s probably best if we both get some rest, so we can figure this out tomorrow.” I walk to the door to give her privacy. I didn’t have a drink earlier, but I’m damn well having one now.

Before I leave, I say, “For the record, I didn’t have anything except Perrier to drink because the things that I thought mattered when I was living in LA full-time don’t anymore. Only you and that baby do.”

She sucks in a staggered breath, and then I hear her start crying. I go to her, rubbing her shoulders, and kiss the back of her head. “It’s going to be okay, Tate.”

Turning in my hold, she hugs me so tight that I can’t see her face. “Promise me. Promise me that you’ll always be there for the baby, even if you can’t be there for me.”

“I’m going to be there for both of you. I love you, Tate.”

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