Page 261 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

“I’m sorry you’ve experienced that, but I’m not looking to burn you. Last night was good, don’t you think?” He pulls my hand to his mouth and kisses it.

The feel of his lips against my head brings a sense of security, safety found in the truth of his words.Temporary.I have to remind myself not to get invested. “It was, but?—”

“Let’s save the buts for another day.” Lying back, he rests his head against the headboard while still holding my hand.

Why can’t I enjoy what this is in the moment instead of worrying about what’s next when it comes to us? The past might be the best indicator. I silence my fears instead of voicing them, willing to try anything to live in the right here and now like him.

I lie next to him at first but eventually move in and cuddle. His arm wraps around me, holding me close, and then he kisses my head. It’s easy to lose track of time with him.

Not sure what time of day it is, I glance at my clock on the nightstand. 10:15.

“Oh, shit.” I jump up, scrambling to my feet. “I have brunch with my mother today.”

“What time?”

“Eleven thirty, but it’s a cab ride back to the Upper East Side.” I cut across the room to my main walk-in closet. “She gives me the hardest time if I’m even a minute late or have a hair out of place.”

“How will it go after yesterday?” Harrison asks.

“It will be fine. We’ll talk about what happened at dinner last night in passing, and she’ll move on. Nothing new. I’ll be fine. I’m used to it.”

“That doesn’t sound healthy.”

“Healthy,” I say, laughing humorlessly. I come out with a dress and my undergarments. “It’s sweet that you think it should be. Every family has its difficulties, Harrison. I’m sure my family’s no different.”

I think of Natalie. Her parents were there for me when mine were away for business or pleasure, sitting in the front row for us when we graduated and planning parties to celebrate our big days—sweet sixteen, high school graduation, and then a big dinner at one of our favorite restaurants after we graduated college. It took months to coordinate and make happen after we walked across that stage, mainly because it was hard to pin my parents down for a date.Yet they could turn up for my best friend’s anniversary party at the last minute.Makes me wonder if that was only because Martine and John St. James were attending since they’re best friends. A fly-in, fly-out visit to New York to see their friends sounds reasonable.

If only they’d do the same for their daughter.

“My family can be so annoying. I’m lost in the middle of this pack of kids. It’s loud at the dinner table. Forget about being heard. The schedule conflicts—my sister’s ballet, baseball games, missed plays, and award banquets. Hell, they forgot to pick me up after the regional championship one time. Simply slipped their minds because my brother had been in a car accident.” He watches me pick out my jewelry. “Don’t worry. It wasn’t serious other than he took my dad’s new Porsche out for a joyride and got into a fender bender.”

“What happened to you?”

“They remembered around eleven that night when they did their nightly round of goodnights. It took them two hours to get across LA and two hours home. Not one word about my game. It was all about my older brother and that fucking Porsche.” Seeming to catch himself, he chuckles. “Despite how I sound, that stuff doesn’t matter now. I wouldn’t trade my family for anything, not even for the Christiansens. Their family dynamic is great, but there’s something to appreciate about the crazy of your own family. Is that what you’re missing? The crazy? Or the stability. Most fall into one camp or the other.”

“I’m missing everything. I was raised as a third adult in the house, a friend instead of a kid.”

He angles his head and then gets up. Walking behind me, he slides his hands around me, and though my instinct is to slip out of his hold, I stay. He kisses my shoulder, his lips lingering, and if I had a say, I’d keep them there forever.

When I look up, his eyes are filled with a sympathy that makes me squirm, hating that he feels sorry for me. I say, “They’re not bad people. Just preferring to jet set than sit home and raise a daughter. They gave me everything, more than I could ever want or need.”

“Okay.”

I don’t look at him. He has no right to judge me when it sounds like his family has problems of their own. “Seriously. I got a custom-painted convertible for my sixteenth birthday and a blank check for each of my graduations. This apartment was for my twenty-fifth birthday.”

“That’s cool.” His tone is so flat that I tense from the words he’snotsaying.

I head for the bathroom but whip back to face him before I enter. “You know what? I don’t have to justify my situation to anyone, least of all, to a man I barely know, even if he was just inside me. I need to get ready, so you can see yourself out.” I tighten my robe, fisting it closed at the top. “Maybe we’ll see each other around.”Hello, salt. Hello, wound.It’s not so nice to see you again.I hate how my defenses work against me as well. I may win this battle, but I’ll lose him in the war.

Standing where I left him, he narrows his eyes and shakes his head. “What the fuck just happened? And what do you mean by maybe?”

“Exactly how it sounds. You’re busy building your business, and I’m busy building my career. Last night was fun, but we knew it was only temporary.”

“Is that what we’re doing, Tatum? We’re walking away because you got uncomfortable over something that I had nothing to do with?” He clicks his tongue as if disgust covers it and walks toward the end of the bed to grab his pants.

“I’m just not going to be around today, so I thought you might have other plans as well.”

With one leg in his pants, he slips his other through the other leg. A humorless chuckle comes before I’m met with a hard glare. He grabs his shirt, punching his arm like he wishes it was a wall. “Fine. Whatever you want. That’s what you’re used to, right? Getting everything you want from blank checks to three-million-dollar apartments? If that’s not love, I don’t know what is,” he spits sarcastically.

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