by S. L. Scott
A guy rushing in the opposite direction hits my shoulder, sending me back a few steps and wobbling. I catch myself, along with my breath, and then run as fast as I can while dressed in a short skirt and these damn high but stunning, heels. I’d take them off if I weren’t well aware of the grossness on New York’s sidewalks.
Just past the entrance to the bar, I stop, my chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as I stare at the spot where I left him. I look back at the door and then to the curb where cabs and cars pick up and drop off passengers.
A heavy exhale escapes me as defeat sets in, smothering the excitement that had been building like this is some dumb love story.
What did I really expect?
That he’d still be here like a fool in the middle of the sidewalk waiting for me to hop out of a car two blocks down and run against the current to get back to him? As if.
Who’s the fool now?
That’d be me.
5
Tatum
My stomach vibrates.
Ugh.
The stupid sensation won’t go away even when I roll over. I can still feel it through the mattress. With my eyes closed, I rub my hand under the covers until I find the annoyance—my phone.
It does this most mornings like I don’t have anything better to do than sleep. Beauty doesn’t happen naturally. Stupid alarm. Sure, I’m to blame for setting it, but a good eight to ten hours is necessary, especially after a night of drinking.
My heart thumps in my chest as memories of last night come to mind. A certain man not standing where I left him causes a pang right after. I open my eyes and tap on my screen, shutting off the alarm.
Staring up into the darkness, I lie in my king-sized bed fit for a queen. Pillows, a fluffy down comforter, and the best sheets money can buy surround me. This is a life of luxury, one that usually makes me smile.
So why do I feel sad?
Reaching over, I hit the button built into the nightstand. The blackout shades start a slow ascent, and the sun invades my bedroom, the bright light burning my eyes. Grabbing a pillow, I pull it over my face and groan.
I can call in sick or just tell Natalie I want the day off. She’d understand. She always does. She’s never been one to put on pressure or demand more than she feels she can.
Spoiler alert: She can. As the boss, she can demand that her employees show up for work.
With enough time to get ready and one other activity, I have to decide between coffee at a café, a workout, or a nap. Sighing, I throw the covers off and get to my feet. Workout it is.
I grab my workout clothes, thinking it’s the best weapon against fighting this bad mood I can’t seem to shake.
Thirty minutes later, I’m looking around the gym, wondering why it’s so packed. Don’t people have work to do or something else at 8:30 in the morning? I’ve had to wait to use every machine this morning. Wrapping up on the treadmill, I hit my stride on the third mile—my pace faster than usual and on a decent incline. The endorphins were good for my attitude because I’m feeling much better now.
“Tatum?”
I glance to my right at the man staring straight at me. His face is familiar, but I can’t quite place him. At least he’s cute. I pull my earbud out on the side where he is and slow the treadmill to a walking pace. With my hands on my hips, I try to steady my breath. “Hi?”
He picks up on the question without me having to ask, and replies, “Elijah. Elijah Morris. You helped me with—”
“Your proposal.” Snapping, I point. “I remember. Your father connected us.”
“Yes, he loves to spoil my mom.”
“As he should.” I punch stop on the treadmill. “Your proposal, that must have been, what? Two years ago? I guess you’re married and living the life these days.”
Still walking next to me, he looks through the window ahead of him and shakes his head. “Actually, the wedding never happened.” He ends his treadmill session and slows to a stop on the belt. Gripping the sides, he looks at me. “She cheated on me with my cousin the night before the wedding.” Wow, that’s a bitch. More accurately, she is.
Cheating is the lowest. It’s happened to the best of us, though—me and Natalie included. Elijah always seemed like a good guy, so offense fills me on his behalf. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“My mom had a sense about her the moment they met, not a good one. If you know what I mean.”
“I do.” My answer makes me cringe right after. I mean, someone telling you they got screwed over on their wedding day probably doesn’t want to hear those two magical words . . . wait. What? Magical? I shake my head and inwardly roll my eyes at myself.
He continues, not noticing my crazy or maybe just polite enough not to point it out, “But sometimes we get caught in the moment more than the reality of what’s right in front of us.” Shifting to face me, he adds, “I was thinking we could go out sometime.”
“Me?” I ask, not seeing that coming. “Ah. I get it. I’m right in front of you. You took that as a sign.”
Shrugging, he says, “It couldn’t hurt to find out.”
Hurt. I don’t get hurt too much, but disappointment finds me easily when it comes to men. “I appreciate the words of wisdom and self-realization, but it’s not wise for me to date clients.”
“I’m not one, not anymore.”
Laughing, I waggle my finger. “I see what you did there, but I think we should keep things professional.” Turning back to my machine, I punch it up a level to start walking again. “You’re attractive, and I’m sure you can date whoever you want. You should play the field, recover from the breakup, and then find your co-signer for a property out in the Hamptons.”
“That’s a very specific dream, but I’m more interested in this weekend and spending time with you.” Ah. He’s still playing the field and trying to play me. Although I didn’t need the confirmation to see through the situation, he has me thinking about my own goals. I hit the next level on the treadmill.
Working with my best friend has been amazing, and making her dreams come true has been rewarding. But am I settling when I’m actually working for her and more focused on her dreams than my own?
Here I thought being twenty-six, being able to do whatever I want and living on my own in New York City was a dream come true. A lot of my friends still live at home.
Home.
At what point does it switch from your parents' home to your own? I thought that’s what I had, but maybe I don’t. Not yet. And what dream of mine has come true?
Is it really an accomplishment that I can stay out as late as I want and sleep in on the weekends? I have no obligations or commitments other than showing up for work by ten in the morning. I live life on my terms. Shouldn’t that be enough? At least, for now?
In college, I wanted to conquer the world and do something that mattered. I never had an interest in the shipping industry of the family business anyway. I wanted to make a difference somehow, forge my own path, and break away from the legacy of the Devreux name.
What happened to that girl? My actions—wild to the core, a party girl, a socialite—used to be motivated by getting my parents’ attention. Though when I got out of hand, my parents didn’t ground me. Instead, it was Natalie who talked sense into me. Tried and true, she was always there no matter how I behaved.
But that’s not her job anymore. Maybe it’s time I grow up and reevaluate my goals. Or set some in the first place. She’s now Mrs. Christiansen, but I’m still just me.
Alone.
For Natalie, baby makes three. Where does that leave me?
Alone.
I like my morning routine, but it might be nice to wake up next to someone every now and again. I need to think bigger, and now more than ever, I need to think about the future. I need to focus on myself.
I need to make a change, get off this hamster wheel routine or the treadmill to forge my own path. I love my job, but I need to grow it and make it mine.
“Tatum?�
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“Huh?” I’d almost forgotten about Elijah. Elijah’s cute and all. His ring in a candy box proposal was sweet, but he’s not my type.
“What level are you going? I can set mine to match.” He points at the display screen.
“Match?” I sound like an idiot, but—Oh! “The treadmill. Match? I don’t want to match. I want to stand out. To level up to my full potential.”
His head jerks back. “So twelve?”
Not sure why he seems shocked, but I don’t have time to overanalyze it. My head is spinning with bigger plans than where I am now . . . in life or at the gym. “That’s it! I don’t want to be a ten. I want to be a twelve.”
“You already are. I was intimidated to even come over here to talk to you.” That makes me smile. Maybe he was sincere earlier.
This isn’t about being single or keeping up with my best friend. This is about developing into the person I’m meant to be. My feet land on the rails of the treadmill, and I punch stop. “I’m sorry. I need to go.” Jumping off the treadmill, I’m a woman on a mission. “See you around, Elijah, and let me know if you need our gifting services again.” I head toward the dressing room.
“I will,” he replies, confusion ringing in his tone. “See you around.”
Walking into the bright and airy SoHo office, I’m greeted by Renee, our reception assistant. “Good morning, Tatum.”
“Good morning. Is Natalie in?”
“She is.”
“Thanks.” I round the corner and head straight for Natalie’s office, which is in the corner next to mine. I say hello to a few of the staff on the way but waste no time. Pushing into her office, I lean against the door. “I had an epiphany.”
She peers up with a raised eyebrow. “Care to share, or are you going to hold that dramatic pose all morning?”
“Holding the pose. How do I look?”
“Gorgeous, darling. Want me to take a pic?”
I start laughing and shut the door. “No. I was only doing it for effect.” I sit across from her and add, “I’m more than a sidekick.”
“Sidekick? Who called you that? If anything, I’ve always been your sidekick.”
“Precisely. Not that you’re second fiddle or anything, but I’m the one who was out there—”
“And I was the one reining you in.”
Grinning, it feels like old times with her, the days when we were younger and a lot more naïve. We spent every minute together as soon as we got out of school and in the summers. We’ve not quite captured that feeling in a while, until now. “It’s like you can read my mind.”
She shrugs as if that’s a given and begins straightening her desk. “We’re besties for a reason.”
“I love you, Natalie.”
Her gaze flies up to meet mine. “And I thought the entrance was dramatic. I love you, too, Tatum,” she replies, giggling. “Now, what’s going on with you today?”
“The baby. I’ve been thinking a lot about this.”
A low gasp is heard, and then she leans forward conspiratorially. “I’m so glad because I can’t think of anything else.”
Reaching across the desk, I cover her hands with mine. “I’m here for you. This is incredible news, and I don’t want to miss anything.”
Tears well in her eyes, and she attempts to blink them back. It’s not working. It never does. You would think we’d always be wearing waterproof mascara. One day we’ll learn. I’m quick to grab a tissue from a box behind her so she can dab the corners of her eyes before the tears mess up her makeup.
“Thank you,” she says.
“You’re welcome.” Standing up, I walk to the window to peer out. When I look back, I ask, “Do you have names?”
“Oh my God. Now you’re reading my mind.” She bursts out laughing. And then she pulls a pad from her Louis Vuitton and drops it on the desk. “I have a small list started.”
When I glance over at the pink pad, my eyes go wide. “Small? Santa’s list is shorter.” She snort-laughs. I grab the pad and then shoot her a glare. “Rufus? I’m nixing Rufus. Nigel, Cook, and Devon are gone as well.”
“What’s wrong with Devon?”
“Devon Spears?” I reply as if she should remember this as clearly as I do. “The jerk sophomore year in high school?”
She cups her forehead as recognition fills her eyes. “I forgot about him. Definitely cross that name off the list. He was a total asshole. He told his brother, David, a senior, that I wouldn’t put out, so he shouldn’t ask me to prom.”
“But you didn’t put out in high school.”
Her eyes slide to the monitor in front of her, a sly smile working its way onto her face before she giggles. “Good thing he didn’t take me to prom then.” She types something and then turns back to me. “At this rate, you’ll have a name narrowed down in no time.”
“Happy to be of service.” I take a pen from her desk and start scratching through more names. “It’s too early to know if you’re having a boy, right?”
“Too early, but I don’t know,” she says, rubbing her flat stomach. “I feel like I’ll have a boy. Nick has a brother, and I have a brother. It seems to be leaning that way with all the evidence.”
“Sounds like you beat the odds. Anyway, I need a girl to spoil rotten, take shopping, and leave my wealth of designer wardrobe to one day, like my bag collection.”
Her fingers were poised over the keyboard but never land. Instead, she turns to me and lowers her hands to the desk. “As much as I’m already envious of a girl I don’t have, you act as though you’ll never have kids.”
I realize kids aren’t something I’ve thought about in a realistic way. “I’ve not been in a serious relationship in years. Not that I need a man, but I can’t say I want kids anytime soon. What would I do with a baby?”
Exasperated, she rocks back in her chair. “What am I going to do with you, Tate? You love a baby and raise it.”
I plop down in the chair again. “You make it sound so easy.”
“I know it won’t be, but I think our instincts will kick in. I also have a stack of books as tall as my bed to study in the next seven months.”
“You’re fifty steps ahead of me, friend.” I return her newly revised list to her and set the pen on the glass top desk.
Laughing, she studies the list. “I’m not going to be one of those people forcing others to join me for this ride.” Her eyes return to mine. “Having a baby is something Nick and I talked about for the past year. We weren’t trying, but since we weren’t using protection, I guess you could say we weren’t not trying either.”
“So, what you’re saying is this baby is a double negative?”
Horror squeezes her face. “What? No, I didn’t say that.” Two protective arms cover her stomach again, her instincts already kicking in. “This baby is a double positive.” When she grins, the tension releases from her shoulders.
“I’m only teasing. As for my epiphany . . .”
“Yes, back to that.”
I’m so excited I’m literally on the edge of the seat. “I want to take more of a lead at STJ. I assume you’ll be slowing down a bit since you’re growing a baby and eventually need some time off. When that happens, I want you to know the company will be fine.”
“You’ve always been a good partner.”
“Emotionally.”
“And you’re a hard worker. You helped me build this business. If not for you, I’d be wrapping stuff and hoping I’m leveling up for the clientele.”
“And you think I help do that?”
“I know you do, and this conversation is one we need to have. I suspect I’ll be away from the office more, especially after the baby is born. What are you proposing?”
Sitting back, I reply, “When I was on the treadmill this morning, the words level and match came up.”
“Out of thin air?”
“No, Elijah Morris, a former client, was chatting me up. Fiancée did the deed with the cousin, and he’s now single. Poor guy.”
I give him a moment of silence and then add, “He asked me out, but that’s neither here nor there.”
“That’s terrible. Not the asking out part but the fiancée doing the deed with the cousin. Also, why is asking you out neither here nor there? If I remember correctly, he’s quite cute, great job down on Wall Street, and his dad is one of our top-tier clients.”
“I want to be a twelve. Not in looks or personality. In life. I believe in your dream, and it’s become mine without me realizing it. Until now.”
Looking pleased, she reflects the excitement I feel inside with her graceful expression. The same hope I feel lies in her eyes. “Do you have a plan, or is this the start of the conversation?”
“A little of both. What I was thinking is that I could reorganize the company.” I roll my hand in the air as a thrill zips up my spine. “We can have levels and reps. You and I could work exclusively with the top-tier clients. We have Phoebe training in the mid-range.”
“Which is?”
“The fifty to one-hundred-thousand budget range.”
“I think we’ll need to add to that range. It’s been popular this last year and a little easier, time-wise, for us to pull off.”
“Agreed. It’s more about the gift than the production in that range, making it less time-consuming and a quicker turnaround from the larger setups. I think we can even divide the under fifty budget into two levels, hiring maybe two or three people to train in that range. I want to go over the numbers once more to confirm, but those were the fastest growing areas of the business in the first quarter.”
“We turn away potential clients every day due to lack of time, so this would solve that issue to an extent. I just have one question.”
“Which is?”
She stands and holds out her hand. “When do you want to start?”
Shaking her hand, I stand as well. “Right now.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal.”
