"Everything is good, Tate," Mom said after petting Charlie for a few seconds. "It's just ... everything has changed so fast. Good changes, I think." She looked up at me, her eyes shining. "Sometimes I just miss your dad. The life we had."
My heart twisted a little inside my chest. "Of course you do. I miss him too." I thought about the relationship they’d had, wistful both for the safety it had afforded me and for the belief I’d had in that kind of easy love.
We sat quietly for a moment and petted the big brown dog between us, giving our silent thoughts to my dad.
Then Mom said, "Tell me about Max."
It was my turn to sigh, and Charlie lifted his head giving me a look that said, "Do I need to come back over there?"
"He's a client." I wanted to be able to say that and nothing more. I wanted to feel that and nothing more, but I'd complicated things so completely I didn't know where to begin sorting through my thoughts and feelings about it all. "And I slept with him. And I have feelings for him that are not professional."
Mom was grinning widely and bouncing in her seat.
"Mom, that's not a good thing. My entire career—everything I've worked for—could be at risk. If anyone at work found out, I'd be ruined."
The smile notched down a couple degrees, but didn't fade. "You're a long way from Palo Alto, Tate."
I opened my mouth to tell her that wasn't the point, but Mom raised a hand, and Charlie looked at me again, and I swear he gave me a girl-hold-your-tongue look.
"I wasn't done," Mom said. "Just listen. I know you have spent a lot of years building your career. And I'm so, so proud of you. You're smart and beautiful and fierce, and you've made your way in a competitive world where people told you maybe you couldn't do it." She took a breath, looked worried for a second. "But you've built yourself a little empire at work, and I don't think you're happy. You go home to an empty house, you spend your evenings working and thinking about work—"
"I crochet and run,” I pointed out, feeling a little bit attacked.
"Solitary pursuits, Tate. You're alone too much. I know I've pushed you in the past to try to get married again, build a family. And that's a little bit selfish of me because I'd love to be part of a family again. But it's more than that. I want you to be surrounded by love, to be with people who appreciate you and build you up, to have part of your world be something you don't have to fight so hard for all the time."
A little pang echoed through my chest. I wanted all that too, but it wasn’t the point. "Mom, none of this has anything to do with Max, with what's happening here. I want all that too, but he's a client."
"For now, maybe. But this is the first time in years I've seen your cheeks glow this way. It's the first time in forever that you've stayed out all night, and that's so unlike you that I know there's something to this." Mom’s words ignited a completely unwelcome flicker of hope in my heart.
"It doesn't matter. It can't happen."
"Not if you keep telling yourself that. What if you took off the rigid self-control for a little while, Tate? What if you just lived by feel, did what felt good, let yourself enjoy something?"
"I think you just described chaos," I said, standing because the energy zipping around inside me wouldn't let me sit anymore. I stepped around behind my chair and looked around the perfect little grassy yard, up at the bright blue San Diego sky. "People can't just act on emotion all the time. Nothing would ever get done."
"My point is that you never let yourself go. I think, if you and Max are enjoying each other, that it would be possible for you to just let things happen and see where they go. You're away from the office, and I know you much too well to believe that becoming involved romantically, or sexually, if that's all this is—"
"Mom!" My cheeks heated. I couldn't look at my mother while she talked about my sex life.
"Sorry, but we're both adults now. We can talk about sex."
"We cannot talk about sex, Mom." I might have liked to, but I could feel myself reverting to a twelve-year old version of me who did not want to talk about anything like that with my mother. Ew.
"Live this life, Tate. It's the only one we get." Her voice was quieter, pleading. I looked at her. "Just let yourself live, honey. If we learned anything from Dad, I hope it was that. It's all over too soon. Live before it is."
I blew out a breath, the wild tumult inside me slowing a bit at her words as sadness welled up in me again.
Dad had taught us that, I thought. And he had lived before he had to leave. If I died tomorrow, would I be able to say that about myself?
I wanted to know Max better. I wanted to spend more time with him. I wanted to sleep with him again.
And maybe ... maybe it was worth the risk.
Chapter 135
Big Dogs and Sweat-Covered Eleven-Year-Old Unicorns
Max
Tate texted me late Thursday night after I spent a day checking my phone every fifteen minutes like a unicorn-obsessed eleven-year old girl waiting to find out if a boy liked me or not. Her message was just a simple hello, asking about my day and letting me know that Monday would be the official start of her tenure as CEO. I'd responded professionally, oddly disappointed but refusing to admit it, and left it at that. I sensed maybe we both needed a little distance to figure out what exactly we felt about everything that had happened between us.
Mostly I felt like I'd like to do it all again as soon as fucking possible.
But I knew getting in deeper was probably a bad idea.
We could keep things professional. At least that's what I was telling myself. And if that was what Tate decided too, then that would be that.
I'd checked in with Megan earlier in the day, let her know I wouldn't be around the office until the following week. Friday and Saturday I'd be helping out with some of the other players up in Oceanside—there was a Stars charity tournament and Tallulah had asked if I could get a few of our guys up to volunteer.
That night I turned in early—turns out staying up all night having sex and demolishing your house can take a lot out of a guy. I’d spent part of the day fixing the bookcase and curtains. And Friday morning had me up early on a long run.
The marine layer hung thick over the coast that morning, and the cooler air was welcome as I hit mile eight and got close to my reward—Joe's coffee. I'd run long enough to kill my ability to think too hard about anything beyond the rhythm of my body driving ahead, the searing pull of air through my lungs, my need to fucking get there. This was my job, after all. But as Joe's came in sight, something else began to push its way into my mind.
Someone else.
Someone tall and lean with long legs and a huge shaggy brown dog at her side. Someone wearing running tights and a t-back tank, laughing as she tried to control the huge mass of fur at the end of her leash.
Tate.
I stopped before she saw me and tried to cool down, jogging lightly in place and stretching a little, never letting the woman and dog out of my sight. She was running along the water's edge, but the huge dog kept pulling her toward the little waves rolling onto shore. Charlie, it seemed, wanted to swim.
I tried to pull myself together, and as soon as I could take a full breath, I turned off the path and began to cross the sand toward them. I didn't have a plan, hadn't figured out what to say. But it was like I didn't have a choice. There was no way I could have played it cool, just let them go by and pretended I didn't see them. My body was pulled toward Tate like a magnet.
"Hey," I said, coming to a stop where Tate had stopped running and was trying to keep Charlie from barreling into the water.
She glanced at me, wary, and then her face cleared and broke into a huge smile. "Hey."
My heart squeezed and danced.
Fuck. Stop it. I am not an eleven-year old girl.
"So," I said, trying to keep it casual and mostly failing. "This must be Charlie."
Upon hearing his name, the big dog turned his massive head and gave me an evaluative look with his
huge eyes, the mouth hanging slightly open in a doggy smile. He gave one more look to the ocean, which was clearly beckoning him, and then trotted over to head butt me in the hip.
"That's how he says hi," Tate said. "You're lucky he didn't jump on you and smash his wet face into your neck."
Charlie must've thought that was a suggestion, because a second later, his paws were on my shoulders and his sloppy wet mouth was pressed between my shoulder and my face.
"Oh, okay, hi," I said, taking a step back. The dog must've weighed over a hundred pounds. "He's huge," I laughed, petting him. "You weren't kidding."
"Right?" she said. "And now he's decided we should both swim. My shoes are wrecked."
I looked down at Tatum's running shoes, which were clearly soaked.
"Rinse them with fresh water when you get home. They'll be okay."
We focused on Charlie for a long minute, and when he'd had enough of molesting me and returned his interest to the surf rolling enticingly in and out, Tatum turned to me. "How are you?"
Suddenly, it was awkward. I didn't know what to say. "Yeah, good."
We'd already agreed to meet at the office Monday, so I doubted she was going to be working today. I'd planned to just go work the tournament and try not to think about her until then. But here she was, right in front of me, and it was taking everything in me not to touch her.
"What are you up to today?" she asked, watching Charlie play. She'd finally dropped the leash and he was dancing in and out of the little waves.
"There's a women's charity tournament in Oceanside," I said, contemplating the invitation that I knew was on the tip of my tongue.
"I think that was in the paper. You playing?"
"Just a little exhibition match," I told her. "Mostly just going up to man the booths and help out. Wanna come?" The invitation had fallen from my lips before I'd even really thought about it.
Tate didn't say anything for a minute, dropping her eyes to the sand. "I'm supposed to say no. I decided last night that we would just keep this professional." Her voice didn't match the words. Her body was so close, I could smell the vanilla scent of her, feel the warmth of her shoulder next to mine.
I reached out and took her hand, and a second later she was pressed against me. "Are you saying no?" I asked her.
"I should." She looked up at me. "I really should."
Our lips met in a rush, the kiss was demanding at first and then we both backed off slightly, enjoying the touch, the slide, the slick, and the release of being together again. "Or maybe not," I said, moving my mouth from hers but holding her against me. I was supposed to have decided the same thing. That this wasn't a good idea. Had low odds of being anything real. Tate was here temporarily.
Despite the three thousand reasons I'd told myself to remain distant, be professional, here we were again. And I didn't care about any of that.
"Max," Tate laughed. "You're soaking wet."
I released her immediately. "Oh yeah, sorry. Long run day."
She stepped away slowly, laughing. "I'm covered in sweat and dog fur anyway."
For a moment we were both quiet, looking at each other and around us at the beach, the dog, the tourists. I needed her to say yes. I wanted to be close to her. I didn’t care about all the reasons it was wrong. "You haven't really answered," I reminded her.
She nodded. "I'm going to say yes," she said, her words slow and careful. "But Max. This thing we're doing ..." she trailed off and shook her head.
"I know."
"On paper," she said, "you know—logically—it's all wrong. I should be able to walk away, to just say no."
"But ..." She was right, but I knew exactly what she meant. Maybe logic couldn’t explain everything? Maybe everything I thought I knew wasn’t quite right.
Her next words were a pained whisper. "I can't." Her shoulders hunched as if she'd admitted some immense weakness, something to apologize for.
I hated that she felt like wanting to be with me was a weakness, a failure.
"Tate." I waited until she looked at me again, her eyes barely visible beneath the sunglasses she wore. "I don't want to do anything that's going to hurt you. If you need me to stop this thing for both of us, I will. Just say the word." I pushed out these words against the resistance I felt and uttered a silent prayer that she wouldn't take me up on it.
She was silent, and my heart pounded inside my chest.
"What time do I need to be ready for the tournament?" she asked.
Relief poured through me, a physical visceral reaction to her words, her acceptance of this undeniable connection between us. Maybe it wasn't logical, maybe it wasn't love or math or even right—but it would be hard to stop at this point. "I'll pick you up at noon."
She stepped up close and kissed me again, softly, and then she turned back to the water, laughing at the huge dog who was rolling in the sand at the water's edge. "Oh Charlie, you're a mess."
Charlie leapt to his feet, doggy grinning at us, and loped over. When he was a couple feet away he paused, braced his feet, and shook mightily, spewing sand and salty water in every direction and covering us both.
"Oh God!" Tate cried, backing a few steps away.
I laughed and jumped back too late. "I needed a shower anyway."
"Charlie, you're impossible."
Charlie didn't seem to mind this declaration. He closed the distance between him and Tate and rubbed himself against her leg as she picked up his leash. "I'll see you soon, Max."
I watched as the big dog and the woman I couldn't seem to stop thinking about jogged off down the beach.
For a few minutes longer I stood there, staring after them, my insides at war. Tate was right—there was no logic here and a lot of reasons we should be cutting things off right now.
Still, I couldn't wait to see her again. A couple hours felt like an eternity.
I had never felt this way before—except once, something close to it with Bendy Samantha—but it hadn’t been quite the same. I winced, thinking about that and how it had gone wrong. There was every chance this would go just as badly, so why couldn't I seem to pull back?
Chapter 136
The Tale of Mr. Peps, the Humpy Poodle
Tatum
When Max had appeared on the beach, it was as if my desires had materialized there in front of me, like the power of my wanting to see him summoned him before me. And when we'd kissed again, with the surf beating just beyond and the cool morning air blowing around us, it was hard to remember all the reasons this wasn't right.
I'd been thinking about what my mother had said, and also thinking about what I knew of women who'd gotten involved with clients, and I still hadn't come to a solid decision about what to do. But every second I spent with Max made it that much harder to pull back. And when he invited me to the tournament, my agreement had fallen from my lips long before my brain had even engaged.
"What are you planning for today?" Mom asked as I emerged from the bathroom after blow-drying my hair. I was probably just going to put it up again and would most likely be wearing a hat if we were going to be out in the sun all day, but the thought of leaving it sweaty just didn't work if I was going to be with Max.
"I'm actually going to go with Max to a charity tournament for the women's soccer team up in Oceanside," I said.
Mom's face fell a bit. "Oh, okay."
I was surprised to see Mom looking disappointed. I figured she’d have plans with Peter or Raaaaj. "Did you want to come?"
She shook her head. "No, I thought maybe we could do some shopping or something."
"We can. I'll just text Max and tell him." I was surprised at the way disappointment made me feel suddenly heavy and slow.
"No, no, don't do that," Mom said. "Charlie and I will find something to do."
"You sure Mom?"
"Of course," she said, moving off into the kitchen. "You have fun with Max," she called back to me.
I considered cancelling, but when I heard her on the phone—with Peter, I
thought—I changed my mind.
Max and I were in his car fifteen minutes later, headed up north.
"Cat wanted to come too," he told me. "Do you mind if we pick her up?"
"Your sister?" I asked. A tiny part of me was sad to have to share Max, but then I realized he'd been planning to go the tournament before he asked me to come along. He had probably already had plans with his sister. And meeting her could offer an interesting perspective on Max. "Sure. I'd love to meet her. I take it you guys are close?"
"She's nosey and pushy," he said, the smile never leaving his face. "And probably my best friend."
"That's nice," I said as we left the freeway to pick up Cat. I wondered how much Cat knew about Max and me, whether she was going to be judging me, or if she might be a potential friend. "I wish I had siblings. I've always been envious of that kind of relationship."
"It is kind of nice," he agreed. "But then there's the other side—you get someone in your business all the time." I wondered if Cat knew about the torn curtains at Max’s house.
We pulled up in front of a small tidy house, and before Max could stop the engine, a tall pretty woman with a dark bob emerged, smiling. She slid into the back seat and then leaned forward. "You must be Tatum," she said, and her smile told me that she definitely knew there was more between Max and me than business.
"Nice to meet you," I told her as a flush of embarrassment crept up my neck.
"You too," she said. "How are you liking San Diego so far? You're here from the Bay area, right?"
"Yes, Palo Alto," I said. "I love it here. My mom came with me—"
"And she brought a bear," Max threw in.
"Yes, my mom and a bear named Charlie."
Mr. Match: The Boxed Set Page 74
