Whatever You Do

by Stephanie Smith

  I sit by the trunk for God knows how long and berate myself over and over, running every moment we’ve spent together through my mind and dissecting all of it.

  Feeling restless, I decide to take a walk through the parklands and try to clear my head. The park has emptied a great deal since I got here and I assume it’s because most people have returned to work from their lunch breaks.

  I walk around the park twice and only notice how long I’ve been walking as my legs have begun to burn. I must have been walking for at least two hours. All my thoughts of Tate have kept me from focusing on the real world.

  Sitting down on the closest bench, I take a quick break, massaging my calves before I go. I may as well walk home, since I’ve come this far. Standing from the bench, I stretch my legs and body a couple of times before exiting the park.

  Seeing my building in the distance, my shoulders sag in relief. No matter how shit my apartment is, there’s no place like home, and I need it more than anything right now. I want a hot shower and to fall into bed, forgetting today and this weekend ever happened.

  Stepping up to my door, I rifle through my purse looking for my keys, wanting to get inside as quickly as possible. As I look up, I stop dead in my tracks. I should’ve expected it; should’ve prepared myself for it.

  There in the corridor, sitting with a large brown box in his lap and leaning up against my door, is Tate.

  God, she is a sight for sore eyes. It’s only been a few hours since I’ve seen her but it feels like days, weeks even.

  I’ve been sitting at her door for hours. When she wasn’t answering my calls or text messages, I had no other ideas except to come here. I don’t know any of her favourite places; don’t know who her friends are. I want to know these things. We learned so much about each other over the weekend but it wasn’t enough and I didn’t want it to end.

  I want her. I want her for a lifetime. I told her I was falling for her. I should’ve been more forward. I should’ve told her I loved her. That I was in love with her.

  “Harper.” I release a deep breath and my shoulders relax. She’s here.

  “What are you doing here, Tate?” She steps beside me, opening her door.

  Laying my box to the side, I jump up off the floor, making sure she can’t shut the door on me. “I came to talk to you. To explain. It wasn’t what you think.”

  “Tate, trust me, I have heard it all before. You will not be able to give me any excuse or reason which hasn’t been used before.”

  “Harper, please. I’m begging you. Let me explain. If you don’t like what you hear, you can tell me to go, but please . . . just hear me out.”

  “Tate, I can’t . . . I can’t do this right now.”

  “Please.” My voice is strained and my jaw is tight. I’m begging and I can see her hard exterior begin to fall, her eyes softening with my pleas. I hate how I do that to her and love how I do that to her all at the same time. Love that I have that effect on her. She sure has that effect on me.

  “You’ve got five minutes. Don’t insult me with your excuses; at least try to be creative.” She moves aside to let me in, and even though her voice is still distant and cold, I have hope that she’s even letting me inside.

  I don’t waste a second before I’m explaining. “The woman I was with today is my ex, Stacey. I know you’ve seen her calling me, and I met with her today to tell it’s done, to stop contacting me, asking me for things, everything.”

  “I don’t understand. Is she your ex or not? For how long?”

  “We haven’t been together for three years.”

  “So, what, you still see her? Do you sleep with her? Is she like a fuck buddy?”

  “God no, Harper I haven’t slept with her since we broke up.”

  “Tate, you need to elaborate more because so far this is no explanation.”

  “Can we sit?” I ask carefully, not wanting to scare her off.

  She nods almost imperceptibly and makes her way to the couch. I sit on the opposite end and shove my hands in my lap to stop me from reaching out to touch her.

  “Stacey and I had been together since high school. We were inseparable and everyone thought we would get married.” Harper looks away and unease forms on her face. It gives me hope she still cares; she’s not completely unfazed by the information.

  “When my grandfather died and I decided to take over the café, she wasn’t that happy about it. She wanted me to sell it and move to try and pursue my music career.” I pause, hoping Harper will give me some reaction to work with, but she stares ahead, not meeting my gaze.

  “We went through a rough patch; things were strained and we were distant. I came home early from a bachelor weekend away and found her in our house with another guy.”

  Harper’s eyes shoot to mine, and there is recognition in her eyes. The realisation we have been through the same thing. Had the same betrayal bestowed upon us.

  I nod and continue. “I moved out and into my apartment above the shop. I let her keep the house I had bought for us, the car, the dogs, everything.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

  “Don’t be. I was devastated at the time but it wasn’t long until the anger set in, and then I was just thankful for my own place, my bike, and to be rid of her.” Harper nods in understanding.

  “Once word spread and she wasn’t shone in a nice light, she decided she needed a justification for her actions. So she started telling people I had anger problems, had been emotionally abusing her, and had even hit her a few times.”

  “Oh, my God,” Harper breathes.

  “I didn’t, I would never . . .”

  “I know,” she says, scooting closer to me on the couch and placing her hand over mine on my thigh. She squeezes it tight and nods for me to continue. My chest expands at the thought there might be hope here.

  “After months and months of fighting, police, and lawyers, she showed up on my doorstep, a total mess. Apparently, her boyfriend had spent any money she’d had, buried her in gambling debts, and taken off. I couldn’t abandon her. Even after everything she had put me through. We had been together since high school.”

  “I can understand that.” Harper squeezes my hand again, caressing it with her thumb.

  “I sold the house to pay for her debt and bills, helping her get back on her feet, and I’ve been a constant back-up since.”

  “Wow,” she breathes. “So, how did she take it? You not wanting anything to do with her anymore.”

  “She lost it like I knew she would. It’s probably why I gave her whatever she wanted for so long. I couldn’t be bothered to deal with her and her drama.” Harper shakes her head but doesn’t say anything. “I saw your face,” I say. She narrows her eyes at me. “When she would call, I saw your face. I should’ve told you about her but I couldn’t have her come between us.” I run my hand through my hair. “You want to know why I call you Daisy?” She nods. “Because you are a ray of sunshine.”

  “Sunshine?” She questions my meaning.

  “Daisies are a symbol for sunshine and light.” Harper raises her eyes, teasing me. “Daisies were my grandmother’s favourite flowers. Every week for years, she would put a fresh vase of daisies up in the kitchen at the café. I’ve been ordering a fresh lot every week from the florist down the road since we lost her.”

  “That’s lovely,” she whispers.

  “The first time I walked into Argo and your warm brown eyes were peering over that huge desk . . .” I chuckle and she smiles, embarrassed. “I knew it, I saw it. You radiated happiness into that glum place.” She gives me one of her smiles, which make my point. “After this weekend . . . you own me. You have weaved yourself so tightly through me that I can’t see anything else. So the question is, Daisy . . . do you love me or do you love me not?”

  “I love you,” she whispers. The look on her face is as though the words have shocked her as much as they have me. I don’t let her think about it as I crash my mouth into hers, kissing her hard and wi
th everything I feel for her. I love this woman. I know she is it for me. We were made for each other and not just our bodies . . . but our hearts, our souls. She’s my forever.

  “I love you, Harper,” I tell her pulling back from our kiss. “I promise I won’t—”

  She leans forward and places her hands on either side of my face. “You, Tate Washington, are by far the most wonderful and admirable man I’ve ever met. I didn’t know men as good and as kind-hearted as you really existed. I’m sorry for not trusting you.”

  “Harper,” I whisper trailing soft kisses from the corner of her mouth, across her jaw, and down her neck. I nibble and suck on her earlobe, enjoying the sweet moans that leave her lips.

  “Hey,” she breaks the tension. “What was in that box?”

  “Daisy, we were kind of having a moment.”

  “Shut up.” She laughs. “What was it?”

  “I got you something.”

  “What? Like a ‘please let me explain’ gift?”

  “No.” I bite my lip, trying to hide my smile. “Like an ‘I want you to stick around so you’ll be needing this’ gift.”

  “Oh, that sounds exciting.” She bounces up and down on the couch, and I can’t contain my wide grin. When she’s like this I imagine a little dark-haired girl, the pastor’s daughter, getting excited over the smallest things. She is so adorable, and I can’t wait to make her giddy like this more often.

  Struggling with the idea of wanting to tease her for a bit longer and wanting to see the look on her face when I give her the gift, I decide on the latter and hop off the couch and head to the door to grab the box from where I left it.

  Picking it up from outside the door, I carry it back to the couch and sit down next to her. I hand it over quickly. “I hope you like it.”

  “Of course, I will,” she says mindlessly as she’s tearing into the box.

  “Oh, my God,” she whispers as she pulls the custom-painted helmet out of the box.

  “Do you like it?”

  “I love it.” She turns the helmet around in her hands, taking in all the details. The black helmet is shiny with pink accented leaves, morphed daisies and the word Daisy graphitised at the back. It represents Harper perfectly being a little eclectic, a little girly, and a little grunge. It symbolises everything I love about her. “When did you do this?” she whispers.

  “Last week, after our date at the bar.”

  “It wasn’t a date.” She turns to me with stern eyes, although I can see the humour lacing them.

  “It was a date to me. It was also when I realised I wanted to keep you around.”

  She smiles warmly at me. “I can’t believe that a man like you would love me.”

  “Well, fucking believe it, Daisy.” I lunge at her, grabbing the helmet from her hands and putting it on the floor as I push her back onto the couch. I lie over her and take her mouth with mine. She has perfect full lips. Lips I could see myself kissing every day until God decides to take me.

  “Thank you.” She gets the words out between fast breaths. “I love it.”

  “Well, shall we take it for a test spin?”

  “Oh, yes please.” She squeals like a little girl in a doll shop. Giving her one more hard kiss, I roll off her, stand, and offer her my hand. Pulling her up, I then bend down to pick up the helmet off the floor. Setting it on her head, I do up the strap under her chin. The goofy smile never leaves her face.

  “Come on.” I chuckle, grabbing her hand and pulling her from the apartment.

  I’m sunk. I know I will never love another woman the way I love Harper Lindell.

  I was walking on a cloud. Riding through town, wrapped around this gorgeous man, wearing my new awesome helmet. I can’t believe he did that for me. Even then, he was so sure about us and where we were headed.

  A knot balls in my tummy as I think about Tate having to watch me date all those losers. He is nothing like the man I thought he was, and I’m so glad he persisted and saw through my stubborn and stupid ways.

  Seeing him sitting at my door, begging me like that—he was devastated. I could see it in his eyes; he cared just as much as I did, was torn up just as much as I was. I’ve never felt such betrayal before. Even so, he seemed to know as well as I did that I’d be incapable of turning him away.

  The story about his ex was not at all what I’d expected. It’s a perfect example of why he stands above so many other men. Not many would go through that and then take care of the bitch. Yes, bitch. Just thinking about it makes me want to track her down and scratch her eyes out.

  Upon re-entering the city limits, Tate heads to my apartment. I’m a little disappointed he isn’t taking me to stay at his place, but I haven’t got the courage to suggest it. Maybe I’ll ask him to stay here with me.

  We hop off the bike and he undoes and removes my helmet, as has become our usual routine. He goes to hang it on the handlebars, but I snatch it out of his grasp.

  “No way. Were not leaving that out here. I don’t want it stolen.” Holding the helmet tight against my chest, I make my way to my apartment, Tate chuckling as he follows behind me.

  Stepping into my apartment, I’m surprised as he follows and locks the door behind him.

  “So . . .” I’m not really sure how to ask him to stay. “Want a drink?”

  “Nah, I’m beat. It’s been a long day. Just want to get home.”

  Oh, okay. “Well, did you want to stay here?”

  “Uh, no thanks.” He laughs, and I frown at him. Trust me, I know this place isn’t great, but it’s not infested with cockroaches or anything.

  He laughs, walking towards me, and my frown deepens. “Oh babe, I didn’t mean it like that.” He wraps his arms around my waist but I lean away from him. “Harper, I just hate thinking of you here. You deserve better, and I worry about your safety.”

  “Why did you bother coming in then?”

  “I was hoping you would pack a bag and come home with me for the night. If you pack your work stuff, I won’t have to wake you early, and you won’t have to worry about coming back here in the morning.”

  “Oh . . . Oh, right. Yes, that sounds okay.” I smile sheepishly, trying not to show my excitement at the fact he does want me there.

  “Actually, I was kind of hoping you’d pack all your shit up and bring it home permanently.”

  I don’t miss how he calls it home again, and it sends a shiver of excitement running through me. He wants me as a permanent fixture in his life. Unfortunately, my head won’t let me enjoy that idea for too long.

  “I think it’s a bit early for that.”

  “Says who? I hate thinking of you living here. This place is a shack.” He glances around, concern etched onto his face. He’s not wrong—shack is probably too nice a word for it—but I have no choice. It’s all I can afford on a receptionist’s wage if I want to live in the city.

  “Is that why you want me to move in?”

  “It’s one reason.” His hold on me tightens. “The main reason is that I want to hold you every night as I drift off to sleep and see you every morning when I wake up.”

  He’s lucky he is holding me as my knees weaken. Hearing those words come out of his lips sets me on fire. “Well, we only have the bike tonight anyway, so we don’t have to worry about it right now.”

  “Fine. We can discuss it tomorrow.” He kisses me on the tip of my nose and I shake my head, smiling at him.

  “I’m just gonna go grab a few things.” I pull out of his hold and he smacks my ass as I head towards my bedroom. What is it with him and my ass?

  “God, I love that ass.”

  “I’ve noticed,” I yell dryly. I try to act nonchalant, but God, he gets to me. The reactions on the inside are embarrassing, and I don’t think I’d admit it out loud to anyone, even Brooke, how wonderful he makes me feel. How alive I feel when he’s around.

  Deciding to try again with Tate has been the best love-life decision I have made in more than ten years. And I can’t wait to take t
his ride with him.

  Picking up my duffle off the floor where I dropped it this morning, I empty all the dirty clothes onto my bed and pack some clean work clothes, underwear, and repack my toiletries, scanning the room for anything I may have forgotten. When I’m satisfied, I stand in the doorway with my hand over the light switch. Taking a quick glance around, it’s as though I’m saying goodbye. I have a feeling I won’t be staying in this room again.

  A slow smile graces my face at the thought, and I switch the light off.

  Once we arrive at Tate’s apartment, we settle in and prepare for sleep. He is ready before me, and I find him lying in bed, his arms folded underneath his head. I stop in the doorway and watch him. He is looking up to the ceiling with a small smile on his lips.

  When he finally notes my presence, his eyes meet mine and a huge smile lights his face. I smile back as I make my way over to the other side of the bed, crawling over and laying on top of him. He wraps his arms around me and I nuzzle my face into his chest.

  Releasing a deep sigh, I close my eyes. I can’t believe where we’ve come in only a couple of weeks. I squirm against him, willing him to hold me tighter. I don’t ever want to leave these arms. It doesn’t feel real that only earlier today I thought we were done before we had even started.

  “I would never do that to you, Harper.” He sighs, giving me the reassurance he somehow knows I still need. “I love you.”

  Placing a soft kiss on his chest, I look up at him from my underneath my eyelashes. He groans as I continue trailing kisses all over his chest, following the patterns and colours of all his tattoos. I want to stop and take them in but I don’t. I kiss down to his nipple and run my tongue around it. Tate moans and I bite down on it.

  “Oh, fuck,” he curses. Licking and kissing my way over to the other nipple, I repeat my actions. He runs his fingers through my hair, holding my head, and I revel in the power I have.

  Continuing my attention down his tight stomach, I smile as his muscles tense under my touch. Making my way down to his V, I lick along both sides of it. Tate’s dick jumps as I near it. “You were confident,” I say, in gesture to him going to bed naked.