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“I kind of thought I was romantic before.”
“You were. You are.” She leans forward, grabbing hold of my forearm, and says, “I want us to be together because we want to, not because we feel we have to. I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future. I don’t know how this works at all. I just know I want a life full of love, not the sadness I’ve felt in the past few years.”
“I want that for you, too. I want you to feel the freedom you did when we first met.”
“I was living back then without a care in the world. Or at least the cares that I had overcome.” Flopping back, she throws her arms above her head to rest on the arm of the couch. It’s hard to find the humor in her laughter, though, and that sadness she speaks of is the thing I’ve had trouble reading. She nailed it. “Poor guy. You didn’t know what you were getting yourself into.”
“What changed over the years?”
“Me. Everything.” Her gaze shifts to the TV, though it’s currently off. “I’m the same person, but I’ve grown and have more responsibilities.”
“Let’s get back to that sadness.” I reach as far as I can to cover the divide between us. I touch under her chin, and ask, “Why are you so sad, pretty girl?”
It’s good she doesn’t rush her response. Her eyes are fixed on mine like she might find the answer. “Meeting twenty-two-year-old vacation Tatum is not the same person you’re meeting at twenty-seven, tomorrow.” She winks. “I’m not going to prematurely age myself.” This time the giggle is soft but genuine. “This is real life, my life, and I’ve come to realize everyone eventually leaves me behind.”
“Behind what? I’m not trying to be a smart-ass, but what are others keeping you from that you can’t find or do yourself?” When she doesn’t say anything, I start getting some of this shit off my chest. “You’re amazing—happy, sad, mad as all fuck, sexy, natural, and dressed up. Every version of you is worth loving. For yourself. You don’t have to wait around for something that might be all you think it’s cracked up to be. You can create it. You can create the life you want to live, Tatum. Don’t let the world get you down. Don’t let others determine your happiness.”
“You sound like a life coach.”
“I’ve been known to motivate . . .” It’s the perfect setup for a wink, but this isn’t about being cocky, patting myself on the back, or foreplay to bide time before dinner. This is about making sure Tatum finds what makes her happy. Not for me and not for the baby even though a kid needs to see that behavior modeled. This is about her.
I continue, “This is about creating the life you need instead of searching for it in others.” She hasn’t really let me into her life to see this, but from what I’ve observed over the years, I think she’s placed that expectation on others like her parents, boyfriends, or Natalie. That’s not saying she’s weak, but that she’s lacked the contentment within herself to know she can take the lead in her own life.
She swings her feet to the floor and sits up. Staring at the food on the coffee table, she says, “Now I feel bad for indulging.”
“I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. I eat In-N-Out as soon as I land in LA.”
“I know what you mean. I just think I probably should have gone into work today.”
“Don’t you have your meeting with Dolores soon?”
Checking my watch, I have a few minutes before I need to leave. “I need to go, change clothes—”
“You should bring some clothes over here since you’re always having to go back to Natalie’s.”
Now I’m the one staring. That’s what I call a turnabout. Warp speed indeed. “Are you sure?” I know how absurd it sounds that I’m asking to keep a few shirts over here when my baby already moved in.
She nods with a smirk. “I’m sure.” Getting up off the couch, she adds, “Lounge time is over. We have money to earn to support this kid. Mama’s gotta go earn some bacon. And you have a new listing to get.” Strutting into the other room, I watch that fine ass as she shakes it for me.
Just before she rounds the corner, she stops and whips around. Spreading her body lengthwise against the corner, she raises a leg and arm to look sexy. Does she not realize she doesn’t have to try with me? She purrs. “Or, if you have a few minutes, I could show you my birthmark.”
“Oh yeah? Where might that be?” I’m already heading straight toward her.
“Nowhere that the sunshine can reach.”
Fuck me, the vixen. I’ll lose a listing before I miss out on discovering a new territory to conquer on her body. Grabbing my hands, she tugs me into the bedroom and has her way with me.
