Crazy in Love

Maddie’s arm comes down, and she moves closer, picking up a bottle of my cologne and plucking the cap off. “Of course not, but we quickly realized who the other person was.”

“How?”

“The front desk clerk called me Ms. Decker. That got Tatum’s attention.”

“I bet it did,” I mumble, walking to the open patio door that leads to a private balcony, the same balcony where I made love to her under the stars and . . . made love, created love, fell in love. That’s what we did that night. God, I miss her. I miss her smile, her laughter, her voice, her touch . . . I just miss her. And I hate that I have no idea when that will end. If she’ll ever trust me enough to love her with everything I have.

“She doesn’t seem upset, Harry.”

“She’s not upset? Are you sure you met the right Tatum? My Tatum? My Tatum is always upset. It’s a part of her charm.”

“Sounds like it.” My sister’s expression softens. “And can you call her your Tatum a few more times. I don’t think the people in the back heard you.”

“Funny.”

“Most call me delightful. As for your Tatum, from what you’ve told me over the years and from just meeting her, I can unequivocally give you my endorsement. She’s a perfect match for you.”

After my eyebrows shoot up, I have to get better about controlling my reactions, especially if Tatum is here to tell me this break is better than our relationship. “Geez, thanks, sis. But tell me, you got that from just meeting her for thirty seconds in the lobby of the hotel?”

“No, we were there a few minutes, shared stories, and became fast friends before we figured out who the other person was.” Fast friends. This would have been great news if I were still with her, but now my sister gets time with the woman I would give anything to have. She smells the cologne and then replaces the cap. “That smells good. Definitely wear that for her.”

“I’m not wearing anything for her. We’re not together. Currently.”

“Currently leaves room for hope and love.” Giddy, she comes closer and starts fidgeting with my shirt. My sister has experienced the worst in life when it comes to love, but she still remains a romantic. I hope she gets the fairy tale ending she deserves. She says, “Don’t be so stubborn, Harrison. That’s what got you into this mess.”

Removing her hands, I hold them between mine. I love my sister, but this isn’t something she can fix. No matter how good her intentions. “No, what got me into this is . . .” I slow my words and hold my tongue. Releasing her hands, I think about what I really want to say, what I want to shout from the rooftops. Tatum’s having my baby, and I still haven’t told a soul. Well, other than the surprise party crowd. But my family doesn’t know anything. Nick and Andrew know, and they’re not telling anyone.

I need to respect Tatum and her wishes, so until she’s ready to tell the world, I need to remain silent on the matter.

Not the matter, the baby. Our baby.

A pinch in my chest has me wondering if I’m having a stroke or a heart attack or just can’t seem to find my rhythm these days. I rub my hand over to ease the pain. It doesn’t work. Never does. It showed up the day Tatum left and stayed. To say I have suspicions that the two events are related is an understatement.

I turn my back to the balcony and the memories we made out there. Not that I can escape them in this room, which is the same one where we spent the night together. It was hers, but being back here, I can’t help but feel the ghosts of us together.

Madison has me wanting to leap from the room to rush down and find Tatum to tell her how I feel—the good and bad—laying it all out on the table. I’m not sure if we’re a good match, as my sister said, or we mold easily and overstayed our welcome. What I do know is that I’ve missed her so fucking much this past month that it’s not natural to feel this kind of constant ache in my soul.

But this must be handled very carefully. I can’t miss any steps when it comes to Tatum. We did that the first time, and look how that ended.

“It doesn’t matter, Maddie. Sounds like you got fairly deep into conversation about our relationship, though. Why would she tell you all of this? Not only are you a stranger but you’re my sister,” I say.

“Maybe because I am your sister. Maybe she knows I’ll tell you everything. Maybe, Harrison, you use that heart of yours and let it guide you for a while instead of trying to find a reason for everything. Love is an emotion. It doesn’t always make sense.” Checking her watch, she adds, “We need to leave. Are you ready?”