“That’s not him . . .” Her head wobbles in debate. “It might be him as well, but it’s definitely your hormones. You’re pregnant. All kinds of changes are happening in there. Do you know how many fights I’ve picked with Nick in the past few months over the stupidest stuff?”
“A lot,” Nick says from the couch. His eyes are fixed on the TV, but clearly, his ears are eavesdropping.
She rolls her eyes, but then says, “You guys moved so fast, and now you’re having a baby. So many emotions are involved in this that I don’t want you to act rash. Granted, you left, and that’s rash.”
Nick nods. “Rash.”
I’m tempted to flip both of them off out of aggravation, but again, that would be rash, thus proving their point.
It’s Saturday, so they’re both home, but I could probably do without the peanut gallery in the living room, especially since we’re talking about his best friend. But him being here isn’t all for naught. He gets up during a commercial break and stands in front of the open fridge staring in. “Harrison is broken-hearted.”
“Did he say that?” I ask, moving to the edge of the barstool.
He looks back at me. “No, guys don’t talk like that, but I can tell. Kind of obvious anyway since he came back to an empty bed.”
“He came back?” I sound so stupid. Of course, he came back, but it begs the question: Why’d he leave me?
“He lives there, Tate.”
Natalie is staring at me. She can read my mind too well, so I avoid looking at her altogether. And then start whistling since I’m already in the hot seat.
That’s not going to stop her. “Tatum Eloise Devreux.”
She’s full-name calling me out? Crap. I’m in trouble now.
I look at her. “Yes,” I gulp through the response.
“He went surfing to clear his head. Nick and Andrew do that too.”
“She’s speaking facts,” Nick slips in and then pops a grape in his mouth.
Natalie comes around the island and stands right beside me. Swiveling me on the stool to face her, she levels her eyes to mine and lowers her voice. “Did you actually think Harrison wasn’t coming back?”
“He lives there. I knew he was coming back at some point. I just . . . he knows my triggers, and leaving is the biggie for me. Why would he leave when the night before he said we’ll talk in the morning? What kind of message does that send for me to wake up alone?”
“I don’t know,” she says, her body out of energy. She pulls the stool next to me out to sit down. “I don’t know, but you guys can’t seem to catch a break. Maybe—”
“Don’t say it, Nat,” Nick says, this time wholeheartedly involved in the conversation as he returns to the couch.
“Say what?” I ask.
Natalie hits Nick with a glare before turning back to me. “Destiny. It will find a way if you’re meant to be.”
“And if we’re not?”
“Then it will lead you to who you’re supposed to be with.”
“Destiny sounds like a drunk girl you have to buy cab fare for to get her to go home at the end of the night.”
“That’s very . . . specific, but I can see it,” she replies, and then hops off the stool again. “I’ll be back. Time to pee for the three hundredth time today.”
“I’ve not gotten to that stage. Thank goodness.”
Nick looks toward the front of the house where his wife just disappeared. Then, seemingly pleased the coast is clear, he turns around on the couch. “We should talk, Tatum.”
“I’m right here.”
“Look, I say this because I care about you.”
I almost feel as if I’ve disappointed him. “That’s not a good start.”
“I’m going to be very direct because Natalie likes to make every short story long. I love that woman and everything about her, but we don’t have that kind of time.”
Now he has me on the lookout for her. “Okay, shoot.”
“You and Nat are a team, a force to be reckoned with, a dynamic duo, the great Nat and Tat. Like it literally is a thing. But she worries about you. She feels guilty, like she’s letting you down by moving on with her life. Not that she ever forgets you. She doesn’t at all, but she cares enough to want the best for you, to want you to find the happiness that I know she’s found.”
I could be defensive or keep my guard up with him, but nothing Nick is saying is new. Natalie and I are a dynamic duo, but Batman and Robin had other love interests, even if Catwoman was a poor choice. But that’s a whole other issue I wrote a paper about in college. I got an A+. Anywho, I say, “She has. She’s so lucky to have you.”
“Is it luck? Maybe. Though you know Cookie doesn’t believe in luck.”