It Started with a Kiss

Her home is no joke. I have no idea how much they paid in this market, but it looks to be worth every penny. Beautiful décor—understated with a neutral palette, preferring to let the natural light and sunshine flood the space. The enormous windows to the back allow nature to collaborate with the indoors.

My favorite part is the art. I can only dream to have this kind of collection one day. We pass what I swear must be an Ian Candor from his last renaissance before he gave it up permanently and became a teacher, finding more joy in the classroom than alone in a studio.

Natalie rushes out from the kitchen with a dish towel in her hand. She’s dressed in black ankle pants and a red blouse, and her leather flats look buttery soft and comfortable. She’s always been fashionable, but I’ve noticed it’s developed in a new direction—high end, but with practicality built in.

Is that what happens with age, new stages in life, marriage, and kids? Her style is still intact, but running after a little one could be dangerous in five-inch Louboutins. The latter used to seem almost foreign, but the idea isn’t so odd anymore. They’re actually kind of interesting when I think about it.

Slow down, Marlow. Take one stage in life and one obstacle at a time.

She throws her arms around me. “It’s so good to see you again, Marlow.”

The warm welcome puts me at ease, and I hug her back. “You, too. Thank you for having me.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Taking my hand, she pulls me with her back into the main living space. “Tatum, Marlow’s here!” she shouts after cracking open the door to the backyard.

If there was ever a living icon of fashion in my eyes, it’s Tatum Devreux. Even after having a baby, she hasn’t changed. Dressed in Yves St. Laurent, the New York Collection, her black and shocking pink suit with matching heels are stunning. I could shop fashion before it hit the runway. Designers even sent clothes for me to wear sometimes. I try not to let jealousy ruin this beautiful day.

I feel underdressed in fitted jeans and a sweater. I mean, sure, I look amazing, but not next to them. Even more impressive is how she’s running around in those heels. “I was under the impression this was a casual get-together.”

“It is. Please don’t worry. I’d rather my guests be comfortable than ready to leave.”

“What the hell?” Jackson says.

Natalie and I turn back to see Jackson stomping across the living room. “Hello?”

Laughing, Natalie goes to hug him. “Hi, little bro, and sorry. Tatum and I were excited to see Marlow. It’s been a while. . .” She turns to me. “You have exquisite fashion sense. I was planning to change but got caught up in the kitchen. Hope you don’t mind if I keep it casual. Nick had to run to the store for me and Harrison—have you met Harrison? Nick’s best friend. He and Tatum got married a few months ago.”

She heads back into the kitchen, rounding the large island. “It was the most stunning black-tie affair. Small and intimate, so beautiful.”

I glance at Jackson. “Didn’t you go to that?”

“Yes. It was nice.” Men. I laugh. You wouldn’t even know he and Natalie were speaking about the same event. He adds, “I went solo, for the record.”

I laugh even harder. “I can’t judge you by your past, but I appreciate the info.”

She finishes off her Crostini and offers us one. “Hungry?”

Jackson’s all over that. Shoving one in his mouth, he moans. As soon as he finishes chewing, he picks up another. “I haven’t eaten since this morning. I’m starving.”

“When he says that,” I start, moving to sit on the barstool on the other side of the island from Natalie. “He’s leaving out the fact that it was a huge omelet with homestyle potatoes and a side of fruit. I’m still stuffed, and I ate half the food he did.”

Natalie is laughing. “He was always a good eater. If I left my plate unattended, the good stuff would be gone from it.” She sets the platter in front of us. “I’m already seeing my son take after his father and uncle. James is a hearty eater for a toddler.” She wipes her hands on a towel. “What can I get you to drink?”

Jackson looks at me. I say, “Whatever you’re having.”

“I’m having a glass of sauvignon blanc.”

“That sounds perfect.” She leans down to grab the bottle from a wine fridge tucked inside the island.

“Jackson?” she asks.

“Beer. I can get it.” He moves around and pulls a bottle of lager from the fridge. He sits next to me again and rubs my knee. “Want to meet my nephew?”

Natalie says, “Make yourselves at home.”

The back door opens, and Tatum comes in with a little girl and a boy bundled like snowmen in thick parka onesies. She says, “It’s too cold to stay outside any longer.”