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After the other night, she’s not someone I can tango with any longer. I shove my hands in my pockets and lower my gaze to the steps beneath my feet as I travel from the stoop down to the sidewalk. I don’t bother with niceties. We’re long past that. I head in the direction of the shop I’ve been sent, putting my thoughts on the errand ahead instead of on the woman behind me.

“Harrison?”

I stop one brownstone down, debating if I should even try. I received her message loud and clear when she left me the other night.

Guilt tweaks in my bones. My mom raised me to have better manners. My dad told me to confront life head-on.Life. Tatum.Kind of the same thing right now.

“Please?” she adds. When I turn around, my eyes meet hers, and that plea is still wrangling her expression. “Can we talk?”

“About?” I ask, allowing my gaze to dip down. Dressed in a strapless, fitted black top and a full skirt that hits just at her calves to match, she looks so fucking gorgeous that it pisses me off for some reason.

She comes closer with a box in her hands and a small red bag dangling from her elbow. Her hair is pulled back in a sparkling clip on one side and falls in soft waves on the other side of her face. Her bold red lips don’t compete with the faintest of pink on her cheeks that could be mistaken for her blushing instead of makeup. But it’s her eyes.

Always those eyes that hide a million secrets locked inside. She’s hard to look away from, but I force myself to the trees lining the streets until she says, “The other night . . .”

On the end of an exasperated sigh, I say, “I don’t need to relive?—”

“I know, and I’ll respect your wishes and won’t go over the details, but I need you to know that I came back.”

“You came back where? When?”

“When I left in the car, I had the driver stop the next block down. I came back for you, Harrison, but you were gone.”

Pulling my hands from my pockets, I work through her words in my mind as my body straightens. I’m lost on the change of heart, or is it a revelation? “Why?”

“Because I wanted you to know that I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

I mentally scold myself for sounding so dumb. I’m not sure what it is about Tatum Devreux that makes me go stupid, but I really need to get that under control.

“I’ve pinned a lot of hurt on you, and the fact is, I need to take responsibility, too. I could have called you, Harrison. I should have.” As I stand in my victory for winning the verbal battle, her shoulders sag in defeat. I take the box from her because it’s starting to look heavy, thinking that might be weighing her down.

There’s no change in her body or her stance. “Thank you,” she whispers. I know what she means. It’s for the box. But she adds, “I wish I would have called you.”

Talk about a victory. I’m tempted to do a lap to celebrate, but not when it comes at the expense of her happiness. I hate that we keep getting locked in this weird purgatory state. “You mean that?”

She smiles, and I thought I knew what victorious felt like until then. This is a gold medal win, selling my first house celebration, losing my virginity . . . okay, we won’t go that far, but it feels pretty damn good to see her smile because of me.For me.

Nodding, she says, “We said we would start over, but this time, I really mean it. If you’ll give me another chance.”

“You don’t even have to ask. I’m not one to hold grudges.”

“I’m the worst about grudges, but maybe that’s something I need to improve as well.” She looks back at the front door and then to me again, and asks, “The party hasn’t started, and you’re already leaving?”

“Flowers. Natalie wanted more, so I told her I’d go to the florist around the corner to get them.” Checking my watch, I say, “I should get going. They’re closing soon.”

“I can go with you?” The question isn’t missed in the offer. “I just need to drop off the cake.”

“It’s cake?”

“The bakery was in a fender bender on the way over, and it messed up the cake. I offered to find another, and there’s this great bakery by my apartment.”

“That was nice of you. Saved the day.”

Her cheeks pinken, and she says, “I forgot my cape.”

“If you’re still interested?—”