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Nick squeezes my shoulder as he walks through to the other room.

I cover Tatum’s hand, wrapping my fingers around hers, and then slowly nod. “I’m . . . confused.”

“So am I.”

Wanting to reassure her, I force a smile. “Surprise. It’s your birthday party.”

Her expression softens. “You listened to me gripe about that and didn’t say a word. You’re very good at keeping secrets, Mr. Decker.”

“So are you.” I don’t intend it as a jab, and nothing in my tone would say otherwise.

That doesn’t stop the slight cringing I see around her eyes and mouth. “I think we need to talk, and this,” she says, glancing back over her shoulder at the other guests, “this isn’t the place.”

“If you want to stay, we can.”

“I feel like a rain check might be in order. They’ll understand.” She pulls away to leave, but I keep holding her hand. It’s not that I only like the feel of it in mine. I need this connection.I need her.

Turning back, she gives me a smile. “It’s okay, Harrison.”

I’m not sure when the roles we played reversed, but I feel better as if we’re in this together.

I release her hand, but when she walks away, my gut twists, still unsettled.

23

Harrison

How isshe so calm when I’m freaking the fuck out inside?

And I’m the one who had the whiskey. She’s thriving off water alone.

Tatum’s lying in a lukewarm bath covered in suds, and I’m researching getting pregnant while taking birth control pills. Sure, I always knew it wasn’t 100%, but what the fuck? I still trusted it.

As tempting as it is to pour myself a drink, I need to get her fed properly. Natalie sent the entire pot of soup back with us, and it’s just hot enough to serve. I find the bowls and ladle the soup inside. I can’t find a tray to carry it on, so I load up my hands and tuck the crackers under my arm. When I turn around, she’s standing there. Her straight hair hangs over her robe-clad shoulders. A makeup-free face brings attention to her bright eyes that are filled with amusement. She giggles. “Need a hand?”

I must look like an idiot trying to juggle everything. “Maybe more.” I set everything down on the island when she comes into the kitchen.

“You did all of this for me?”

“I can’t take credit for the soup. I’m just the reheater.”

Running her finger along the island, she stops it beside me, and then she slips her arms around me. “But you reheated it for me. I don’t even know where you got the crackers.”

“Whoever does your shopping thought it was a necessary staple. Who does your shopping for you?”

“A company we found through STJ. Two sons wanted to take the burden of grocery shopping off their mom for a year when she was going through chemo. They didn’t live in New York, so they contacted us for help. We found a great startup for just that thing. It was nice to do something that can make a real impact on someone’s life. We didn’t charge them because it allowed us to open a division that focuses fully on helping those in need.”

I’ve not been privy to this side of the business or of Tatum. There’s an excitement in her eyes as she speaks, yet until now, I knew nothing about it. “I haven’t heard about this, not from Nick or Natalie.”

A self-deprecating expression fills in the features of her pretty face. “Feels like we’re bragging so it’s not something we really advertise. It’s through word of mouth. We’re not looking for pats on the back.”

“How does it work?”

“Through the submission process. We have someone in the office who narrows it down to five and then presents them to the company, and everyone has a vote that counts. Sometimes it’s one, sometimes two a month.” She pulls her hair over her shoulder, the silky strands instantly returning to where they came from. “Anyway, I work with that company who grocery shops for people who don’t have time, mobility, or interest.” Raising her hand, she adds, “I fall into the last category. No shocker. They stock the staples, and then you give them your likes, etcetera.”

There are a million businesses who can shop for you, but that this one has the charitable angle definitely makes it more interesting. I’ll have to watch for investment opportunities. That aside, she has me wondering if New Yorkers even have grocery stores like the ones back home. “Have you ever grocery shopped?”

She’s quick to answer. “I’m sure I have. There’s a fruit stand down the street, and the shops for the other things are just past that.”