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Marlow

“I’m nervous.”

Jackson pulls me to a stop on the sidewalk outside Nick and Natalie’s brownstone. With our arms stretched between us, he asks, “Why are you nervous?”

I step closer, finding it hard to keep any distance from him. “Because I’m friendly with your sister, but that was when she thought I wasn’t dating her brother.”

“I’m confused. Why would Natalie not like us dating?”

I watch a car drive by, unable to express why my stomach is twisted. When I look at him, into his caring eyes, and the way he holds my hand, I know I’m not escaping this conversation about my fears.

He pulls me until we’re wrapped around each other. Looking down at me, he says, “It doesn’t matter if Natalie approves. None of their opinions matter when it comes to us being together. But if it makes you feel better, I prepped her ahead of time and sent a text.”

“Jackson?” I don’t even know what I’m asking. I don’t know if I feel prepared to face the family this soon after we made a commitment.

His hands are under my coat, holding my waist. There’s not an ounce of disappointment, only sincerity in his eyes.

“If you want to go, we’ll go. Seriously, Marlow.

I don’t want you to feel pressured like you’re having to perform or be someone else.

That’s not what this should be. We can always come another time when you’re ready.

” He smiles, and in the shadow of a family gathering, there’s such a boyish charm, something lighter, more playful today than usual.

I can’t be responsible for taking that away from him.

Leaning toward the steps, knowing he’d never let me fall, I tug him with me. “Come on. Let’s go visit the family.”

He knocks on the door but then enters the code and opens it.

I step inside the large home. I’ve been here a few times over the years.

Natalie St. James, now Christiansen, is an amazing woman.

Independent but lives for her family. A smart businesswoman who created her own empire when she decided she didn’t want to go into the family’s brokerage business.

She's a sensational party planner involved in so many great causes, from supporting the arts to helping children in need.

She’s perfect and one of the few people who makes me feel a bit of a failure in life. That’s not her issue. It’s mine. On the upside, I love when I get to see her because she’s always inspiring.

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.”

Coming around to greet her little man, Natalie kneels in front of James and kisses his rosy cheeks. “Did you have fun?”

He shakes his head and then spots Jackson, his eyes lighting up and a big smile. “Jack. Jack.” Jackson squats down and holds his arms out.

My ovaries are currently intact, but they’re on the verge of bursting watching this big hunk of a man embrace this kid.

Jackson swings him into the air and then catches him, settling him on his hip. Eyeing me, he says, “This is my friend Marlow.”

“Hello?” I say, holding out my hand.

He grabs my index finger. “Hi,” he replies shyly and then tucks himself against Jackson’s neck. I smile because it’s the sweetest sight. And because I get that same feeling of comfort from Jack Jack, too, kid.

Tatum comes around, and we finally hug. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You, too.”

Natalie says, “I could have had dinner catered, but I wanted to cook. I actually love cooking but don’t get to do it as much as I like lately with our family’s busy schedule.”

“What can I do to help?” Jackson asks.

“I’d love it if you could take James upstairs and get him out of that outfit. I have a sitter coming over to keep the kids while we have dinner.”

“I’m on it.” Jackson starts toward the stairs.

“How can I help?” I ask, knowing I don’t know anything about cooking or kitchen stuff in general. I shift, anxiety kicking up a storm watching Jackson leave and wondering if I’m about to make a fool of myself in front of his sister and Tatum.

“Marlow?” Jackson stops two steps up. “Do you want to come with Jimmy and me?”

Tatum laughs, though Natalie doesn’t look that amused. Handing Natalie her glass of wine, she says, “It’s just a nickname.” Tatum’s gaze lands on me, and with a smile still on her face, she says, “You go ahead. I’ll help Natalie with dinner.”

Phew! Close call. “Okay.” I hurry to the stairs and follow Jackson up to the top floor, where there’s not only a nursery but also a playroom and office.

We leave our shoes on the wood floor of the hallway before entering the carpeted room. It takes a minute to peel James out of the suit, but when we do, Jackson’s face scrunches. “He needs a change.”

I head for the door. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Marlow?”

When I turn back, he chuckles. “You can stay. Do you want to learn how to change a diaper?”

“Nope. I don’t.”

“Won’t you need to know this one day?” The devious glint in his eye would give him away if I weren’t already onto him.

“I see what you’re doing, St. James.”

This kid is really great, perfectly entertained with a stuffed rabbit while Jackson hoists him onto a small blanket on the lower half of a full-sized bed.

Jackson asks, “What am I doing?”

“If you want to know if I want kids, just ask.”

“Do you want kids?”