“Tell you about what?” The accent isn’t returned, and Tatum’s voice is tight, as if he’s frustrated that I have the nerve to ask him about his weird as fuck behavior.
“Tatum, don’t do this. You were acting weird almost from the beginning and that smile after you kissed me in front ofeveryonewasnotthe one you grace me with when you’re giving me affection.”
“I…” He throws his head back looking up at the ceiling of the Porsche. ”I don’t even know what to say.”
“Don’t shut me out. We can talk about whatever is going on. I’m here.” My throat threatens to tighten, and the fear that this is getting to be too much for him sits like a lead ball on my chest.
“I freaked out a little bit about everything. Mav asked how lunch with my family was, I realized how well you fit in and when he suggested that maybe you were meant to be there, I panicked. Mav is right though, I do feel like you’ve been the missing piece.” He sighs, rolling his head to look at me. “But, then I got to thinking how we are going to have a child in less than three months and I don’t know if I can fill my Dad’s shoes. Both in terms of being a parent and being a partner to you. I just got so in my head about the possibility of being a disappointment, especially to you. I’m sorry for making things weird.”
“Can you come a little closer? Kind of hard to maneuver with this bowling ball attached to my stomach.” Tate laughs lightly then leans closer to me so I’m able to place a hand on his cheek, holding his attention. “Do you remember what I said I was grateful for?”
“I do.” His eyes close for a moment, and upon reopening I can see that some guilt and shame swim within. I bring my forehead to his, soaking in his presence and desperately hoping he’s doing the same of mine.
“I meant it, you’re not a disappointment. I think you were meant to be a father. So when I look at you, and I tell you that with every moment, I fall a little harder, never once having felt alone during this pregnancy. Do you believe me?” The admission sits heavy between us.
Tatum's chest heaves with each breath between us and I find myself holding mine until he speaks. “What are you saying?” He asks, still processing.
“You know what I’m saying.”
“Say it.”
“I’m saying, Tatum Reed, that I am in love with you.” I think if he could pull me any closer, I would be in his lap.
“Love.”
The word comes out like a growl but not the bad kind, the kind of sound he makes when I’ve been teasing him with dirty words or naked pictures in bed while he’s working a long day, and he finally gets to come home where I am waiting and ready.
“Yes, I am in love with you.”
“Me too.”
“You too, what?”
“I love you too. I’ve never felt such a maddening attraction to someone before you.” I don’t even have time to respond before his lips are on mine, battling my tongue for dominance. He swallows my soft moan. We stay this way until there’s a knock on the window, turning towards the passenger's side, Dom stands there, one of his stupid grins plastered on his face gesturing for us to roll down the window.
“As much as I love a good show, may I suggest you take whatever this is home? You’re blocking me in,” he elaborates, swirling his fingers at Tate and me in a circle.
“Sorry man. I’m in love.” Tatum says, his cheeks are pink so I know that mine are beet red. Dom stands there with his mouth agape, as Tatum rolls the window up and drives us home. We spend the evening wrapped up in each other, whispering words of affection blending with sounds of pleasure until the early morning hours.
Chapter22
Baby on Board
Darcy || 30 weeks pregnant, January
My feet are so swollen I’m living in my slippers. I feel like a beached whale and I’m supposed to be at the beach house for my baby shower in two hours. I’m about ready to call it quits, giving up on the baby blue maxi dress that I purchased for today—that no longer feels like it fits right—and show up in Tatum’s sweats and one of his no-longer-oversized t-shirts because of how big our child is getting.
There’s a soft knock on the door and I turn to find Tatum leaning against the door frame, white lilies in hand. Wordlessly, I follow his gaze as it bounces between my tired expression, to the blue dress on the floor. He just waits, knowing that I’ll word-vomit any moment. He won’t have to wait long.
“My dress doesn’t fit like I want it to. My back and my feet hurt. My makeup looks awful and I’m so tired. I don’t want to go today.” I whine in his direction, squeezing my eyes shut to ward off the tears I can feel burning behind my lids. A warm body and the scent of the sea and cedarwood envelop me, pulling away the tension from my shoulders.
“Do you want to know what I think?” Tatum asks, speaking into my hair.
“I guess.” My reply comes out muffled by his t-shirt. His chest moves under my head and a light puff of air ripples through my hair as he laughs.
“That you could wear a damn potato sack and still be the most beautiful woman in the room.” He lifts my chin gently so he can hold my gaze, “I think that today is about you, so if you don’t like that dress then don’t wear it. I think that you should let me see you in it first though.”
Tatum lifts the crumpled dress from the ground, gesturing for me to lift my arms above my head. Sliding my arms and head into the appropriate holes he pulls the dress over me and down to the ground before stepping back and taking me in.
