So, while I throw myself into work once again, I think I’ll add a little more to my already very full plate by finding the right venue in my old hometown. It’s Chicago. My favorite city in the world. That city deserves a luxe venue that’s partof the Tatum Signature Collection even if it isn’t the Bradley Mansion.
And I intend to find it.
CHAPTER 45: Tatum Barker
Sold My Dream
“Where are you going?” Ford asks as I wheel my suitcase by him toward the front door after the wedding.
He rises to a stand from the couch where he’s watching basketball highlights.
“Chicago.”
“Tonight? We just got home. You’re exhausted. Take a night, get some rest, and we’ll regroup in the morning.”
I shake my head. “I’m going tonight.”
“Okay. I’ll go with you.”
I shake my head again. “I’m going alone.”
“Oh. Can I ask why?”
I blow out a breath. “I’m angry, and when I’m angry, I just need some space. In the past, I’ve run to you, as you well know, but I can’t do that this time. I just need a few days.”
“Is this…are you…um—arewe—” he stutters.
I hold up a hand. “I just need a break, Ford. I need to figure some things out for myself.”
“What things?” he asks quietly.
“Us. If I’m always going to wonder if you’re keeping things from me. And not just us, but me. The direction I want to take my business.”
“I can help you figure those things out,” he offers.
I shake my head. “I need to do this alone. We jumped into this so quickly, and I just need some time. Okay?”
He presses his lips together as he reluctantly nods. “For what it’s worth, I’m willing to fight.”
My gaze turns down to the floor. “I will keep that in mind.”
He closes the gap between us and slides his arm around my waist. He hauls me to him, and he holds me. He’s trembling a little, and his voice is filled with emotion as he says, “We’re better off together, Tate. Please give me another chance to prove to you how much I believe in you.”
“I’ll take it all into consideration,” I say briskly, not trusting myself to sink into his arms the way I really want to.
His lips move to my neck, and I close my eyes for a beat as I fight the urge to give in.
I force myself to back away. “I need to go. I have a flight to catch.”
“Of course,” he says quietly, and he lets me go until he doesn’t. “Wait,” he says. “Don’t go. Let’s work this out. Fight with me, Tate.” He’s begging.
I twist my lips. “You believe that you’re right, and I believe that I am. To you, there’s no emotional connection. To me, there was. You’re too logical to see that. Neither of us is willing to bend on what we believe. If we do, we’re betraying ourselves. So I just need a bit of time away. Okay? I’m hoping this time away might give us both enough perspective to pick up where we left off.”
He sighs as I walk out the front door without another word. Moments later, I slip into the Uber I ordered to take me to the airport.
I check my inbox on my phone on the way. It’s all organized now, and the only things Ihaveto read are some new client inquiries about touring Winston Manor. I reply with calendar invitations a few weeks from now. I’ll be back by then, at least for these meetings, or maybe by then I will have hired someone who can help me out with these sorts of things.
A little before midnight, I check into my hotel. I lie down since it’s been a long day, but I feel restless.
