“One house that holds a lot of history for us. She saw it as a fallen kingdom she wanted to rebuild. I saw it as a tie to my family I wanted to sever.”
“Sounds to me like she’s throwing a tantrum because she didn’t get what she wanted.” He sinks back into the couch and crosses his leg over his other knee.
I blow out a breath. “She isn’t. She’s hurt that I never gave her the chance. And honestly…I think she might be right. For a while, I started to wonder if the only reason she ran to me after she left Archer was because he wouldn’t give her what she wanted. She turned to me thinking I would. But then I didn’t.”
“This isn’t a very convincing argument that she’s not throwing a tantrum,” he points out. “You got any coffee, by the way? It was a late night, and my head’s pounding.”
“Yeah.” I get up and walk over toward the coffee pot, and I pour him a cup as I talk. “We were a little busy planning our own wedding, making a playoff run, and working on Devon and Lindsay’s wedding. Her phone’s been blowing up with new clients, and she’s been overwhelmed, so it just didn’t come up again until it was too late. Her needing space is less about a tantrum and more about her setting a boundary that she’s not going to stay with someone who doesn’t fully believe in her and support her vision for the future of her brand.” I hand him the coffee mug.
“Thanks. Do you?”
“Do I what?” I ask.
“Believe in her. Support her vision.”
“Of course I do,” I say, my voice full of passion. “I think she’s fucking brilliant and will succeed at anything she puts her mind to.”
“Yeah, you’re definitely a man in love.” He presses his lips together and sighs. “So what are you going to do?”
I shrug. “WhatcanI do?”
“You said you’ll get the money back when the sale goes through. Are you saying it hasn’t actually sold yet?” he asks quietly.
It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve had the thought, but I suppose itisthe first time someone has voiced that thought aloud.
“No. The sale isn’t final,” I admit.
He raises his brows. “Then I think you know what you need to do.”
CHAPTER 47: Tatum Barker
Trash Pile
I could probably stop paying for this office space since I’m never here, but I haven’t. If I stopped paying, I’d have to clean it out, and I haven’t exactly been around to do that.
“Tater!” Kenzie says when she walks by the office. I’m on the floor, surrounded by paperwork in the usual chaos that’s my style.
“Morning,” I say absently. I pick up a folder and read the name on the tab. Do I really need to keep a file for clients who were married three years ago and have already gotten a divorce?
Their centerpieces were lovely, though. I set the folder in thekeeppile.
“When did you get in?” she asks. She walks in and leans on the doorframe. She knew I was here since I texted her I was coming and would be picking up my car from where it’s been parked on the street across from her house.
“Last night.”
“Where are you staying?”
“I booked a room at the Venetian for a few nights.” I pick up another folder and set it in thetrashpile as I think about that term. Trash pile. Sort of like my life at the moment.
“Our casita is still open. Come stay with me,” she says.
“I’m okay.” I set another folder inkeep. Another one intrash. I take a sip of my coffee and set it back on the floor beside me, and I glance up at the doorway. Kenzie’s hand is on her hip, and she’s staring at me.
“You aresoclearlynotokay. What’s going on, Tate?”
I blow out a breath, and then it all comes tumbling out.
All of it.
