Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Probably one of the women working at the cleaners slipping me her number. It happens at businesses quite a bit.
I unfold it and read:
Tatum
Her number written just below.
Standing there smiling like a goofball, I add the number to my phone. “She broke her own pact. For me.”
Once Madison and my niece are home, settled, I’ll plan my quest to win Tatum over.
When the dust settles.
The sun hasn’t risen, but I need to hit the water to clear my head before tackling the day. I slip out of bed and find my trunks. I pull them on hopping on one foot and then the other down the hall. I shove a banana in my mouth and grab a bottle of water as I head for the back door.
It takes me a minute to scroll the surf report to figure out the conditions before I decide which board I want to ride. With my board in the back of my old pickup truck, I text a good friend who’s in town for a few days from Hawaii: Sorry I missed yesterday. You out in the water this morning? I’m heading over.
When I see the three dots on the screen, I laugh. He’s always up early for a surf. The message reads: Evan Ashford - Down at the usual. Just arrived.
He generally surfs in the same place, so I drive my truck down to meet him.
Easy to spot, he’s built for the sport, has that Hawaiian tan, and a million-dollar grin. He comes toward me. “Good to see you, brother.”
“You too, man.” I reach in and dig my board from the back. “How goes it?”
“You know, busy. Wife, family. Business.”
“You’re still managing to squeeze some surfing in?”
“Trust me, Mallory would make me. I’m a bear of irritability if I don’t kneel to the ocean altar at least two times a week. I miss the days when I could surf all day. But I won’t complain. Life is good. What’s going on in yours?”
We head over to the sand and rub wax all over the boards. I’ve known Evan a few years, not before he settled down, but I’ve heard some stories.
I say, “I’m out in New York with my license to get some business. Your old stomping grounds, right?”
He looks out at the water as the sun rises. “High school days. It’s been a long time since I called that place home.”
“I’m with a girl out there.”
“Yeah? You thinking about growing some roots in the city?”
“She’s the first one who ever made me consider it and now I want that.”
We bump fists and then stand, tossing the wax with some of his stuff. Just before we drop our boards in the water, Evan says, “I talk a lot of shit about missing the surf, but I’d miss my girl more. Seems like a good trade off and you coming out ahead if she’s worth the sacrifice.”
“She is.”
“Glad to hear it. I get first wave.”
“Naturally.” We both start paddling out.
Evan’s words stay with me—“I’d miss my girl more”—as I burn out my muscles on wave after wave. Now that I have Tatum in my life, I’d miss her more than anything else as well. When it’s good, it’s fan-fucking-tastic.
Now we have to work on those bad times.
Before I back out the truck, Evan calls, “Come see me in Hawaii sometime and bring your girl. It’s paradise out there.”
With my arm hanging out the window, I laugh. “I just might take you up on that offer.”
“Hope you do.”
When I get back to the house, it’s just gone nine. I’m later than I wanted to be, but glad that it appears she’s still in bed. I walk lightly down the hall, not wanting to wake her. I’ll take a quick shower and then make her breakfast. We can sit on the deck and I know she’ll start coming around to maybe splitting our time if that’s even possible.
We just need to get the conversation going so we can plan our lives because her walls don’t scare me.
And I intend to comfort her from fears. I’m not leaving this home permanently. We will be able to afford both places. The party life of LA can go, but this place . . . this place I chose for a family. Even if we’re only here part-time, it will be worth it. Hoping Tatum can see that too. Eventually.
When I enter my room, the covers are rumpled, and the bed is empty. “Tatum?” I look to the bathroom, but the door is wide open and she’s not in there. “Tatum?”
I know.
Deep down, my heart already knows.
But I do it because I need to prove it to my brain. I open the closet door to verify her suitcase is missing.
Just like she is.
Fuck.
Tatum is gone.
30
Tatum
What have I done?
My shell is so hard it’s become a detriment. Harrison Decker loves me. And I love him. “I love him so much that it hurts, Natalie. Like physical pain. So much that he makes me feel out of control.”