“I do.” My answer makes me cringe right after. I mean, someone telling you they got screwed over on their wedding day probably doesn’t want to hear those two magical words . . . wait. What? Magical? I shake my head and inwardly roll my eyes at myself.
He continues, not noticing my crazy or maybe just polite enough not to point it out, “But sometimes we get caught in the moment more than the reality of what’s right in front of us.” Shifting to face me, he adds, “I was thinking we could go out sometime.”
“Me?” I ask, not seeing that coming. “Ah. I get it. I’m right in front of you. You took that as a sign.”
Shrugging, he says, “It couldn’t hurt to find out.”
Hurt. I don’t get hurt too much, but disappointment finds me easily when it comes to men. “I appreciate the words of wisdom and self-realization, but it’s not wise for me to date clients.”
“I’m not one, not anymore.”
Laughing, I waggle my finger. “I see what you did there, but I think we should keep things professional.” Turning back to my machine, I punch it up a level to start walking again. “You’re attractive, and I’m sure you can date whoever you want. You should play the field, recover from the breakup, and then find your co-signer for a property out in the Hamptons.”
“That’s a very specific dream, but I’m more interested in this weekend and spending time with you.” Ah. He’s still playing the field and trying to play me. Although I didn’t need the confirmation to see through the situation, he has me thinking about my own goals. I hit the next level on the treadmill.
Working with my best friend has been amazing, and making her dreams come true has been rewarding. But am I settling when I’m actually working for her and more focused on her dreams than my own?
Here I thought being twenty-six, being able to do whatever I want and living on my own in New York City was a dream come true. A lot of my friends still live at home.
Home.
At what point does it switch from your parents' home to your own? I thought that’s what I had, but maybe I don’t. Not yet. And what dream of mine has come true?
Is it really an accomplishment that I can stay out as late as I want and sleep in on the weekends? I have no obligations or commitments other than showing up for work by ten in the morning. I live life on my terms. Shouldn’t that be enough? At least, for now?
In college, I wanted to conquer the world and do something that mattered. I never had an interest in the shipping industry of the family business anyway. I wanted to make a difference somehow, forge my own path, and break away from the legacy of the Devreux name.
What happened to that girl? My actions—wild to the core, a party girl, a socialite—used to be motivated by getting my parents’ attention. Though when I got out of hand, my parents didn’t ground me. Instead, it was Natalie who talked sense into me. Tried and true, she was always there no matter how I behaved.
But that’s not her job anymore. Maybe it’s time I grow up and reevaluate my goals. Or set some in the first place. She’s now Mrs. Christiansen, but I’m still just me.
Alone.
For Natalie, baby makes three. Where does that leave me?
Alone.
I like my morning routine, but it might be nice to wake up next to someone every now and again. I need to think bigger, and now more than ever, I need to think about the future. I need to focus on myself.
I need to make a change, get off this hamster wheel routine or the treadmill to forge my own path. I love my job, but I need to grow it and make it mine.
“Tatum?”
“Huh?” I’d almost forgotten about Elijah. Elijah’s cute and all. His ring in a candy box proposal was sweet, but he’s not my type.
“What level are you going? I can set mine to match.” He points at the display screen.
“Match?” I sound like an idiot, but—Oh! “The treadmill. Match? I don’t want to match. I want to stand out. To level up to my full potential.”
His head jerks back. “So twelve?”
Not sure why he seems shocked, but I don’t have time to overanalyze it. My head is spinning with bigger plans than where I am now . . . in life or at the gym. “That’s it! I don’t want to be a ten. I want to be a twelve.”
“You already are. I was intimidated to even come over here to talk to you.” That makes me smile. Maybe he was sincere earlier.
This isn’t about being single or keeping up with my best friend. This is about developing into the person I’m meant to be. My feet land on the rails of the treadmill, and I punch stop. “I’m sorry. I need to go.” Jumping off the treadmill, I’m a woman on a mission. “See you around, Elijah, and let me know if you need our gifting services again.” I head toward the dressing room.
“I will,” he replies, confusion ringing in his tone. “See you around.”
Walking into the bright and airy SoHo office, I’m greeted by Renee, our reception assistant. “Good morning, Tatum.”
“Good morning. Is Natalie in?”
“She is.”
“Thanks.” I round the corner and head straight for Natalie’s office, which is in the corner next to mine. I say hello to a few of the staff on the way but waste no time. Pushing into her office, I lean against the door. “I had an epiphany.”
She peers up with a raised eyebrow. “Care to share, or are you going to hold that dramatic pose all morning?”
“Holding the pose. How do I look?”
“Gorgeous, darling. Want me to take a pic?”
I start laughing and shut the door. “No. I was only doing it for effect.” I sit across from her and add, “I’m more than a sidekick.”
“Sidekick? Who called you that? If anything, I’ve always been your sidekick.”
“Precisely. Not that you’re second fiddle or anything, but I’m the one who was out there—”
“And I was the one reining you in.”
Grinning, it feels like old times with her, the days when we were younger and a lot more naïve. We spent every minute together as soon as we got out of school and in the summers. We’ve not quite captured that feeling in a while, until now. “It’s like you can read my mind.”
She shrugs as if that’s a given and begins straightening her desk. “We’re besties for a reason.”
“I love you, Natalie.”
Her gaze flies up to meet mine. “And I thought the entrance was dramatic. I love you, too, Tatum,” she replies, giggling. “Now, what’s going on with you today?”
“The baby. I’ve been thinking a lot about this.”
A low gasp is heard, and then she leans forward conspiratorially. “I’m so glad because I can’t think of anything else.”
Reaching across the desk, I cover her hands with mine. “I’m here for you. This is incredible news, and I don’t want to miss anything.”
Tears well in her eyes, and she attempts to blink them back. It’s not working. It never does. You would think we’d always be wearing waterproof mascara. One day we’ll learn. I’m quick to grab a tissue from a box behind her so she can dab the corners of her eyes before the tears mess up her makeup.