Vow of Honor (Vow Series Book 3) Page 7

  And here she is, standing in front of me in silk cat pajamas looking fucking cute, even if she's been crying and filling her cart with enough processed shit to last through the damn apocalypse. A small, protective instinct wants to demand to know why she’s out alone so late and carry her to her car so she won’t step on anything that could hurt her. I don’t know why I care.

  She keeps popping up everywhere I go. Both times I saw her outside of PT this week, I got out of there before she saw me. Today she heard my muttered curse because it’s just the two of us in this grocery store besides the employees.

  I’m usually so careful with my words, but my stupid mouth just opened and let the words slip before I could control it, telling her I'd remembered seeing her. Fuck. She's my physical therapist, I can't flirt with her. Now she's looking at me in confusion.

  "I'm not sure if I should take that in a good way or a bad way," she finally responds.

  I grunt instead of responding, keeping my mouth closed. Seems to be safer that way. My words flow too easily around her, and I don't like it. Just another reason she irritates me.

  "What are you doing in this aisle?" she asks, looking down at my cart with a frown. It's filled with fruits and vegetables and packs of lean meats.

  "Picking strawberries," I say, slinging her earlier retort back to her. Her eyes pop up, glaring at me. My words may flow too easily, but at least I still have control over my facial expressions. I prevent the smile wanting to break across my face and make my lips stay in a flat line. "Want me to show you the produce section?" I ask sarcastically.

  She huffs, turning toward the ice cream and scanning the flavors before opening the door, grabbing three, and tossing them in her cart. "I should go," she says quietly. "Don't want my ice cream to melt."

  "Yep," I reply before watching her walk down the aisle. Right before she turns the corner, she glances at me over her shoulder. When she finds me staring at her, she gives a little wave before taking off.

  I groan, turning back toward the desserts and finding my favorite sugar-free chocolate treats.

  "Hold that stretch," Tatum says, running her small hand along my shoulder blade and down my arm. "Do you feel any pain?"

  "Yes."

  Tatum steps in front of me with a crease between her brows and a frown pulling down her lips. "Where?"

  "My ass."

  “What?” Tatum squeaks, her eyes darting down to my ass.

  “It’s you. You’re the pain in my ass.”

  She scoffs. "You're a pain in my ass."

  “Good one,” I mutter, shaking my head.

  The loud cackle that rings out behind me can't be mistaken. I release the stretch Tatum told me to hold and turn to find Savannah, her eyes flicking back and forth between Tatum and me.

  Shit.

  "What are you doing here?" I ask as I step toward her, worried something has happened and also hoping she didn’t notice I lied about my physical therapist being pretty. She’d get too many ideas in that head of hers. My eyes flash behind her, but Liam isn't there which causes the uncertainty to sky rocket.

  "That's not a nice greeting, sugar pop," Savannah says, curling her hair behind her ear, looking down at her shoes. I don’t miss the smirk that slides across her face before vanishing. When she looks up at me there’s a sheen of tears in her eyes, but they don’t look sad. Only mischievous.

  I release a frustrated breath.

  "I'm pregnant," she says into the silence.

  "What?" I croak, looking down at her still-flat stomach where her hand is resting.

  "It's yours," she says, her lip quirking up on the side, completely giving her away. "You said you would always love me, shortcake."

  "Oh, my," I hear whispered from behind me as a heavy thud hits the floor. Tatum must’ve dropped a medicine ball.

  "Christ," I groan, my heated face signaling my embarrassment. I run my palm over my head and squeeze my neck when it lands there.

  "I'll step out for a second," Tatum whispers, scooting around us as her eyes fly back and forth between Savannah, me, and the floor. Her cheeks are pink. My hand flies out, latching onto her arm, not letting her move even an inch more. I don't like her, but for some reason, I don't want her to think I'm the one who knocked Savannah up.

  "Savannah," I growl.

  "Fine," she says, smiling, her eyes flicking to Tatum and happiness takes over her features. "I'm only joking. I just like to make him mad."

  "It's fun to make him mad," Tatum says, grinning back at Savannah.

  I drop my hand from Tatum's arm, and she glances down at that spot with a little frown. My hand clenches in a fist and opens back up, trying to release the feeling of her skin on mine. It feels like pinpricks moving along the skin that was touching Tatum. Savannah's eyes are bright and excited as she flicks them back and forth between Tatum and me.

  "I like her," Savannah states.

  "Yippee," I mumble while scratching my abdomen just to give my hands something to do besides touching Tatum. "What are you doing here, Sav?"

  "Sav?" Tatum asks. "So you will use nicknames, just won't call me by my preferred name."

  "Don't know you," I state firmly, angling my body toward Savannah and away from Tatum.

  "I'm your physical therapist." Her hands fall onto her hips as she faces me completely, squaring off with me.

  "She's my friend,” I bite out.

  "I'm Savannah." Savannah sticks out her hand toward Tatum with a smile splitting her face. It wasn't too long ago that it was much harder to make Savannah smile. That nightmare is completely behind her, and she's on cloud nine with her new husband.

  "Tatum. Call me Tate," Tatum says, shaking Savannah's hand while smirking at me. She thinks she's getting the upper hand by meeting one of my friends.

  "Tate." Savannah scrunches her nose as her smile grows even larger. "That's cute. I like that name. Do you know what it means?"

  “It means happy,” Tatum replies with her bright grin.

  “Fitting,” I say out loud without meaning to, but brush it off quickly by turning to Savannah.

  I raise an eyebrow at her. That's kind of a weird question to ask someone. Savannah's hand drops to my forearm, squeezing lightly. "I really am pregnant."

  "Really?" I ask.

  A hand drops to her flat stomach. "Yeah." Tears shimmer in her eyes. "So, now I'm really interested in names." My arms shoot out, wrapping around her and hugging tightly, bringing her flush to my chest as my hand cradles the back of her head. Her hands clutch my back as she whispers, "Thank you. I'm alive and here because of you."

  "It was all you, Savannah." I drop a kiss to the top of her head as pride swells through my chest.

  "Told him the happy news?"

  I look up, seeing Liam striding toward us with a broad grin.

  One of my hands leaves Savannah's back, extending toward Liam. "Congrats, man."

  Liam takes Savannah from my arms, encasing her in his and kissing her cheek. "Thanks, James. I—"

  "Don't," I say. I didn't do anything besides befriend Savannah and teach her some self-defense moves to help her protect herself. The rest of it was all her.

  "James—"

  I wave my hand to cut him off. "What are y'all doing here?"

  "My OB is close to here. I remembered that you had your appointment today. Just stopping by to say hi," Savannah informs me.

  "I can't believe you have two friends," Tatum says, chuckling at her own joke. My glare sharpens, pinning her to the spot. She shrugs and grins when Liam lets out a shocked noise that quickly turns into a howl of laughter.

  "Turning on the charm, James?" he asks with his hand on his shaking chest.

  "Fuck off," I order, leveling him with a glare.

  "Liam, this is Tate, James’s physical therapist. Tate, this is my husband, Liam." Savannah’s making unnecessary introductions. She and Liam will be out of here in a minute, and they'll never see Tatum again.

  "Can we get back to our session?" I ask, interrupting t
he greeting and trying to halt any further conversation.

  "Tate, we're going out tonight to The Cellar; we hang out there a few nights a week. You should come," Savannah says, clutching Tatum's arm as if they’re old friends.

  "That's a great idea, gorgeous," Liam says, smiling at his wife.

  "She's busy," I growl.

  "I'd love to come join y'all," Tatum replies at the same time.

  "No, you wouldn't," I insist.

  "Yeah, I think I would," she says, smirking at me before turning back to Savannah. "Can y'all give me some more pointers tonight about how to annoy this guy?"

  "Love to." Liam grins, and I make a note to not go so easy the next time we spar in the ring at my gym. If I have to, I'll order some shitty pads, just to make sure he feels every hit.

  "Can't wait," Tatum says.

  "Ride in an Uber. Us girls usually drink too much, and with Harper and I not being able to drink, our friend Valerie is going to need someone to sip on wine with."

  I walk away, knowing I lost this and Tatum is coming tonight. Maybe I shouldn't go. I could stay home and not torture myself with Tatum's incessant chatter. Savannah and Tatum keep talking while I go through my own series of stretches, working my muscles.

  I keep my back to the group so I don't have to see them together. What the hell is Savannah up to? She's never invited someone before, and Liam looked way too delighted to bask in my torture. If they get Tatum close to Hudson, I'll never hear the end of it.

  I should stay home.

  I'm definitely going to stay home.

  As much as I don't want her there, a small part of me is curious about what Tatum is like away from the hospital. Seeing her in her crazy pajamas in the middle of the night at the grocery store piqued my interest.

  "How's that feel?"

  I turn my head, and Tatum is looking over the position I'm holding. "Good," I grumble. If I have to see her tonight, I'm going to ignore her as much as possible now or it will be way too much of her in one day.

  "Your friends left," she says.

  I grunt, changing positions, relishing in the burn I feel pulling through the muscle over my shoulder blade.

  "I won't come if you really don't want me to," Tatum says softly, and something I don't want to acknowledge pulls in my chest, clutching my heart tight.

  I want to tell her that I don't want her there, she shouldn't be there, but instead, I find myself saying something entirely different. "You should come."

  Chapter 10

  Tatum

  When Savannah asked me to go out with them, my first instinct was to say no. It's not necessarily inappropriate to hang out with a patient, but it's also not encouraged. I said yes for two reasons. One, I really need some new friends that don't know Patrick. Our entangled lives are becoming too much for me to handle. Every time I go out with my friends, I'm reduced to a ball of anxiety, wondering if he'll be there. Will he be alone? Will he notice me? I'm done being that pathetic girl. He's made it clear that he'll keep me around as plan B. I'm done being plan B. As a girlfriend and as a friend. Savannah is lovely and funny. She could definitely be a friend. Her husband seems just as wonderful, and it's a bonus that he's fun to look at.

  Reason number two that I said yes? The shade of James’s face was priceless. I couldn't resist. We've been at each other's throats since meeting, always trying to one-up the other. Each session I try to make him admit that my plan for him is working. Slow and steady. That's my motto. Being offered the chance to go out to make new friends and annoy James, there's no way in hell I'd say no.

  I'm not sure what to expect tonight. I've never been to The Cellar. There's a menu online, but I don't want to be the only one eating or turn into that girl—the only stumbling drunk because I didn’t eat. Probably wouldn't be the way to make friends. I like to be prepared, which is why I'm now in my kitchen cooking pasta with roasted tomatoes.

  A grin takes over my face when Isabella's ringtone cuts off my music. I turn to my phone, propping it against the back of the bar, and swipe across the screen to answer her video call. "Hey, girlie," I call over my shoulder as I turn back to grab the bowl I just finished preparing.

  "Come entertain me," Isabella whines.

  I sit at the bar with my bowl of pasta, adjusting the phone so it's focused on me. Isabella is lying on her bed with her arm stretched in front of her to hold her phone while the other hand is holding up her head Her full lips are turned down in a pout.

  "Where's Spencer?" I ask before taking my first bite.

  She rolls to her back, sighing dramatically. "Working. As usual. He's in New York."

  "Bummer," I respond. Spencer works for his father's hotel business, which requires a lot of travel to their properties around the world. Isabella is left alone in their monstrosity of a house often. She hates it. She works from home as a web designer, so it's not unusual that I get a call from her like this when she's desperate for some human interaction.

  "I offered to go with him, but he said I would be bored. I'm bored here, though, and isn't half the fun of working from home that I get to work from anywhere?"

  "But sitting in a hotel room working, unable to explore wherever you are is completely different."

  She shrugs, still pouting, staring off into a corner of her room. I know spending so much time apart from Spencer is hard on her, but I feel like something else is going on.

  "How long is he gone?" I ask.

  Her eyes flick to the screen. "Stop worrying. You have that wrinkle between your eyebrows you get when you're worried. He's only gone for a few days. I'm fine."

  She doesn't seem fine, though. "Are you okay?" I ask softly.

  Her chest rises as she takes a deep breath before smiling a brilliant smile. It's not her genuine happy smile, but it's the one that tells me she wants to change the subject. "I'm fine. I just miss my fiancé. It's a good excuse to hang out with my bestie, though. Come over. Cook me dinner."

  I laugh, taking a sip of my water before I choke on the bite of pasta. "You'll have to make your own dinner. I have plans."

  Isabella gasps, sitting up, her eyes becoming so big and round she looks like a cartoon character. "A date? With who? Patrick? Someone new? Tell me everything!"

  Covering my mouth with my hand as I chuckle, I shake my head before answering. "Not a date. With some friends."

  "Who? I'll meet up with y'all. No one called me."

  "Some new friends," I answer vaguely. Can you call someone a friend after talking to them for five minutes? Can I call a patient who I love to annoy a friend? I don't know, but I was invited and I'm going.

  "Who?" she asks again with a tiny, adorable scowl on her face. Her tone is laced with skepticism and curiosity.

  I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing as I get up from the bar, placing my empty bowl in the dishwasher. Isabella is waiting for me to answer. "One of my patients had a friend stop by today during our session. We hit it off and she invited me out with her."

  "Are you sure she wasn't asking you on a date?"

  "Yeah." I laugh. "I'm sure. She was with her sexy-as-sin husband and they have a bun in the oven."

  "Is your patient going to be there?"

  "Yes," I say slowly, looking at the wall as I walk down the hallway toward my bedroom and into my closet.

  "Is he hot?"

  "He's…." I trail off, thinking about James. He's huge. Intimidating. Frustrating. Silent. Broody. Annoying. And so undeniably sexy. I shiver thinking of his eyes. "Good looking," I finish, hoping she'll drop it, but I know she won't.

  "Really?" she asks, waggling her eyebrows.

  "He's more frustrating than he is hot."

  "Frustrating?" Isabella rolls to stomach, repositioning the phone against some pillows.

  "Yes, everything about him sets me on edge." I take a dress and a top from the rod and toss them onto my bed as options.

  "Then why are you going tonight?"

  "His friend Savannah and her husband, Liam, seem great. I need new
friends."

  Isabella is silent for a moment. I stop scanning my clothes and look at my phone to see her raise an eyebrow. "New friends?"

  "Yes," I answer. "Our entire friends circle—hell, our entire world is too intertwined with Patrick. I can't... I just need space from it."

  "I get that," Isabella says quietly, looking down while worrying her lip.

  I go back to scanning my clothes, searching for the right outfit. I haven’t filled Isabella in on my latest embarrassing “Get Patrick To Notice Me” attempt. She's been begging for me to forget about him since he dumped me. It's hard to move on, though, when I see him around frequently, when he's thrown in my face constantly. It's time to change that, hence the new friends.

  "I'm not sure what to wear," I say, breaking our silence.

  "Where are y'all going?"

  "Some bar called The Cellar. Have you been?"

  "Yeah," she answers, smiling. “Spence and I went for happy hour once. It’s a cool place.”

  “What should I wear?” Isabella knows my closet almost as well as I do. She could pinpoint an outfit without me having to show her what’s in it.

  “Any of these friends single?”

  I glare at my phone as she winks with a flirtatious smile on her face. I shake my head, unable to stop my smile. "Not sure," I answer honestly. "I'm not interested, though."

  A flash of James’s intense gray eyes appear in my mind before I clear that image. He is the last person I'm interested in. A small, snorting laugh escapes as I think of what a disaster that would be. We'd kill each other ten minutes into a first date. Guaranteed.

  Even with that knowledge, a small piece of me—that I'm trying to ignore—wants to look good tonight and wants him to notice.

  "You can't say you're not interested if you haven't even met them. You could meet the love of your life."

  "The love of my life recently asked me to keep waiting for him while he continues to fuck everything in Texas."