“I wanted to piss him off,” he sighed.
“Mission fucking accomplished,” Jameson swore behind them. Tate glared over her shoulder at him.
“Just go away. You've already ruined my evening – did you have to ruin his!?” she snapped.
“Yes. I came down here to say something, and I'm not fucking leaving till I say it,” Jameson snapped back.
“Well I don't wanna fucking hear it. I've heard enough, so just go fuck yourself,” she said through clenched teeth. He smiled.
“I believe that's your job.”
Nick lurched off the wall, almost knocking her down. She pressed her hands against his front, trying to stop him, but he surged forward. She yelped, lost her footing, and had to wrap her arms around his chest to hold herself upright.
He thinks that's an insult? That's everyday-polite-conversation for Jameson Kane.
“Talk to her like that again, and we'll see who -,” Nick started to shout.
“Shut up!” Tate finally shrieked. Everyone paused. She pushed herself upright and stared at Nick. “Stop trying to defend my honor – there isn't much there to defend. He's not going anywhere, so let's just go back inside.” She heard footsteps and then Jameson was right behind her. She didn't look, but held out an arm, putting her hand on his chest again to force him to keep his distance.
“Tatum,” Jameson's voice was right near her head. Almost pleading sounding. “Hear me. Just this once. Do what you want, not what you think is going to piss me off.” She turned her head back to face him.
“You need to go,” she urged.
He stared at her for a long moment. One of his hands went to his chest and covered her own. His palm was warm. Almost hot. He clenched his fingers around hers, and it was like he was transmitting images and memories straight to her brain. The places his hands had been, the places they had taken her to, if she would just remember. Just listen to him.
“Aright. Alright, baby girl, I'll go. If that's what you want. That's all I came here to do, all I ever wanted to do for you; just give you whatever you want,” he said in a soft voice.
Tate swallowed thickly, but before she could even think about what he had said, he was walking away. Striding towards the elevators, barefoot and in a ball cap. Looking as unlike Jameson Kane as he ever could, as she would probably ever see.
Too much.
“Tatum, are you okay? I'm sorry, about all that, what I said. I didn't know he was here, I was caught off guard,” Nick said from behind her, his hand cupping her elbow. She nodded.
“Yeah. Yeah, I think he got here today,” she said softly.
“You knew?”
“I bumped into him earlier. Just for a couple minutes.”
“Why didn't you say something?” he asked. She shrugged.
“I didn't think it mattered,” she whispered, still staring after him.
Nick pulled her into a hug. She leaned into him, trying to hear his heart beat. Trying to let it ground her. Tried to concentrate on his arms around her. But all she heard was words. So many words, running around her head.
“... You're part of me, you belong with me ... I want to be with you. I want you to be with me ... I can bear the thought of you being out there alone, without me. What I can't bear is the thought of you being out there with the wrong man ...”
“Do you want to leave?” Nick asked. She shook her head and pulled away.
“No, I'm fine. Let's just go sit down,” she told him, and started walking back towards the conference room.
“Wait. What is this?” Nick asked. She turned back to see him scooping up the velvet jewelry box from the ground.
“Nothing. Just ..., nothing. Here, it's mine,” she said, taking it from him.
She sat at the table and fidgeted. She felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest. She felt like was going to puke. She smiled and laughed at all the appropriate times, but she wasn't listening. She was thinking about blue eyes and strong fingers.
Wrong. He's wrong for you. He's never understood what you want, what you really want.
By the time dessert was brought out, she felt like she was calming down. She was laughing at something an outfielder's wife was saying. Nick had even lightened up a little. He had cleaned himself and his nose had stopped bleeding, which was a plus. Now his hand was back on her knee. She ignored the way her skin felt so ..., normal, under his touch.
“Doing okay?” he asked, leaning close to her ear. She nodded.
“Yeah. Just tired,” she replied. He smiled at her.
“Why don't we go upstairs, and I can -,” he started, when he was interrupted by one of the coaches. Tate let out sigh of relief. The last thing she wanted to do was “go upstairs” with Nick.