Completion (12 page)

Oh god. I'm not drunk enough for this. Please don't let him say something weird.

“What's wrong?” she asked, her voice soft.

“I just …, miss you. You know?” he said with a laugh, twisting some of her hair around his finger.

“I miss you, too, Ang, but that doesn't mean you get to make out with me in an elevator,” Tate tried to joke, grabbing his free hand and linking their fingers.

“That's not what this is,” he said quietly, his eyes wandering over her face. “I just know that it's going to be a long time before we see each other again. A long time before we have a day to just be us, together. Maybe never.”

Ridiculously, Tate felt like crying.

“Why are you saying that? We still have the rest of this trip, and I can come visit you, and we can -,”

He kissed her again, and this time Tate allowed it. It was different. It was soft, and it was sad. It was like he was saying goodbye, the only way he really knew how. She held onto his hand even tighter, pressing it to her chest.

“You were always my fave, Tater tot,” he breathed, pressing his forehead against hers.

“Ang,
what is going on?
” Tate whispered, staring up at him.

He didn't answer her. Just then, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, startling her. They were on their floor. Even more startling was Jameson, standing in front of the doors, his arms crossed over his chest. One of his eyebrows cocked up as he took in the scene, Ang holding Tate, pressing her up against a wall.

“Interesting,” Jameson murmured. Ang took a deep breath, then smiled. Turned to face the door.

“Hey, Satan, you said do whatever we want,” he teased, then dipped Tate, practically licking the inside of her mouth. She made gagging noises.

“Very funny,
Angier.
”

Ang finally let her go, but not before slapping her on the ass hard enough to send her stumbling into Jameson. He saluted them and said goodnight, then strolled down the hall towards his room, whistling a little tune. Tate stared after him with her jaw hanging open.

What the hell is going on!?

“What the hell was that?” Jameson's words mimicked her thoughts.

“I swear, I have no idea. One minute, we're riding in the elevator with a bunch of his groupies. Next thing I know, he's kissing me like he's gonna die tomorrow,” Tate tried to explain.

“Ah.”

And that was it. Jameson turned and started walking back towards the room. Tate's mind was blown. Jameson hated it when Ang touched her. Hated it when Ang so much as breathed in her direction. She had just told him that Ang had kissed her, and he didn't care!?

“Is there something I'm missing!?” Tate called out, stumbling after him. Jameson held the door open to their room and let her go inside ahead of him.

“What do you mean?” he asked, taking her purse from her and tossing it onto a counter.

“Ang was being all weird, and you're not mad, and … and … I can't get this off,” Tate grumbled, hopping around on one leg as she tried to pull her sandal off. It finally came free and she chucked it over her shoulder.

“You want me to be mad?” Jameson asked, slowly moving to stand in front of her.

“You're always mad, it's one of the things I love most about you,” Tate laughed, and got her other shoe free. She threw that one, as well.

“Hmmm, one of the things. And what do you love
the
most about me?” he questioned in a slow voice.

“It's a toss up,” Tate answered, yawning while she swept her hair up into a ponytail.

“Between what and what?”

“Your dick and your mouth.”

“Jesus.”

“Well, by mouth, I mean words. How you talk.”

“Not much better.”

She snickered and moved out onto the balcony. The breeze was stronger that high up, lifting and moving her hair around. She sighed and pressed her forearms against the railing, leaned over it. Jameson came out and copied her stance, leaning against the railing as well.

“You know I don't mean that,” Tate said in a soft voice.

“Excuse me?”

“The thing I love most about you
is
you,” Tate tried to explain, then hiccuped. He laughed and moved behind her, putting his hands on the railing on either side of her.

“That would be much sweeter if you weren't drunk,” he pointed out.

“I'm not drunk. Just …, tipsy,” she offered. He laughed again, but it was a dark sound, and then she felt his teeth against her shoulder.

“Tipsy enough to let
Angier
put his tongue in your mouth,” he growled.

“Aha, I knew it, you
are
angry,” she teased, then yelped when his teeth nipped particularly hard.

“According to you, I'm always angry. Did you have a good time tonight?” he asked, moving back from her a little.

“I did,” she answered honestly, shivering as she felt his fingers run through her ponytail.

“Did
Angier
get anything else inside you?”

“Wouldn't you like to know,” she joked, then gasped as he yanked back hard on her hair.

“You wouldn't appreciate finding me with my tongue down Isadora's throat,” he hissed.

“No, I wouldn't.”

He let go of her hair and turned her around, so she was facing him.

“Did you like it?” he demanded. She barked out a laugh.

“What kind of question is that? It was a kiss, of course I liked it. Kissing is fun,” she replied. He glared at her.

“Stop being a smart ass.”

“I didn't ask him to kiss me, I didn't want him to, I tried to get him to stop. Jesus, when did you become Mr. Insecurity?” Tate questioned.

“Right around when I caught my girlfriend deep throating another man's tongue,” he snapped back.

“Oh, for fuck's sake. You know, I was actually having a good time, so if you're gonna keep acting like a bitch, then I'd rather finish the night somewhere else,” she warned him.

“Watch it,” he countered.

“No. I didn't do anything wrong, and you're throwing a hissy fit!”

“A what?”

“A hissy fit, you know – that thing little girls do when they don't get their way.”

When his hand wrapped around her throat, Tate wondered if maybe she'd pushed him too far.

Or not far enough …

“Does
this
feel like something a little girl does?” he asked, his voice deadly soft. She took a deep breath through her nose.

“Feels like something a bitch does,” she replied.

His fingernails dug in as he squeezed and air became difficult to come by.

“How come
Angier
gets to maul you in an elevator, but I try to have a conversation, and I get back talk and arguments?” Jameson growled. She smiled.

“Because it's so much funner,” she teased, her voice little more than a breath.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Alright.”

Angier may have gotten to maul her in an elevator, but Jameson got to strip her bare on a balcony. Ate her out like he was starving for her. Then bent her over that railing and fucked her so hard, security came to the door to investigate all the screaming and cursing.

Best night ever.

Sometimes Jameson tried to pinpoint the exact moment he fell in love with Tate. Sure, from the first moment he'd seen her, she'd managed to steal a small piece of his heart. But when he'd been unequivocally
in love
with Tatum O'Shea, that was harder to peg down.

When he'd hurt her feelings by calling her stupid, back when they'd first started sleeping together, that's when he'd first realized he cared about her. Thought of her as more than just sex. Then at her parent's house, when Robert had hit her. That was the first moment when he thought of her as truly belonging to him, as something no one else was worthy of touching. Only him.

When he was in Berlin and he had seen newspapers proclaiming that she was dating Nick Castille, the first baseman for the Boston Red Sox. That's when he knew he had a problem. He'd been hurt. He'd forgotten what that felt like; Tatum O'Shea had reminded him.

Seeing her in the hospital, that had hurt his soul. Her yelling at him that she wished he didn't exist, that had killed him inside. Her not trusting him, not believing him while they were in Spain, that had hurt his heart.

But the pearls.

She had kept it together for a lot of Spain. Sure, they fought, she yelled at him. But she didn't ask him
why
. Never really questioned why he'd done what he'd done. Jameson was a selfish, self-centered asshole, he knew this, so he never thought to question her
lack of
questioning.

But the pearls.

She had a melt down in an alley in Paris. Crying in a way he'd never seen before; not from Tate. No, Tatum O'Shea was too strong for tears,
real
tears. But there they were, as she sobbed and screamed. Demanded to know how he could do something like that to her, why did he do something like that to her?

How could I have done that to her?

Jameson would later tell Tate that was the moment when he realized she was in love with him.

What he never told her was that was the moment he fully realized that he was in love with her, too.

“I can't see you,” Tate whined.

“How about now?”

“I see nostrils and chin.”

“At least they're sexy nostrils.”

“No such thing.”

“Okay, how about now?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed. “Yes, there's that beautiful smile.”

Nick Castille laughed, raking his hand through his hair. It was midnight in Tucson, Arizona. Which equaled ten in the morning in Hong Kong. Nick had texted her, asking her to make some time to Skype with him. He wanted to see her, he said. It had been a long time. So he agreed to stay up late if she got up early.

They had kept in touch. She would always have a special place in her heart for Nick. Sure, in a way, he had tried to subtly come between her and Jameson – as Jameson was fond of pointing out. But Nick had also been ridiculously understanding, beyond forgiving, and he'd always allowed her to do her thing, with no questions and no judgement. When she had picked Jameson over him, Nick hadn't even gotten that upset. He had wished them well.

Over the course of the last two years, they had managed to see each other. When he was in Boston for the baseball season, sometimes they would all go out for lunch. When Sanders had lived at home, she would drag him to baseball games. Jameson wasn't exactly in love with Nick, but he wasn't threatened by him, either. Still, the devil didn't take kindly to men who had tried to steal his succubus, so it would be a long time before Nick was welcome in the Weston house. Most of Tate's interactions with Nick were limited to online.

“So how are you?” he asked, sipping at something in a coffee mug.

“Good, good. It's been fun here,” she assured him.

“That's good. When do you think you'll be coming home?” he continued.

“I don't know, probably soon. Jameson came here to see his lawyer, who was actually in another city. They got together yesterday – Jameson's actually with him right now,” Tate explained. “So I guess as soon as they're done doing whatever it is they're doing, we'll head home.”

“Awesome. Sounds good. How's Ang?”

Tate snorted, resting her chin on her hands. She was laying on her stomach on the floor, in the middle of the suite's living room. She had a laptop opened in front of her, within arms reach.

“Good. Kinda weird, actually. We went out last night, and before I got back to my room, he got all, like, emotional, or something. I thought he was gonna tell me he had cancer,” she recapped.

“Nah, he's probably just glad to be back with his buddy again. You're a hard person to miss,” Nick assured her.

“
Pfffft.
You don't miss me,” she teased.

“I miss your jokes.”

“My jokes are horrible.”

“Yeah, they make mine look better in comparison.”

“Speaking of better looking, is there any chance I can get a peek?” she asked, smiling big, hoping that would butter him up.

“Tate, it's midnight here,” Nick pointed out, but he had trouble holding back his smile. He had a horrible poker face.

“I know, I know, but you know I love it,” she begged, pouting her lips.

“Yeah, yeah, you only talk to me for one reason anymore,” he grumbled as he leaned out of the camera's view.

“At least it's a good reason!” she laughed. The Skype's feed blurred with the movement of Nick's arm. Just pixels filled with dark and light. Then a shape moving behind Nick. Another blurry shape coming into focus as it was held in front of him.

“Hold on, watch this,” Nick's voice said, and then the camera cleared.

“
Dadda.
”

Tate squealed and waved her hands at the plump baby that was looking back at her. The little boy had his daddy's big brown eyes and mop of thick brown hair. The little tyke said the word several more times before Nick pulled baby Jake back from the camera and sat him on his lap.

“Is that his first word!?” Tate exclaimed.

“Yeah. Clearly a smart boy,” Nick explained.

“I don't know where he gets it from, I must've said '
mama
' a million times to him!” the blur behind Nick laughed. Then it leaned over his shoulder, came into the light and focus of the lens.

“He's a boy, there's no accounting for taste,” Tate assured Nick's wife, Laura. The other woman laughed.

“Very true. I guess I should just be thrilled – he's only ten months old, pretty soon to be saying anything. Maybe he'll be a genius,” Laura said, smoothing her fingers over the baby's hair.

“As long as he knows how to throw a ball, I don't care how smart he is,” Nick added. Tate and Laura snorted in unison.

Two years ago, when Tate had left Nick in Tucson, she never would've guessed that a year later he would meet the woman he was going to marry. Or that they would immediately get pregnant and have a baby. It had been quick, but it was clear that the two really loved each other. And Tate got along great with Laura – another reason why she wished she could visit Nick more often. His family felt like an extension of herself. Laura was almost like the sister Tate wished she would've had, and baby Jake was her nephew. She loved them.

“When are you going to have a little Kane running around?” Laura teased. Tate made a gagging sound.

“God, can you imagine Jameson with a baby? It would shi-, er, ahhhh, need a diaper change, and Jameson would pass out. Or try to sell it for a clean one,” Tate joked.

“I bet he'd surprise you. But speaking of dirty diapers,” Nick said, holding Jake away from his lap. Laura groaned.

“Does it ever end? Good seeing you, Tate, come visit us soon!” she called out as she carried the baby away from the camera.

“I'll try! Give him kisses for me!” Tate yelled. Nick laughed.

“Seriously, I bet he'd be great with kids,” Nick went back to what they'd been talking about.

“Jameson? Have you ever seen him around kids? He looks like he wants to puke,” Tate pointed out.

“What about you? Do
you
want kids?”

“Well, yeah, someday.”

“Then he'll want kids.”

“You sound so sure.”

“Tate, the man lives to see you happy. The moment you're ready to have kids, he'll step up to the plate,” Nick assured her. She smiled.

“Thanks for having faith in him,” she said softly.

“You're very welcome.”

“Why did you want me to call you?” she asked. Nick shrugged.

“Just missed your face. Sometimes it feels like time is moving so fast, and next thing I know, something else big has happened. I just …, didn't want to miss anything,” he tried to explain. Tate frowned.

“What would you miss with me? Still the same ol' Tate and Jameson over here,” she pointed out. He nodded.

“I know. But like I said, sometimes things move fast,” he repeated himself.

Tate wanted to question him further, but she was interrupted by the door to the suite opening. She propped herself up on her hands and by the time she looked over her shoulder, Jameson was halfway across the room, taking his jacket off.

“Where were you all morning?” she asked.

“Who are you talking to?” he ignored her question and asked his own.

“Oh, Nick wanted me to call him, say hi,” she said, lowering herself and rolling to the side so Jameson could see the computer screen.

“Oh god,” he groaned.

“Hi, Jameson!” Nick's voice called out. “Still a little ray of sunshine, I see!”

Jameson gave him the finger.

“You boys,” Tate said in a teasing voice, rolling back so she was in front of the screen again.

“I'll let you go. I just wanted to say hi, really. Have a good trip, and be nice to him,” Nick instructed. Tate guffawed.

“Are you joking? I'm
always
nice to him,” she said.

“
Lies,
” Jameson called out from behind her.

“I know how you are, so stop bitching all the time and just appreciate the good stuff,” Nick told her. She gasped.

“I take back every nasty thing I said about you,” Jameson added, and Nick laughed.

“Okay, yeah, this conversation needs to end before something weird happens, like you two becoming friends,” Tate grumbled.

“It was good talking to you. Keep in touch,” Nick said. She nodded.

“Always. Give my love to Laura, and big sloppy kisses to Jake,” she told him.

“Give my love to Laura, too!” Jameson yelled. Nick snorted.

“I'll talk to you later.”

Tate blew him a kiss, then the screen went dark. She sighed and closed the laptop. Laid her cheek against her hands. She hummed to herself, lazily kicking her feet in the air while she thought about their conversation. “
Sometimes things move fast,
” he'd said – but why? Why was everyone being so weird?

“He just wanted to say hi?” Jameson asked from behind her.

“Mmmm hmmm,” she replied.

“That's nice. I guess.”

“What've you been up to?” she asked with a yawn.

“Picking up these contracts from my lawyer. What we came here for,” he told her.

“Does this mean we're going home?” she guessed.

“Not quite yet.”

Tate was about to question him further when something landed against her lower back. She lifted herself onto her elbows, trying to look over her shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a dark green folder laying on top of her. She could also see Jameson walking away from her, heading back into the kitchen.

“What is this?” she grumbled, reaching back behind her and trying to get ahold of the folder.

“Something you need to look over, before tonight,” he said as she swung around into a sitting position, crossing her legs. She glanced at him. He was standing in the kitchen area, drinking from a bottle of Perrier.

“Your contract stuff? Why do you want me to look over it?” Tate asked with a laugh, opening the folder and flipping through the pages. A couple words jumped out at her and she stopped laughing. Stopped flipping. Moved back to the first page.

“Because, we need to talk about it. It's the reason why we came here,” he told her simply. Tate's eyes flew over the words.

“But …, you said you had to talk to your lawyer …, about a merger. Your will,” she reminded him. Reminded herself. She was so confused. She skipped to the next page.

“I did. My will is over here, you can look at it next,” he promised. She swallowed thickly and slowly stood up, her hands starting to shake.

“Jameson,” she said his name slowly as she flipped to the last page.

“Yes?”

“Is this what I think it is?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On what you think it is. Your brain is one of the weirdest fucking places I've ever been, I have no clue what you're thinking,” he laughed.

It wasn't funny.

“What the fuck is this!?” she demanded, skipping back to the middle of the document. Terms like “
property division
” and “
life style
” and “
mutual assets
” leapt out at her. Swam around in her vision.

“I told you, it's what we came here for,” he repeated himself. She stared at him.

“Jameson, this is a goddamn prenup.”

“I know.”

“Why do you have a prenup?”

“Because I'm not fucking stupid.”

“Yeah, but why are you handing it to me right now!?”

“Did you wake up stupid? Why are we even having this conversation? Oh, you need a pen. Here, you can sign at the bottom, on the back,” Jameson informed her, walking towards her with a pen in his outstretched hand. She slapped the Mont Blanc away.

“Are you fucking shitting me!? Who are you marrying? Cause it sure as shit isn't me,” she snapped. He rolled his eyes.

“Okay, before you flip out, just let me talk to yo-,”

“You flew me all the way to Hong Kong so your lawyer could draw up a prenuptial agreement?
That's
your idea of marriage!?” Tate demanded. She was breathing so hard, she felt like she was going to hyperventilate.

“No, that's my idea of what's necessary
before
marriage. A marriage involves other documents, which are in the folder with my will. It also requires a certified officiant and witnesses, so sign the fucking prenup so we can meet up with them and get this bullshit over with,” Jameson growled.

“Oh my god. This is really your idea of a proposal, isn't it?” she gasped. “Is this a fucking joke?”

“You're certainly turning it into one.”

“I can't believe you! Two fucking years, and you just hand me a contract? Sign here, then let's go sign another piece of paper!?
Is this a fucking joke!?
” Tate was almost shrieking.

“Calm the fuck down.”

“You calm down! Jesus, Jameson, am I just another business deal to you!? A '
merger
'!?” she hissed at him. He glared down the length of his nose at her.