by Meghan Quinn
“Oh . . . are we getting kinky now? I’m not prepared for phone sex. Give me a second.” He clears his voice and talks in a deep, rich tone, “How you doing, baby? Want me to stroke my gonads for you?”
I hang up and chuckle, not giving him a chance to further whatever fucking disastrous conversation that would have been. With a renewed sense of direction, I grab my wallet, stuff it in my back pocket, and head out to my car in the parking garage just as I get a text message.
Racer: It’s offensive to me that you would hang up just as I start to stroke my penis.
Fucking idiot.
Tucker: Thin ice, man. Smalls is on speed dial.
Racer: Don’t you fucking dare! This reconciliation is in my hands . . . that and my penis.
Tucker: I must be a total moron to have gotten you involved.
Racer: Moron or genius? We will just have to wait and see.
I guess we will.
Chapter Twenty-Five
EMMA
I put my car in park and look at the dark house in front of me. Empty, that’s how it feels. Empty, cold, and not like home. It’s become a place to lay my head. Despite Tucker’s attempts at making it seem like a home, it really isn’t one without him living in it, without his eggs and bacon waking me up in the morning, or without that rough, yet sexy voice of his bouncing off the walls, joking and teasing.
It just isn’t the same at all.
I can’t wait to get out of here. There’s no point for me to move out since graduation is right around the corner, so I just have to grin and bear it.
Sighing, I exit my car, sling my backpack over my shoulder, and enter the house. I lock up before entering the kitchen where I don’t even bother turning on the light. I ate at the student union with Logan and Adalyn, just like every other night for the past few nights. Eating by myself has been rather depressing, so I try to avoid it as much as I can.
I turn the lights on in my bedroom and startle for a second. It’s empty. Everything is gone, the only thing in the room is a vase of peonies with a card on the ground. Is this how he tells me to move out? With the dreaded thank-you note I predicted and some flowers as a last hurrah? What the hell, Tucker? But he said he would fight for me, and I know him.
He does fight for those he cares about.
My heart switches from terrified to twisting and turning from the possibility of Tucker being here. I drop my bag and sit on the ground. I smell the peonies, which draws a smile on my face and pick up the card. Written in familiar handwriting is the word “Baby.” Butterflies float around in my stomach and my throat starts to grow tight.
Excited and nervous, I open the card. On the front is a picture of Niall from One Direction that makes me laugh out loud. Inside there is a long note with a few folded papers. I decide to read the note first.
Hey baby,
When I said I wasn’t giving up, I meant it, but first I have a few things to apologize about. (I wanted to do this in person, but work has gotten in the way, so please bear with me as I try to make this work for us)
Apologies:
I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to contact you. Just because I haven’t talked to you doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about you every second of every goddamn day we’ve been apart. You consume every moment of my day, Emma, and it’s the reason why I’ve taken this time to get my head straight. I’ve had some challenges in my life and without addressing them, without truly finding acceptance, I wouldn’t be mentally healthy enough to give you all of me. And that’s what I want. I want you to own every ounce of me, Emma.
I’m sorry if I ever made you question the way I feel about you, if you ever felt second best to Sadie, or if you ever thought you weren’t good enough for me, if I merely was just using you for fun. Nothing could be further from the truth. Since the moment you moved into my house, our home, I’ve felt light again, free, like the world around me is suddenly full of color. You, baby, are the best thing to ever happen in my life and nothing can ever change that.
I’m sorry I put a roadblock between us, a rule that ended up hurting us more than helping us. At the time, I was still struggling with finding a way to deal with the pain that consumed me. I didn’t want to be reminded of all that I lost. And then you came along, and lit up a bright future for me. So rule number six is off the table . . . which brings me to . . .
Hopefully you haven’t already looked at the papers folded in the card. If you haven’t, open them up, take a look, and then come back to this card.
Tears in my eyes, I unfold the papers and find journal entries in Tucker’s handwriting, dated the day he left up until two days ago. The entries are not even the slightest bit pretty; they’re scribbled, crossed out, almost angry in nature. But as I start to flip through them, the anger seems to become less and less as the days go on. I take a moment to read them, going through the same emotional roller coaster Tucker did writing about Sadie, why she was important to him, the baby and why he was so attached, and at the end, our break up and why that demolished him.
I’m having a hard time catching my breath as his last sentence sticks out above the rest.
I don’t want to let go. I can’t let go. She’s my forever.
A single tear falls on the journal entries and I quickly wipe at my eyes to avoid ruining the beautiful words below me. With my breathing evening out, I turn back to Tucker’s letter and pick up where I left off.
I mean it, Emma. You’re my forever.
I know I fucked up, big time, but I plan on making it up to you and it starts now. I might not be there with you right now to brush a kiss across those beautiful lips of yours before you go to bed, so I want to give you the next best thing . . . well, the next best thing I could think of.
You might be wondering where all your stuff is, right? Since you’re who I want, you’re the girl of my dreams, I want you to be sleeping where I dreamt of you for so many nights before I finally claimed those lips. Go upstairs.
Gathering the card, journal entries, and flowers, I go upstairs making sure to turn on the stairway light. When I reach the top step, I’m floored. Tucker’s room is a combination of both of us. His bed, my dresser. His nightstands, my lights. My rug decorates his floor and my throw pillows decorate the armchair in the corner. And on the bed, there is a brand new white comforter and light grey sheets that make the bed look like a cloud floating in the middle of the room. On every surface, there are pictures of us together, some from when we were young, some taken recently, and of course, there are peonies all around the room.
I can’t believe he did this.
On the bed is another card, and I waste no time opening.
Welcome home, Emma.
This home, it’s ours. No more separate rooms, no more separate beds. We live here together, as one. Racer decorated for me so he better have followed my specific directions and if he touched your underwear in any way, I will make sure to handle him when I get home.
There is a side note written in a different handwriting that says, “I didn’t touch your underwear, but I did peek. Can’t blame a fella. I really liked the yellow lace bra. Hot, Emma. Love, Racer.”
I laugh out loud and cover my mouth. I wondered how Tucker did all of this. I guess I owe Racer a thank you.
I go back to the note.
I hope you like the room. When I get home, we can change anything you want, paint it, or hang things. Whatever you want, baby, I will make happen. Until then, rest easy and know that I’m dreaming about you.
Yours forever,
Tucker
I read the note a few more times before reaching for my phone, my heart full, and the urge to jump and scream in happiness filling me up. I dial Tucker’s number and hold my breath, waiting to hear his rich voice over the phone. But after five rings, his voicemail picks up.
“Hey, you’ve reached Tucker. If this is Emma, be patient, baby. I’ll be in touch soon. Until then, dream of me. If this is Racer, I swear I will tell everyone about your Taco Tuesday misha
p if you give me shit for this message.” The robot comes on the phone and I hang up as I laugh out loud. I want to talk to him . . . badly, but it seems he has a plan I need to wait out.
Sighing, I look around OUR room and sink into the bed.
It isn’t over.
It’s far from over.
***
“Sorry. Hey, watch it, there are people behind you, you know. No, I won’t be quiet. What kind of fucking maze is this? Yes, I go here. What kind of question is that? What am I majoring in? I’m majoring in go fuck yourself . . .”
I look up from my books as I hear a familiar voice grow louder and louder.
“Go ahead, touch me again, see where that gets you. I’m just looking for someone. No, I’m not a lurker. If you would just let me . . . EMMA!” My name is shouted through the entire library, sending a wave of embarrassment down my spine.
I hop up from my seat to find Racer with a bouquet of flowers in his hand, a small bag, and a coffee, struggling against Garrett, one of the library assistants. Racer easily towers over Garrett but Garrett is feisty and is poking Racer in any way he can, making him spin in circles. It’s quite the scene.
Going to his rescue, I say, “Garrett, it’s okay, he’s with me.”
Racer sighs in relief when he sees me approach. Giving Garrett a poke back, he says, “Told you I wasn’t lurking. Christ, man.” Racer pushes past Garrett and looks over his shoulder briefly before turning to me. “Your library watchdog is a real douche.” Racer turns around again while walking backwards. “Learn some self-defense. Yeah, you better run away.”
“Stop it,” I hush him. “You’re going to get me kicked out.”
I guide him back to my table. “The guy is a tool bag.”
“He’s just doing his job.” I sit at my table and nod at the chair next to me. “What are you doing here?”
He holds up his goods. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m Tucker’s little bitch tonight.”
A snort pops out of me as I cover my mouth. He raises his eyebrow at me as I apologize. “Sorry, you’re very sweet for helping out.”
“Yeah, well, he sent me a shit ton of Little Debbie snacks so I’m indebted to him right now.” He hands me the flowers and coffee and sets the bag on the table. “Did you like the room?”
“I love it. It’s perfect. Thank you for working hard on it.”
He waves me off. “Had a little help from Smalls. With the current job finished and Tucker away, we need to fill our days with something. No big deal. Tucker had everything laid out, and we just had to follow his blueprint. As he bought everything online, I just picked it up at the store.”
“Wow.” I take a sip of the coffee, letting the warm liquid stretch down my throat. “He really planned everything out, didn’t he?”
“You have no idea. That dick face has it bad for you.” Racer leans forward and whispers, “Make sure you make him sweat it out a bit. Don’t give in too easily.” He winks and then pulls away. He stands and pushes the bag toward me. “That’s from Prince Charming. I’ve got to get going, early morning tomorrow. See ya, Emma.”
“Bye. Thanks, Racer.”
He salutes me and takes off, keeping an eye on Garrett the entire time.
I have a bouquet of peonies in hand, my favorite coffee in front of me, and a gift bag ready to be opened. I giggle from Racer’s attempt to make it look pretty with tissue paper and open it. Another card.
Hey baby,
Fuck, I miss you. I miss your smile, your laugh, the way you can so easily make me feel at ease. I miss everything and can’t wait to get home to hold you in my arms once again. Until then, here’s a little care package to get you through these long nights of studying.
Get at it, babe, hit those books hard. I’m thinking of you . . . always.
Forever yours,
Tucker
If he’s trying to get me to fall for him, he doesn’t need to try any longer. I’m there. I am so freaking there.
When I reach into the bag, the first thing I pull out is a box of Swiss Cake Rolls with a note on them.
Snack it up, babe. And just because they’re phallic shaped doesn’t mean I’m alluding to anything. But am I picturing you eating these? Fuck yes. P.S. Don’t give any to Racer.
I shake my head and reach into the bag again, pulling out a pack of pencils.
Do you use pencils? I don’t know. But saw them and thought, my girl can’t run out of pencils. So here you go.
My girl. Those two words ring happiness into my heart.
The next thing in the bag I pull out is a T-shirt. Tucker’s T-shirt. I take a sniff of it before reading the note. It smells just like him and makes my heart ache.
In case you were missing me. I hope you are. Wear it to bed, dream of me, baby.
I’m missing him terribly.
The last thing is a gift card to Starbucks in a giant coffee mug with a picture of him smiling like a lunatic on the front. I laugh out loud, disrupting the silence in the library.
For your growing collection of mugs. Knowing you have to put your lips on my face every time you drink out of this mug makes these days a little easier. Also, get some coffee; you’re going to need it for your late nights.
He’s thought of everything. I so desperately want to wrap my arms around him and thank him, to show him that I miss him, that I want nothing more than to be curled up against his chest right now.
Needing to hear his voice, I call him, making sure to be quiet. When his voicemail picks up again, I sigh in frustration.
“Hey, you’ve reached Tucker. If this is Emma, keep hanging in there, baby. Take this time to study, get ready for the end of the year. When you get home, be sure to look under your pillow. There’s a gift card to Macy’s. Get yourself a gradation dress. You deserve it. If this is Racer, thanks for the help. Your second payment of Little Debbie Snacks is on its way. Stop bitching about it.” The robot comes on again and I laugh, but this time, with a heavy heart. I want him home.
I want him home now.
***
Two days until graduation. No more clinical, no more classes, no more mind-numbing lectures. I should be happy. I should be overjoyed, excited, shouting from the rooftops like Adalyn and Logan who are still at the bar celebrating. But instead, I sit in the driveway of an empty house, aching for the one person I want to celebrate with. The one person who still isn’t home.
I turn off my car and once again, walk into an empty house. When I step into the kitchen, a giant sign on a poster board greets me. In glitter paint—oh, Racer—it reads, Congratulations, Emma! You’re done!
A soft smile plays over my lips from the gesture. Tucker hasn’t missed a beat since he first switched our rooms around. Whether it was ordering pizza for me one night, leaving notes around the house just so I can be connected to him, or sending a gift card to take out Logan and Adalyn for dinner to celebrate. He’s been there every step of the way, and yet, he hasn’t. I understand he has to be gone for work, but I just want him back. This distance is really placing a toll on my aching heart.
At the bottom of the poster, there’s an arrow pointing me in the direction of the hallway. I follow it to another arrow that points me toward the bathroom. When I get to the bathroom, one more arrow greets me and points me in the direction of the spare bedroom. The bedroom I’m not allowed to go into.
My heart rate picks up as I spot a card taped to the door. With a shaky and unsteady hand, I reach for it and read the front.
Open me.
I twist the card around, stick my finger in the envelope and tear it open. There is no card, just a letter written on hotel paper. Leaning against the wall, I sink down to the floor, needing some support, and read the letter.
Hey baby,
Congratulations on finishing up classes, you must be so proud of yourself. I know I am. If I haven’t said it before, I admire you and I’m damn fucking proud of you. Your soul was made to take care of people, and the world of medicine is lucky to have you. Just a few more da
ys and it will all be over. Your hard work will finally pay off.
As for me, I wanted to wait until you were done with school to open up to you one last time. What’s behind this door is a painful past, something that’s taken me a long time to understand, something that’s taken me even longer to accept.
But I’m ready. So when you are, open the door and take it all in.
Forever yours,
Tucker
With the letter close to my chest, I look over at the unopened door and wonder what’s behind it. I guess there’s only one way to find out.
Regretful that Tucker isn’t here to do this with me, I think about saving this moment until he’s home but change my mind. He laid this all out for me, he has a plan, and I should follow it. On shaky legs, I take a deep breath and open the door. It’s almost pitch black, so I feel around the wall for a light and when I hit a switch, my eyes adjust to the brightness, taking a second to observe what I’m seeing.
The walls are painted a pretty, neutral yellow, the floors are waxed and glistening under the single light in the room, and in the middle of it all is a vintage white crib. My heart seizes in my chest, the beat slowing to a snail’s pace, as an aching feeling turns me numb from the inside out.
A nursery.
He’s been hiding a nursery this entire time. Tears fall down my face, staining my cheeks as I walk over to the crib where another card rests. This one I open immediately while I sit on the ground, my legs feeling too weak to hold me up.
Hey baby,
Thank you for being brave and walking into his room without me. I’m sorry I can’t be there with you while you take this in, but I thought it was important for you to know all of me.
This is it. The last thing I’ve been holding back.
When I found out Sadie was pregnant, I tried to grasp anything to resurrect our failing relationship, so I bought this house with the hope of starting a family here. I spent a day painting this room and building this crib as a surprise. Unfortunately, I never got to show her when she was pregnant. As you know, we lost the baby, and we lost ourselves.