“Hell, yeah, it is,” he says firmly.
“I don’t have anyone telling me what to do. Well, I do have the occasional bridezilla,” I add, making him smile. “But they’re fine. I know how to handle them.”
“Because you’re awesome,” he says.
“Right.” I’m smiling. I feel giddy. Light as air. “Because I’m awesome.”
“You know what’s my one regret?” he asks, swiftly changing the subject.
My smile fades. He looks so serious. And sincere. Terribly, horribly sincere. “What?” I whisper.
“That I broke up with you. That I gave up so easily on us.” He blinks, appearing startled by his admission, and I secretly love that. He’s leaving himself open to me. Raw and vulnerable. “That’s my one regret over anything else, Maise. If I could go back in time and correct that mistake, I wouldn’t even hesitate. Just to see where our lives would’ve taken us. Aren’t you curious?”
“Curious about what?” I’m still whispering. This moment is…reverent. As if we’re in church, confessing our secrets. Our sins.
And asking each other for forgiveness.
“What would’ve happened to us if we’d stayed together?” He reaches across the table and takes my hand, his thumb stroking across the top of it, making me shiver with awareness. God, I love it when he touches me.
I always have.
“I—I never gave it much thought,” I say, my words stalling in my throat, and his lips curve in that knowing smile of his.
As in, he knows I’m full of crap.
“Really?” He lifts my hand and brings it to his lips, but he doesn’t kiss me. He just holds my hand there, so I can feel his warm breath, his damp lips. “I don’t believe you.”
“I mean, fine. Yes, I thought about you when we first broke up and if we’re being truthful tonight, I can admit that I was totally devastated.” The pain that crosses his face at my words is worth the admission. “But after a while, I just…”
“You just what?”
“Gave up thinking about you,” I say with a shrug. “Like you gave up on me.”
Chapter Eight
Tucker
Maisey’s words hang in the air, hover over the table, and I’m about to respond when our server chooses that moment to deliver our dinner. I drop Maisey’s hand and smile up at the server as she sets our plates in front of us. When she finishes, she’s gone in an instant, off to take care of another table.
“Looks delicious,” Maisey says as she takes in her steak and baked potato.
The lack of emotion in her voice is obvious.
“Yeah, it does,” I agree, though my appetite has left me.
I hate that she thinks I gave up on her. That wasn’t the reason for the break up. I just believed…
Shit. I don’t know what exactly I believed. I was eighteen and stupid. Headed for Texas A&M—my dream school—on a football scholarship. I felt like I was finally going places, that my life was going to take me on a different track.
And I didn’t want Maisey sitting at home waiting for me, lonely and sad. I didn’t want to hold her back. She deserved to be free.
So I cut her loose, believing the entire time that I was doing her a favor.
Instead, now I’m starting to think I just made the both of us miserable.
“I was an idiot for ending things,” I say just as she starts cutting into her steak.
The knife she’s holding clatters on her plate as she stares at me. “What did you just say?”
“I was an idiot,” I repeat, hoping she realizes how fucking real I’m being with her right now. “I should’ve never broken up with you.”
“Okay.” She draws the word out, and I know she doesn’t believe me. “But you still did it.”
“I know. And that was stupid. I was eighteen, and so fucking dumb.” I shake my head, never taking my eyes off her. I hope she knows. I hope she realizes every single word I’m saying is the absolute truth. “I hate that I hurt you.”
“It was a long time ago—” she starts but I cut her off.
“Doesn’t matter. I still hurt you, and it still hurts me, that I gave up on what we had. That I ruined it.” Having her sitting across from me, beautiful and sweet and in pain, I know without a doubt she’s the woman I’ve been looking for all my life.
Yet I threw her away.
“You didn’t ruin anything. We probably wouldn’t have lasted anyway,” she says, so very matter of fact.
“But what if we had? We could still be together.”
“Okay, so I’d be living with you in San Francisco and doing…what? Having your babies?”
The idea of her pregnant with my baby fills me with some unfamiliar, primal need. I’d like to see her body ripe with my child.
“I would’ve never become the independent businesswoman you just told me you admired,” she continues.
True.
“We had to take our separate paths to become who we are today, right?” Her smile is genuine, though her eyes are still a little sad. “And that’s okay. I’m happy with who I am. Aren’t you happy?”
“I am.” But I bet I’d be happier if she was back in my life.
For good.
* * * *
We leave the restaurant and the sun is long gone, the air carrying a slight chill. It’s still early summer; we’re not even midway through June but we haven’t been hit with a brutal heat wave yet. I’m not surprised then when I catch Maisey shivering.
Perfect excuse for me to sling my arm around her shoulders and tuck her in close to me. “You look cold,” I tell her, my mouth hovering close to her temple. I take a sniff, catching the floral scent of her shampoo, and my body goes on high alert.
I want her. No surprise.
“A little,” she admits, snuggling in closer as we walk together toward my car. “Summer will be upon us soon enough. I bet by the Fourth of July I’ll be complaining about how hot it is.”
“Summer will be here officially next week,” I remind her, surprised that I even know this.
“And wedding season is in full swing.” She smiles up at me. “I’ve got one wedding this weekend, but next weekend is going to be insane, what with the two weddings and a 40th anniversary party.”
“About that.” I stop walking and so does she. “You’re coming to my parents’ party, right?”
“Oh. I didn’t think I was invited.” She blinks those big brown eyes up at me, and I’m tempted to devour her where she stands.
But I restrain myself.
“You’re definitely invited,” I say fiercely. “Plus it’s a costume party.”
She starts to laugh. “You got everyone to go along with that idea?”
“Yeah, when I told Georgia about the cake design and I suggested costumes, she totally went for it. We’re all supposed to dress like we’re in The Great Gatsby movie. The DiCaprio version,” I explain to her as we start walking again.
Now Maisey is full blown laughing. “Oh, that ought to be funny, seeing you in your twenties’ gear.”
“Are you making fun of me?” I nudge her side.
“Maybe.” She nudges me back. “Where am I going to find a costume? I don’t have much time.”
“You have over a week. And Amazon is an amazing thing,” I suggest.
“Hmm. I do have a Prime membership,” she says, pursing her lips. “Think I could find a costume there?”
“I know you can.” That’s where I already found mine.
“I’ll have to check it out.”
We come to a stop at my rental car and I reluctantly remove my arm from around her shoulders so I can open the door for her. “Will you be my date?”
She whirls around, frowning at me. “Date for what?”
“The anniversary party.” I smile, suddenly feeling nervous. Like I’m a teenage kid again, asking my favorite girl to prom. “My parents would probably love that. To see us back together again.”
I say the words and I can see the flicker of emotion in he
r gaze, the creases in her forehead as she frowns. Maybe I pushed too hard. I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t assume anything. I’m walking on thin ice here.
And I don’t want to screw this up. Not again.
“I’m sure they would,” she murmurs just before she slides into the passenger seat. “Can I think about it? Before I give you my answer?”
My heart drops in my gut. There goes my chance at a goodnight kiss. “Sure,” I say easily, just before I slam her car door. “Think about it all you want,” I mutter under my breath. “You know where to find me.”
Chapter Nine
Maisey
“…and so then I asked him if I could think about it first. Before I give him my answer,” I finish, waiting for my older sister’s reaction.
By the way she’s gaping at me like I’ve just lost my mind, it’s not a good one.
“He asked you to be his date at his parents’ anniversary party, and you asked him if you could think about it first?” she asks incredulously.
We’re at her flower shop, since we just met with a potential client looking for flowers and the cake for her wedding. It’s such a bonus that we’re a one-stop shop for both, but now our future client is gone and Brooke is being her usual self.
An interrogator.
I nod at her question, hating the dread that is filling me, making my stomach churn. “I shouldn’t have said that?” I ask weakly.
“Uh, no.” She’s shaking her head, her disappointment clear. “Maise, it’s Tucker. Your first love. Hell, I consider him your only love.”
“Oh please. I can find more love. He’s not the only fish in the sea,” I remind her. God, I sound like our mother with that fish in the sea nonsense.
“Yeah, but for some reason, he seems to be the only fish for you,” she stresses. “You haven’t dated many guys beyond Tucker.”
“I’ve dated lots of guys.” I raise my chin, going for indignant, knowing deep down I’m exaggerated.
I’ve gone out with a few guys. Not what I would consider “lots.”
“That’s the key word. Dated. Nothing’s ever stuck. Like, ever,” Brooke says. “And I don’t know if I’d use the word lots either, sister.” I swear to God she’s a mind reader. “More like…a few.”
Damn it, she’s right. About everything. Not that I’m going to admit it. “It doesn’t matter,” I say, waving a hand. “He’s here temporarily. Soon he’ll go back home to California and forget all about me.”
“I thought a certain someone would go back home to California and forget all about me too, but that so didn’t happen.” Brooke holds up her hand and waves her fingers, her diamond engagement ring catching the light and nearly blinding me. “I think Tucker’s realizing what he gave up. And I’m guessing he’s interested in giving you another try.”
I seriously hate how she just phrased that. “Maybe I’m not interested in giving him another try,” I mutter, dropping my head so I can gaze at my hands, which are currently twisted together in my lap. Something I always do when I’m nervous.
“Then you should tell him,” Brooke says, her voice firm. “Don’t lead him on if you’re not interested.”
“Who said anything about Tucker wanting to give this—us—another try? Maybe he’s just in it for a fling! He’s probably just curious. See if there’s still a spark between us or whatever,” I say with a dismissive wave of my hand.
“Are you curious to see if there’s still a spark?” Brooke asks cautiously.
Yes. I already know there’s a spark. The energy crackles between us when we’re together. And when we touch? It’s like an electric shock every time he puts his hands on me. Imagine if he kissed me again. Actually…stripped me naked and did all of those wicked things I used to imagine when we were younger and I had no clue what to do.
I swallow hard and lift my head, my gaze locking with Brooke’s. “There’s still a spark.”
Her smug smile is annoying.
“Of course, there’s a spark,” I say irritably. “We always had chemistry. Isn’t that normal?”
“No, not really.”
I think of Brooke’s words the entire way home. It’s not normal for a couple who were together as teens to still have chemistry. I guess I should know that. A relationship, especially one in high school, usually runs its course. As in, when it’s over, it’s over.
And teenage relationships usually end spectacularly. Dramatically.
There was no drama between Tucker and me. Everything was fine until he got that letter of acceptance from his dream college. He started to withdraw, but I figured it was just…senior blues or something. Knowing that in a few short months, he’d be thrust out into the world all on his own.
I know the thought terrified me.
But then one day, he came to school, pulled me aside, and gently broke up with me. He didn’t even seem that upset. No, more like he was quiet, emotionless. He apologized, swore it had nothing to do with me.
It was all on him.
I’ve had a pretty decent life so far. No major catastrophes. No horrible losses. There have been a few hurdles as my business has grown, but nothing I can’t eventually tackle. I consider myself lucky. Blessed.
The worst thing that’s ever happened to me so far is Tucker ending our relationship. While he gave his reasons, it still felt abrupt.
I had no closure. One moment he was there, and the next he was gone. Vanished. Out of my life for good. I didn’t even go to the graduation ceremony that year, and I hadn’t missed one of those since my eighth grade year. But I couldn’t bear the thought of watching him receive his diploma, seeing him celebrate with his family and friends, knowing that he would soon leave Cunningham Falls forever.
It hurt too much.
Did he feel the same? Was the end of our relationship the worst thing he ever experienced? He’s led a fuller life than me, only because of his experiences. And he said he had regret over breaking up with me. He actually said if he could go back and change that moment, he would without hesitation. That threw me, because I’ve often wondered what would’ve happened if we’d stayed together.
Then he goes and says the same thing.
Why, after all these years, does he walk back into my life and turn it completely upside down? Am I giving him too much power? Or did he have that power all along?
Maybe he’s just looking for closure.
Maybe I’m just looking for closure too.
I’m tempted to bang my head against the steering wheel. It’s all so freaking confusing. I don’t know how I feel about Tucker. Worse, I don’t know how I should feel.
All I know is that I still enjoy spending time with him. I want to see him again. Yes, I’m curious. Yes, maybe I’m looking for closure.
And maybe I’m looking for the chance to kiss him one more time. Just to see if it’s as good as I remembered.
I’m entering the kitchen from the garage, setting my purse on the counter when I receive a text. No surprise, it’s from Tucker. I must admit that I get a tiny thrill seeing his name flash on my phone screen.
You’re leaving me hanging :)
Smiling, I try to come up with the proper, flirtatious response. Because screw it. I’m going to flirt with Tucker. I’m going to spend as much time with him as possible before he leaves for California. I can keep my heart out of this, right? Just two old friends rekindling the fun part of their relationship.
I accept your invitation, is what I finally settle on saying.
He responds without hesitation.
Better round up a proper costume. Gatsby themed, don’t forget.
I’m still smiling when I send him my reply.
How could I forget? Can’t wait!
Then I proceed to search the web for a sexy Gatsby costume for the rest of the evening.
Chapter Ten
Tucker
I convinced Hunter to let me use his boat, and this is how I end up torturing myself on a sunny Thursday with Maisey.
She’s wea
ring a bikini.
It’s red.
And tiny.
It shows off every curve she’s got, and she’s got plenty. The swell of her breasts, her flaring hips, her perfect ass. Long legs and sexy shoulders and with her dark hair up in that high ponytail, I catch glimpses of her kissable neck all afternoon as we cruise around the lake and that’s all I can think about.
Kissing that neck.
Sliding my hand inside the scrap of red fabric to see if her nipples are hard.
Or sliding my hand into the back of her bikini bottoms so I can cup that perfect ass.
Better yet, sliding my hand into the front of her bikini bottoms so I can dip my fingers—
“Holy shit!” I scream when Maisey splashes cold water in my face.
Yeah. I screamed like a little baby just now when she splashed me, but holy hell that water is freezing. My face and chest are currently dripping with snow melt straight off the mountain and despite the intense afternoon sun beating down on me, I’m shivering.
Her laughter rings, warming me up from the inside. I always did like her laugh. She doesn’t hold back, just lets it rip, and despite the goosebumps and the water dripping from the tip of my nose, I’m smiling.
“Gotcha,” she says, flicking her fingers at me, raining little droplets of water all over my arm, a silly grin on her face.
We’re near the shoreline, the motor off and the boat rocking gently with the waves created by the water skiers nearby. The lake isn’t so crowded with tourists since we’re still early in the season but after July Fourth, the water will be packed until Labor Day.
Meaning we picked a perfect day to be on the lake.
I’m beginning to realize that any day spent with this woman is perfect.
Eyeing Maisey, my gaze lingers on the way her body is still draped over the edge of the boat. That’s how she was able to splash me with water. How I didn’t notice her dangling over the edge is beyond me.
All I can do now is stare at her ass, the way the rounded cheeks peek out a little, tempting me to smack her right there. Just a light smack, to shock her, make her yelp. What would she do? Would she hate it?
Nothing Without You Page 5