To Be Your Wife

by Rae Kennedy

  “Oh Tuck, yes.”

  He knows exactly what my body wants, what I need, and how I like it. Tuck owns my body and my heart.

  “You like that cock inside you?”

  “Yes.” I push back against his thrusts.

  “Fuck, I’m not going to last much longer.”

  I know he’s coming as he pushes faster, deeper. Guttural noises fill the cab.

  * * *

  Saturday I roll out of bed late. Well, late for me.

  “Morning sleepy-head,” Tuck says when I stroll to the living room still in his oversized T-shirt, my hair a disheveled mess.

  Tuck is in the kitchen pouring a cup of coffee and Haley is on the couch, watching television.

  “What do you want to do today?” he asks.

  “Hey, you’ve been monopolizing her time. I want Court all to myself today,” Haley says, smiling.

  “All day?” Tuck pouts and jokes with his sister, but with the look he shoots me it’s obvious he hates the idea.

  Turns out Haley has a hair appointment today so I join her. She’s decided she wants a change. She has the most gorgeous long, dark hair that falls in big loose natural curls and I—with my stick-straight hair—am so jealous of it. So, I do my best to be supportive when she says she wants to chop it off.

  “We haven’t had any girl time recently. You promised me vague details about you and Tuck, remember?” Haley says as she sits in the chair.

  The stylist, Tina, is swaying her hips to the upbeat music blasting through the overhead speakers, popping gum as she cuts at least a foot off Haley’s hair.

  With a deep breath, I tell her I’ve never had chemistry like this with anyone. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face when I tell her it’s the best sex of my life.

  “And it’s so hot how good he is at dirty talk.”

  “Okay, that’s detail-y enough,” she says, scrunching up her nose.

  “But it’s way more than the sex.”

  Tina chimes in encouraging me with, “Mmhmm, girl,” and, “Honey, yasss.”

  My cheeks heat when I tell them I accidentally told him I love him on Sunday. Haley’s eyes practically pop out of her face and she whips her head around to look at me so fast that Tina chastises her to sit still unless she wants her hair to look like a hot mess.

  “I know it’s way too soon,” I say. “But he said he loves me too.”

  Haley squeals.

  “Boy better have if he knows what’s good for him,” Tina says, clicking her tongue.

  “Yay! We’re going to be sisters!” Haley claps.

  When we are all done it’s been over three hours and Haley looks amazing. Her hair is in a long, blunt bob just above her shoulders with caramel balayage highlights that perfectly complement its natural wave and texture.

  “Do you love it? I think you look stunning,” I tell her.

  “Thank you. Yes, it’s exactly what I wanted and needed for tonight.”

  “What’s tonight?”

  “I have a date.”

  “Oh my god, tell me about it!”

  “It’s no big deal—just dinner with a guy from my summer class.” She chews on the inside of her cheek but I give her a big hug and insist she let me do her makeup and tell me all about it after.

  * * *

  Tuck and I are dozing on the couch watching a movie after dinner. Actually, Tuck is passed out and snoring a little. He made me his famous macaroni and cheese with hot dogs for dinner and I’m ashamed to say it wasn’t bad.

  Haley walks in the front door around eleven and I yawn as I scoot Tuck over so I can sit up.

  “How was it?” I ask.

  “It was good. He’s nice. I mean, it was fine. Everything was good. Nice.”

  “So he was nice?”

  “Yep.”

  “And there were no sparks?”

  “Nope.”

  “I’m sorry, Hale. Your hair still looks fabulous.”

  That puts a smile on her face. “Thanks. I mean, I don’t think I even want to date right now, anyway. You know me—I’d rather stay home on a Friday night with a book. Going out is exhausting. I do want to find someone eventually, but right now I’d rather focus on school and myself.”

  She looks entirely content at the thought and I am so proud of her. I smile and give her a big hug.

  “How about breakfast at the Bistro tomorrow? We can go early enough to beat the brunch rush?”

  “Sure, that sounds great.” She returns my smile and yawns. “Night.”

  “Night.”

  I look over to Tuck—he’s slumped over with his neck bent in what looks like a very uncomfortable position.

  “Come on, babe. Let’s go to bed.”

  He grunts but doesn’t move.

  “I’m going to get naked.”

  At that he stirs and sits up, blinking his eyes. I help him up and he leans against me as we walk to his bedroom.

  “Are you going to have my babies?” he asks.

  “What?”

  “’Cuz I want you to have my babies. Lots of them.” His words come out slightly slurred even though we haven’t had anything to drink. Is he sleep-talking?

  “Oh yeah? How many?”

  “I dunno. Like, five.”

  “Five? Wow.”

  We get in the room and he’s having a hard time unbuttoning his pants so I help him undress.

  “Are you going to take advantage of me now?” he asks, his eyes mostly closed as he stands in front of me in his boxers.

  “Do you want me to?” I slip out of my clothes and look for a clean T-shirt in his drawer.

  “How else am I going to put a baby in you?”

  I laugh quietly as I slip the shirt over my head but when I turn around Tuck is lying face-down on the bed, his snoring resumed.

  CHAPTER 21

  The turn for our long private drive comes too soon. How could the two-hour ride to Tuck’s house on Friday seem to take forever and the same drive home be over so quickly?

  My family’s farmhouse comes into view. Several cars and trucks are parked out front for Sunday supper—a sight that would normally bring me joy, but now only serves to remind me I have to say goodbye to Tuck and start another week without him.

  I might be getting sadder with each departure. We’ve only been doing this for three weeks and I already hate it. Is it always going to be like this? I mean, we can’t do this forever, right? How long until it’s no longer enough?

  “Court? Are you okay?” Tuck’s voice pulls me back, sitting in his truck where’s he’s just parked in front of my house.

  “Um, yeah. I’m fine.”

  “You looked pretty far off. What were you thinking about?”

  I let out a long breath. “I was thinking about how much I don’t want to say goodbye to you.”

  He gives me a half-grin and takes my hand, squeezing it. “Well, you don’t have to say bye quite yet. Come on.” He hops out of the truck and I follow.

  “Are you staying for dinner?”

  “Of course.”

  “My mom will be so happy.”

  “Oh, she knows. She asked what she should make.”

  “When was this?”

  He shrugs. “When you were out with Haley yesterday.” Then he wraps his arm around my shoulders, leans down and whispers, “She’s making meatloaf.”

  I sink into him, so happy to have him for a couple more hours. Minutes, seconds, I’ll take every single one I can with him.

  * * *

  My brothers and their families left over an hour ago. Gracie and Kyla left to go get ice cream cones in town even earlier. They didn’t say they were meeting boys there, but I remember being eighteen in the summer and the grins on their faces said it all.

  Tuck and my dad have been discussing the NBA finals for the last thirty minutes and the “shitty-ass” call the ref missed in the last game. They are firmly in agreement about the call and which team they are rooting for, but my dad is still red and agitated in the face
. Their voices are raised, hands flying across the table with the same passion of a heated argument.

  My mom walks past, Angus happily following on her heels, his nails clicking on the wood floor. Even before she’s in his line of sight, my dad twists his head to watch her walk toward the back door.

  Tuck turns and catches me staring at him. He flashes me a big smile.

  “Do you have to go soon?” I ask.

  His gaze flickers down before meeting my eyes again. “Yeah. Probably should.”

  “Will you come see something with me first?”

  * * *

  Tuck sweeps aside the overgrown vines from the front steps so we can get to the porch without being strangled or attacked by the shrubbery.

  The front door is boarded up as well as some of the front windows. We walk around the porch to the back. The backyard is full of knee-high grass and prickly weeds. It’s surrounded by thick trees—a spindly wooden fence darts in and out of the trunks before disappearing to the ground. There are a couple of unruly rose bushes as tall as I am, but despite the scary two-inch-long thorns spiking through the deep green leaves, there are dozens of pretty peach and pink blooms starting to bud.

  “This one’s open,” Tuck whispers as he motions me through the back door, its screen hanging in tatters.

  Inside, we appear to be in the kitchen. Dust hangs in the air, highlighted by the sunlight streaming in through the windows. There is a thick layer of light brown dirt on everything. It’s a large room but only a few cabinets on the wall. All the cabinet doors are either hanging by a hinge or missing altogether. There are no appliances but there is a huge cast iron farm sink in front of a window overlooking the yard.

  A narrow staircase in the corner leads from the kitchen to the upper floor, but we walk forward, leaving footprints in the dust on the hardwood.

  We pass by a butler’s pantry and then into the formal dining room.

  “Wow,” Tuck says as he runs his hand along the fireplace mantle. The charming fireplace is flanked by built-in china cabinets and there are two dark walnut-stained tapered columns separating this room from the next room. I can’t help but gawk at the beautifully detailed coffered ceiling.

  We walk through to the living room where there is another wood-burning fireplace. There is a little bench seat built into the front bay window, which is huge and reaches almost to the top of the ten-foot ceiling, but a large bush blocks any light or view it has to offer.

  Off the living room is the two-story foyer with a grand staircase built out of the same rich, dark wood. I want to touch the soft curves of the intricately carved stair banister.

  “This is beautiful.”

  “Yeah,” Tuck agrees. “They don’t build houses like this anymore.”

  “I’m going to look upstairs.” I don’t know why I’m whispering.

  “Okay, I’ll be right behind you,” Tuck says, but he’s looking into the room off the foyer.

  Upstairs are six bedrooms and two tiny, dingy bathrooms. Most of the bedrooms are moderate in size with thick crown molding and peeling wallpaper but a couple of them are so small they would better suited as large closets.

  The room at the front of the house is spacious—more accurately, it is three separate chambers all connected. The first is the biggest and has another beautiful brick fireplace and large bay window. The next room is a large sitting room. Mauve wallpaper covers the walls with a swirling floral motif that is sun-bleached and faded. The next little room is part of the circular turret with windows all around. It has a spectacular view of the soft green hills in the distance past the lights of the tiny downtown. Definitely no prisoners or scary stuff in here—just quiet and peace.

  When I head downstairs Tuck is still in the den off the foyer. I look past the large glass French doors—most of the actual glass is missing or broken—where he is standing in the center of the room. The sun is low in the sky and the warm orange glow from outside kisses his angular face in a way that makes me want to stop and stare. In the room, there is another fireplace surrounded by floor-to-ceiling wood bookshelves. He’s staring off into the distance, his eyes unfocused.

  A quiet buzz sounds and pulls Tuck out of his trance. He takes his phone out of his pocket and immediately silences it. He looks at the screen for several seconds before returning it to his pocket. When he turns around, there is a little furrow in his brow, but it smooths out quickly.

  “Hey,” I say as I join him.

  “Hey. Sorry I didn’t follow you—I was just...thinking.”

  “What about?”

  “This house is beautiful. I love it.”

  “Me too. It’s a shame they’re tearing it down.” I think of how many families lived in this house. How many children were raised here in the more than a hundred years since it was built. How many little feet ran through the halls or laughed in the yard. How many home-cooked meals were made and eaten.

  “You should buy it.” Tuck looks at me, completely serious.

  “What? I can’t buy this house.”

  “Why not? You said they were basically asking for the price of the land, right? It would take a lot of work to be livable, but as long as you’re not in a hurry, I think it’d be a good investment.”

  “You really think I should buy this house?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s a pretty big thing. A pretty permanent thing.”

  Tuck just nods and keeps looking around the room, touching the little dental details carved into the mantel.

  “There isn’t any reason you can think of why I shouldn’t buy this house?” Any house? In this town? When you own one in another? But I can’t say all those things I’m thinking.

  “No.”

  * * *

  “I think I’ll call the bank first thing in the morning,” I say on the way back to my parents’ house.

  “Good.” Tuck smiles as he says it, that far-off look still in his eyes as he drives. Apparently he has no reservations about what it might mean for our future.

  Our future.

  I guess we haven’t discussed the future. It’s too soon for that, right? He has only said he would do anything to make our relationship work, despite the distance. Maybe the distance doesn’t bother him.

  As we near the end of the drive, the sour feeling writhes in my stomach as I think about watching him drive away again.

  My parents are on the front porch, holding hands as they swing. They’re not talking but smiling as they watch the sunset.

  Tuck walks me to the door and my mom hops up, clasping her hands.

  “Tucker, I’m so glad you haven’t left yet. Stay right there!” She steals into the house, the front door banging closed behind her.

  She returns in a minute with a large covered bowl. She hands it to Tuck, beaming.

  “I made you some potato salad.”

  Tuck’s jaw drops. “Beverly, wow. Thank you so much.” He pulls her into a hug with one arm while cradling the potato salad in the other. “This is amazing.”

  “Oh, it was nothing.” She waves it off but is still grinning ridiculously wide as she and my dad go back in the house.

  “I’ll see you this weekend, yeah?”

  “Yes,” I say, but my voice comes out weak.

  He tips my chin up to meet his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  Would saying I don’t want him to go, like, ever, be too needy? Would asking him to define what we are and what we’re doing be too demanding? Would telling him that if we are only ever going to be long distance we might as well end it now before he makes me fall even more in love with him be crazy?

  I can’t say any of it.

  “Nothing. I just don’t know if my car will be fixed by then.”

  He smiles. “If it’s not, I’ll come get you. Always. Love you.”

  I say “Love you too” as he presses his lips to mine. But too soon he is breaking away, turning around and waving goodbye as he gets in his truck. I watch his taillights disappear down the road and I know it�
��s not going to get easier.

  * * *

  “The bank accepted your offer.”

  Those words are at once exhilarating and stifling.

  Uncle Mick was right. The bank was eager to cut their losses and now I am closing on the Harrington house on the first of July. That is in only a few weeks. Tuck congratulated me on the phone, no signs of concern in his voice, just genuine happiness and support. My dad and brothers are already discussing what projects they’re going to help tackle first.

  After dinner Thursday night, I’m standing at the sink, looking out the window, scrubbing the sudsy water over the same plate I’ve been holding for the last five minutes. It’s just before sunset but the sun is hidden behind ominous gray clouds casting everything in shadow. Out beyond the hills, the sky melts into a dark blue and charcoal mist.

  “Hey, sweetie.”

  I jump as my dad’s low voice comes from my left.

  He looks out at the sky with me. “Supposed to rain and thunderstorm starting later tonight and all day tomorrow. Won’t be much sense in having you work tomorrow. How about you go visit that young man of yours early?”

  “Really?” Dad is such a stickler about working, rain or shine, day in, day out.

  “Yeah, I know your Jeep is still in the shop. Why don’t you take my truck tonight? Try to get out before the storm hits? I won’t need it this weekend.”

  * * *

  After packing and the drive, it’s late when I arrive at Tuck’s. He still keeps a key under the fucking flowerpot.

  The house is dark and filled with only the soft sounds of sleep. Tuck is sprawled across his bed, his chest rising slowly as he snores quietly. I slip out of my clothes, leaving everything in a puddle on the floor to slide in next to him.

  He’s hot under the sheet and I curve my naked body up to him, trying to touch as much of his skin with mine as I can. When I reach across his broad body he rolls toward me, a contented hum reverberates from his chest. He entwines his legs with mine and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me tight to him. He lies on my chest, his head just under my chin, nuzzling at my neck and I love being wrapped up in Tuck’s big, strong body like this.

  A crack sounds in the distance followed by a low rolling rumble of thunder.