by Rae Kennedy
I don’t bring up Cade and she never mentions Tuck.
On Saturday, we go through the small trove of dresses I brought with me, trying several on before deciding on the perfect outfits to wear. I put on the necklace Tuck gave to me. It’s beautiful and goes perfectly with the neckline of this dress. But then I take it off.
Haley lets me do her hair and makeup. She is like a beautiful little doll with her big brown eyes and heart-shaped face.
I put the necklace back on.
I can objectively say we both look stunning as we head to the city in my Jeep. She’s trying to play it cool, but I can tell Haley is anxious about tonight, and especially about the prize money.
* * *
“How’d I get so lucky?” Nick has each of us on one of his arms as we walk around the gallery looking at all the pieces. We comment on the art and Nick comments on how beautiful we look. Haley laughs off his suggestion of a threesome later but I know he would seriously back up that offer if accepted.
“This one is mine,” Haley says quietly when we get to a photograph of an elderly woman.
It’s black and white in a large white mat. The woman appears to be in a kitchen, shaking a wooden stick at the photographer, but she’s smiling. Bright light comes in through a window next to her and it kisses her face, detailing every wrinkle—the laugh lines around her mouth and the crinkles around her eyes. Her short white and gray curls are glowing wisps around her crown. Her eyes shine with liveliness—they remind me of the picture of Haley and Tuck’s dad on their refrigerator and how I could tell how much he laughed from just that one glimpse.
She’s wearing an apron and on the counter next to her are spent eggshells, measuring cups, and a mixing bowl full of batter. Flour dusts around the edges of the bowl and on the woman’s hands, even under her fingernails.
The picture is titled: Birthday Cake.
“Is this your grandmother?” I ask her.
“Yes,” Haley says, smiling at the photo.
I know their mother lives far enough away they hardly see her, but their grandmother—their dad’s mom—lives closer, enough they visit her much more often. I wish I had met her when Tuck and I were together.
“I’m going to get another glass of wine. You guys want anything?” Haley asks before heading to the table of hors d’oeuvres. I don’t think the multiple glasses of wine are helping her nerves.
“Get me some of these little crab things,” Nick calls after her. “How are things with you?” he asks me, taking a bite of the last “little-crab-thing” on his plate.
“Good. Things are good. No, great. I’m only slightly terrified for school to start on Monday, mostly excited. My house looks great, but I can’t live in it yet, so I’m still living at my parents’ house.” I shrug. “What about you?”
“Ugh. I’m pretty sure my landlord found out about Gilbert and I’m going to get evicted. And if that happens, I’ll probably have to stay with my uncle until I find a new place and that would suck because then I really can’t quit my job. Could I live with your parents too?”
“You want to quit your job?”
“Yes. Hate it.” Nick glances over my shoulder—I assume to check if Haley is returning with more crab-thingies for him—when his face goes slack. “Oh, shit.”
I turn—Haley is at the food table behind me, an excited expression on her face. She opens her arms and a very tall guy with dark hair and broad shoulders in a suit walks quickly to her and scoops her up in a hug. His back is to me but it doesn’t matter.
When Tuck puts her down, she smiles up at him but then she turns to where Nick and I are standing and her smile turns tight, her eyes wide with her own “oh shit” realization. Tuck’s posture changes, he tilts his head and then turns to follow her gaze. From across the room, Tuck’s eyes lock instantly onto mine.
CHAPTER 26
I haven’t seen him since the night he kissed each of my tear-stained cheeks and said goodbye, leaving me on the porch swing where I stayed staring down the road until the sun came up.
“Hey,” he says as he and Haley walk up to us.
His hands are in his pockets. He’s had a haircut since I saw him last and he looks good in his suit. His black-tie lays flat against his pressed white shirt and I follow it up to his thick neck and angular jaw. I can’t help but remember how it felt to nuzzle my face there, how that skin smells, feels, tastes...
“Hi,” I say, trying hard to look directly into his pretty green eyes, but failing.
“Oh my god, Tucker! Haven’t seen you in so long. Have you tried these little crabby-cake things? And there’s an open bar. Let’s go get some.” Nick drags Tuck away and I realize my hands are cold and clammy.
“Court, I’m so sorry. I swear he said he had an important dinner tonight with some clients from Japan he couldn’t get out of. Well, apparently it ended early enough he decided to stop by.”
“It’s all right. I’m glad he was able to come support you. Um—” I scan the room, looking past where Nick and Tuck are talking.
Haley regards me warily.
“She’s not here,” she says, reading my mind. “She’s not feeling well. It’s been a rough pregnancy.”
“Oh.”
Tuck and Nick are coming back toward us. Nick is telling Tuck about the gym he goes to and how they should meet up and play some ball together. But the conversation sort of dies down when they reach us and we stand in uncomfortable silence for several minutes. Nick eats the rest of the crab cakes he managed to pile on his cocktail napkin and Haley gulps down the rest of her wine.
Thankfully, a gentleman with white hair wearing a black turtleneck announces it’s time to name the winners. People come in from around corners and all different directions of the gallery, meandering nearer to the end of the room we are in to hear. The influx of bodies forces us to huddle closer together. Tuck is right next to me and I try not to let my arm brush his. He’s close enough I can feel his body warmth and smell his cologne.
He leans in closer to me. “How are you?”
A perfectly polite, boring question. But when I look up at him and our eyes meet, his are searching mine as if looking for the answer to, “How are you really doing?”
But he already knows the answer: lonely, empty, heartbroken. They are the same words I see in his eyes.
“Good,” I say. “You?”
“Yeah.”
A large man walks by me, pushing through the crowd. Tuck instinctively places his hand on my lower back and turns me so I am out of the man’s path. This also turns my body toward his so we are almost chest-to-chest. It takes a moment for the realization of how close we are to dawn on Tuck’s face and his hand is off me in an instant.
We stand awkwardly next to each other throughout the announcing of the winners. I try not to accidentally touch him, but there are so many people, it’s impossible.
“Third place in photography goes to...Haley Collison with Birthday Cake.”
Haley looks shocked but elated. Third place isn’t a big cash prize winner but we all give her tight hugs—which she doesn’t even gripe about—and tell her how happy and proud of her we are.
“We need to celebrate!” Nick says. He looks from Haley to me and Tuck. “We all need some shots.”
Truer words have never been spoken.
* * *
Nick slams the shot glasses down in front of us. They are some sort of fancy shot with a catchy name and are translucent yellow on top, bright red in the middle, and a dark muddy brown on the bottom.
“No thanks, I’m just going to have this one beer. I’m driving,” Tuck says.
I can tell Nick wants to argue with him, but Tuck’s stoic expression and stern tone clearly project his “don’t fucking try it” demeanor.
“More for me,” I say as I slide the one in front of Tuck over to me.
I down it quickly. It’s sweet at first and then burns. Definitely rum. Not my preferred liquor, but right now, it’ll do.
I throw back the
second one and Haley and Nick both whoop and holler at me before taking their shots. A dark look crosses Tuck’s face.
“How are you two getting home?” he asks, looking between Haley and me.
“My apartment is just around the corner from here. Why do you think I suggested it? They can stay at my place tonight,” Nick says, oblivious to how much Tuck does not like that plan.
The little restaurant is packed and loud. There are groups of young hipsters playing bar games in the corner. Big, burly men with leather vests, bald heads, and tattooed arms sit at the bar and professionals in suits eat dinner at the booths.
“Hey, looks like there’s a shuffleboard table open. Let’s go play.” Nick motions us to follow.
“I don’t know how to play shuffleboard,” Haley says.
“Perfect. I’ll teach you.”
Nick and Haley wander over to the open table happily. I glance at Tuck, who is really nursing that beer. When his eyes briefly meet mine, I give him a small smile. He returns with his own small smile and I wonder if mine looked as sad as his.
“Should we go join them?” I don’t think I can sit here alone with him.
He takes a sip of his beer, regarding me thoughtfully.
“C’mon. I think you need an even number for that game and I want to play.”
He begrudgingly agrees and follows me into the crowd with his beer in hand. “No pouting when you lose, though.”
I turn and scoff at him. “I don’t pout.”
“Sure.” And that might be the first real smile of the evening.
Tuck and Haley play against Nick and me. They win. I blame Tuck’s unnaturally absurd coordination and Haley’s beginner’s luck. I don’t pout.
We get more drinks.
We talk.
We laugh.
Tuck’s boisterous throaty chuckle is at once the most magical and gut-wrenching sound to my ears.
“Are you guys hungry? I’m starving,” Haley says, swaying a little bit as she sips on her straw.
Nick nods in agreement so we find a table and I track down a server so we can order some food. I think the table is only meant to sit two but we drag a couple more chairs over and all squeeze in around it nice and cozy.
Tuck looks at his watch. “I can’t stay much longer, but can I buy you guys your next round?”
Nick’s “Fuck yeah!” is enthusiastic enough for everyone.
Tuck waves down our server—a young brunette named Mila with sharp eyebrows—who also appears to be the only server working the floor tonight. Nick orders another Mai Tai, Haley says she just wants water, and then Tuck looks at me. “Tequila shot with lime?” he asks.
“Yes.”
When Mila hands me my shot and the scent of tequila wafts toward me I am hit with the memories of the last time I drank tequila. The last weekend at Tuck’s house when we danced in his living room. When he told me he was going to keep me forever.
The shot scorches my throat more than usual on the way down but thankfully my thoughts are sidelined when our food arrives.
Nick got the pork street tacos. Haley has a big order of chicken strips and fries. Tuck’s plate is overflowing with loaded nachos, dripping with cheese and sour cream. I have a basket of chicken wings. They are covered in a sticky sauce that’s both sweet and spicy with a blue cheese ranch dip on the side. The table is so small our plates clink together as we eat. We all bump elbows and talk with our mouths full as we lick our fingers clean.
My arm and Tuck’s are touching from elbow to shoulder and I try to ignore it, but his skin is firm and warm and he smells so good I think I’m leaning into him a bit. I should stop drinking.
“Those look good,” Tuck says as he reaches across his plate and grabs one of my wings.
“Tucker!”
But he already has the wing half-eaten with a barbeque sauce-covered smile on his face.
“Damn, that was delicious,” he says as he leans over to look at my plate again.
This time when he reaches to take one I smack his hand away. “These are mine. Get your own!”
He’s not deterred. “Hey, don’t think I haven’t noticed you ogling my nachos. You can have some. C’mon. We always used to share.”
Yes. We used to.
The prickle in my throat comes with stinging in my eyes. I clear my throat and feign a cough because I am definitely not about to cry. I take a sip of water and close my eyes, willing the feeling to go away. But it doesn’t.
“You know what, guys. I’m not feeling great. I think I’m going to go get a little fresh air.”
I walk quickly toward the front doors. As soon as I’m on the street, I close my eyes and try to take deep breaths. The air is warm but there is a faint breeze. Cars whoosh by. The air smells faintly of cigarette smoke. I’m not going to cry. I am fine. I am not going to cry.
“Court?”
I turn toward the soft voice—Haley is next to me.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I force myself to hold a big smile and not to blink even as the tears well up.
“We can leave whenever you want.”
“No, this is your night. We can stay out as long as you want. I’ll be in in just a couple minutes.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yep.” I nod reassuringly. The big, fake smile still plastered on my face.
As soon as she goes back inside the dam breaks and the tears spill. Dammit. I am not crying.
I give in to the breakdown for a few minutes then wipe my eyes and stand up straight. The breeze feels good as it dries my lashes.
I must have stayed out longer than a few minutes because just as I turn to head back in the restaurant, Tuck comes out. He spots me instantly and comes to me, putting his hand on my shoulder.
“Are you okay? I didn’t think you’d had that much to drink.”
“I’m fine. Let’s go back inside.” I show him the same wide grin I’d given Haley and start to move to the doors.
But he looks into my eyes, knowing. “You’re not fine.”
“Of course I’m not fine!”
He steps back, blinking. “I’m sorry. I should have left after the show.” He runs his hand through his hair roughly. “I don’t know how to make this better.”
I look at him standing there in his suit, tie loosened, top buttons down, and he looks about as lost as I feel. I’m touching the heart-shaped diamond at my chest and I want to wrap my arms around him. I need him and I know he needs me. There’s only one way to fix this.
“Be with me,” I say.
“What?”
I’m as startled by my bold words as he is, and I don’t know if it’s the tequila talking, but I go on. This might be my last chance. To fight for him.
“Choose me. Marry me, not her.”
“Court”—he shakes his head—“it’s too—”
“No. You once said you’d go to the end of the Earth to make us work. I want to do that for you—for us. I’ll do anything. I’ll quit my job. I’ll move to the city. We can find a place to live close to Ali. We can co-parent the baby. I will love it like my own because it’s part of you. And I love you.”
“Court, I can’t do this. And you’re drunk.”
“What does that matter? It doesn’t change how I feel.”
He looks at me, jaw set, no emotion on his face. My chest hollows out. My skin feels tight. And hot. I’m too warm. My heart pounds and a cold drip of dread trickles down my spine.
“Do you still love me?” My voice cracks.
“Court, please don’t.”
“Don’t what?” My vision blurs.
His mouth is tight, downturned, but his brows are knitted, eyes pleading. “Please don’t make me say it.”
“I need you to say it,” I choke out.
“Fuck. You want me to say I still love you? Fine. I still love you. You want me to say I still want you? I do. You’re the only one I want. I wish you were the one carrying my baby and I wish you were the one I pu
t that ring on.” His eyes are shiny. “Is that what you want to hear?”
Tears are spilling down my cheeks but I try to stifle the sobs in my chest.
“But it doesn’t matter what I wish.” He takes a breath, his chest still heaving, his face red, and stills himself, putting a calm mask back on. “It doesn’t change the fact that she is the one carrying my baby and she is the one wearing my ring.”
“It’s not too late—”
“She’s my wife.”
His words hit me like a freight train and I can only stare at him, dumbstruck.
“We haven’t told anyone yet. But we went to the courthouse a couple weeks ago.”
I stare at him, frozen in place. He stares back at me also unmoving, his stance one you might make around a startled horse. Then I realize I’m not frozen, I’m shaking.
Music starts playing close by. It’s quite loud, actually.
“Court—your phone.”
“Wha—” The music is coming from my purse and then I realize it’s my phone. I’m so flustered with myself, instead of silencing it like I normally would when having an important conversation, I pull it out and answer it without even checking who it is.
“Court—”
“Eric?”
“It’s Dad.”
CHAPTER 27
I squeeze my hands in my lap, twisting my fingers together so tight they go white. I just need to get there but we are barely moving. Every time we stop at a red light or wait for a slow-moving pedestrian to cross the street I want to scream. Tuck glances at me from the driver’s seat every few minutes with equal parts concern and distress on his face. Haley is in the backseat. We are all silent.
Eric and my dad had been traveling with a shipment of cattle in the neighboring county when it happened. Eric was frantic on the phone, his words a confusing jumble. All I know is they rushed Dad to a hospital here in the city and then immediately into surgery. They think it was a heart attack.
When I finally push through the doors to the waiting room, Eric is pacing the floor. His hair is a mess, as if he’s been dragging his hands through it. His skin is red and blotchy. I rush to him and he looks simultaneously relieved and about to break down. Another wave of tears hits as we hug one another.