Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 104288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Makes me wonder exactly when she left. Did Tuck have to take care of newborn Katie totally on his own from day one? If that’s the case, no wonder he’s not interested in doing it again.
But I don’t ask. I don’t want to put him on the spot. And that’s his story to share. I hope one day he feels comfortable enough to share it.
“That’s fair,” I reply. “We absolutely have to take Katie into consideration. She’s a special little girl.”
Tuck cuts me a look. “Everyone says that about their kids.”
“Because it’s true. She’s our special girl. I only want the best for her, and I know you do too.”
His Adam’s apple bobs. “I appreciate you understanding. So . . . does this mean you’re leaning that way too?”
I feel the hot press of tears again. My rational brain wants to tell him that yes, I am leaning that way. I don’t think we should have a baby right now. It’s not like either of us will never have the chance again to build a family.
But my heart isn’t so sure. I’m not morally against terminating a pregnancy. This isn’t me feeling guilty or bad.
This is just me feeling around for the truth. For what the next right step might be.
“I don’t know.” I close my eyes and press my fingertips to my forehead. “I’m sorry, I need some time.”
Tuck rolls his lips between his teeth. “Take all the time you need, Maren. I’m here, always, if you need me.”
His kindness only makes me cry harder.
Am I already in love with this baby?
Or am I just falling hopelessly, tragically in love with Tuck?
sixteen
. . .
Tuck
Playing Hooky
Guiding his boat through the marina, Dad sings as we head out to sea.
I wrinkle my brow. “What in the world are you singing?”
“Maren Morris. She’s a country rockstar.”
My gut seizes at the name. I swear to Christ, it’s like the universe is conspiring to make it literally impossible to stop thinking about my nanny.
“A country rockstar?” I put on my sunglasses. The afternoon sky is so clear and bright it’s making my eyes water. “Since when are you into those?”
Dad smiles from his captain’s perch and shrugs. “Since Lady introduced me. She’s got great taste in music. We listen to it all the time. And I mean all the time.”
I spear a hand through my hair. “Dad, I’m happy that you’ve found a . . . special friend. But please keep the details of your sex life to yourself, okay?”
“Okay.” Dad keeps smiling. “You should really try it, though. Life’s so much better when you’re f—”
“Finding things in common with that special friend. Got it. Lady is a lot of fun.”
Dad and Lady Gibbes have been an item ever since they ran into each other at Goldie and Coop’s wedding. Lady comes from a very wealthy family that’s summered on the island for as long as I can remember. She’s actually the aunt of Lu Wade, the girl Riley is obsessed with.
I mean it when I say Lady’s fun. She’s got the mouth of a sailor, but the mind of a women’s studies professor—literally, she’s a professor at UNC Wilmington—and she loves a good drink.
I also mean it when I say I’m happy for my dad. He and Mom split up ten years ago. Luckily, I was deployed then. He’s dated off and on ever since. I’ve never heard him talk this much about anyone, though.
I’ve never seen him sing Maren Morris songs.
There’s a tug in my gut. Not jealousy. Can’t be. I don’t want to be in love. Being in love means you’re dependent on someone else. You’re opening yourself up to total and complete destruction if things go south.
And that’s inevitably what happens—you get cut off at the knees. Just look at Mom and Dad. Becca and me.
Dad and I cruise a good ways out onto the Atlantic. I breathe in the salt air. Turn my face up to the sun. I should be in the office right now. But after this morning’s appointment at Maren’s OBGYN, I knew I’d never be able to focus. I need space. Time to sit and think, the low throb of the engines lulling me into a daze.
I’m tired. I haven’t slept much.
I knew Dad would be heading out to cast some nets, so I called him and asked if I could join. Nothing clears my mind quite like fishing.
It’s a hard way to make a living. But some days, like today, I miss it.
Dad cuts the engines. I open my eyes and push up to my feet, reaching for the nets. But Dad puts a hand on my arm.
“How ’bout we have a beer instead?”
I give him a side eye. “Since when do you not want to bring in a catch?”
“Since my son became a big fancy millionaire and paid off my house. I got Stella and Sam Adams Octoberfest.”