Night 3
At dinner later with Kevin and Bruce, Tucker still won’t let go of the fact that I’m refusing to swim in the ocean for the rest of our honeymoon. Hell, for the rest of our lives.
“I’m the one who got stung, but now she’s haunted by the water,” he tells them over tuna tartare in their immaculate dining room. The huge open space overlooks the pool deck and the turquoise panorama beyond their estate. “I swear, trying to steal my thunder at every turn.”
“I want none of your thunder,” I say sweetly, smirking at him over the rim of my wineglass. “You go ahead and wear your jellyfish sting as a badge of honor. I’ll be over there, safe on land.”
Tuck snickers.
I glance at our hosts. “In my defense, I barely escaped a fiery plane crash to get here. My nerves are a little rattled.”
“She spent all day writing our will,” my husband pipes up. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was planning to get rid of me.”
“You’re not serious?” Bruce stares at us in horror then washes it down with a gulp of red wine.
“True story,” I say. “There was some kind of electrical fire on the plane, and we had to make an emergency landing.”
“Meanwhile, this crazy couple in front of us, who were at each other’s throats the entire flight, are suddenly acting like the couple going down on the Titanic. Holding each other and professing their love.” Tucker gives a decisive nod. “Fun times.”
“See?” Bruce looks plaintively at Kevin, who’s laughing at our misfortune. “Nothing exciting ever happens to us.”
“I can cut the brake line to one of the cars and not tell you which one,” Kevin answers, deadpan.
Tucker barks out a sharp laugh.
“Oh, stop it.” Bruce shoves Kevin’s arm. “You couldn’t live without me.” Then to me, “I get it, sweetie. Look how he treats me.”
During the main course, Bruce, now a few glasses into what tastes like very expensive wine, starts grilling us. He’s clearly the nosier, more outgoing one in the relationship, while Kevin seems to prefer sitting back and letting his partner carry most of the conversation. They make an interesting couple.
“So who did we let into our house?” Bruce asks, swirling his glass while narrowing his eyes at me. “For all we know, we’re enjoying a lovely meal with those kids from Natural Born Killers.”
“Like we’ve got the Di Laurentises in a pile of corpses in the deep freezer?”
“That was deliciously specific,” Bruce says, grinning at me. He’s got a dazzling white smile, and he looks much less douchey when he’s wearing clothes.
“Ignore him,” Kevin says. “He’s desperate for someone to want him dead.”
“I’m nosy. So shoot me.” Bruce glances at Tucker. “So what do you do for a living, Tuck? My guess, judging by that physique? Athlete.”
“Nah.” Tucker shrugs. “Dean and I played hockey together in college, but now I run a couple bars in Boston.”
He proceeds to tell the men about his business. How the first Tucker’s Bar that he opened right out of college had become a popular neighborhood hangout that attracted a lot of pro athletes. With its success came the second location, which is doing even better. Bruce looks it up on Instagram, much to the embarrassment of Kevin, who frowns at his partner for pulling out his phone in the middle of dinner.
“Your content and marketing are impressive,” Bruce marvels. “You do this all yourself?”
“Somewhat. I hired a couple locals that do video and professional photography for us. In-house staff run our socials. Honestly, a lot of good friends helped us out in the beginning.” He shrugs. “A couple of my best friends play for the Bruins, so they talked up the bar, and now we’ve got some famous clientele popping by.”
Bruce looks highly impressed. “You have plans beyond the bars, or is this franchise the baby?”
“He has a ton of ideas,” I chime in. “He’s nowhere near done yet.”
“Definitely thinking of opening more bars in other cities. But…I get bored,” Tucker admits.
Frowning, I glance over at him. “You’re bored with the bars?” This is the first I’m hearing of it.
“No. I mean, sometimes.” He shrugs, reaching for his wine. “It’s the double-edged sword of a great staff and an excellent general manager. The bars run without me, and I end up with too much free time on my hands. Gets me antsy.”
I gaze down at my plate, hoping it’ll shield my expression, whatever it may be. I’m not quite sure how I feel hearing that Tuck’s not enjoying his business. I hadn’t gotten any sense he felt unfulfilled in his job. Not a single hint of it. I always make a point to ask him about work, and he always just smiles and says it’s all good.
“I hear ya,” Bruce tells Tuck, nodding. “I’m the same way. Full of ideas. Always on the go.”
“Damn man can’t sit still,” Kevin agrees with a wry smile. “Such is the life of a fitness guru, I suppose.”
“Is that what you do?” I ask Bruce, forcing myself to focus on our new friends and not my husband’s apparent unhappiness. “I was wondering after seeing you out there with your camera.”
As Tuck and I grill him on the ins and outs of being an “influencer,” we discover that there’s a lot more to the job. Along with having millions of followers across all his social media accounts and making a fortune from sponsored posts, Bruce also works as a personal trainer for an elite clientele.
“He trains two New York Congresswomen and one former president,” Kevin boasts, clearly proud of his partner. “Can’t say who the prez is, but feel free to guess.”
Tucker and I are suitably impressed.
When Bruce turns his cross-examination on me and I mention I just graduated from law school, I discover that Kevin is also a lawyer. Not only that, but a senior partner at a top-three firm in New York.
“We practice criminal law,” Kevin tells me. “My section, we exclusively handle wrongful conviction cases. Mostly pro bono work.”
I lean forward. “See, that’s fascinating. I’ve known since I started law school I wanted to work in criminal law. Something like that must be incredibly satisfying.”
“It’s more disappointment than not, if I’m being honest. We have a thorough vetting process, only taking cases we sincerely believe we can prove should be overturned. There’s a high bar, however. Courts are often reluctant. Every defeat, though, motivates us to try harder on the next one. Each case is long and arduous, but yes, it’s certainly rewarding.” He smiles at me. “I imagine a young woman like yourself is quite familiar with hard work. I can’t even fathom raising a child while in law school. I barely made it through Harvard myself without having a nervous breakdown, and that was child-free.”
“It wasn’t easy,” I admit. “Tucker was a tremendous support.”
“She’s being modest,” he insists. “Even before we met, she worked two jobs putting herself through college. And then afterward, she was up every morning and night with our daughter, doing feedings and diapers and all that while highlighting textbooks and writing papers. It was exhausting just watching her.”
“You’re two rather extraordinary young people,” Kevin says, as Bruce tops up our glasses. “Not everyone is as motivated or industrious at your age. I certainly wasn’t. Took me a few years to find my way.”
“I think having our daughter really encouraged both of us to make the best life for her that we can,” Tucker answers, clasping my hand under the table. “We want to give her everything. Make sure she’s always taken care of.”
“Stop,” Bruce groans. “You’re adorable. I can’t stand it.”
During dessert, Bruce and Tucker bro out over fitness stuff. Kevin’s eyes about roll out of his head when the two men leave the table to start comparing bodyweight resistance techniques. Tucker’s in amazing shape, and although he resists the urge to pull his shirt off, Bruce notices and remarks on my husband’s incredible abs and biceps. As if anyone could not. I don’t take it personally when Bruce blatantly flirts with him while Kevin and I talk law over our mango mousse. For what it’s worth, Kevin seems otherwise unfazed by his flirtatious partner. He’s a good sport.
“We’ll be here for another few days,” I let them know as they walk us out after a fantastic meal. “I’m sure we’ll run into one another again, but it’d be nice to return the favor. Not sure we can come up with a spread this great, but drinks at our place maybe?”
“Just point me toward the ice bucket,” Bruce says, kissing my cheek.
On the walk home under the moonlight, Tucker takes my hand, drawing shapes with his thumb across my knuckles. “You have fun?”
“Definitely.” Then I remember something, and my mood dampens slightly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were bored with the bars?”
That gets me a shrug. “I’m not bored, exactly. Just restless sometimes.”
“Still, you should’ve said something.”
“I didn’t say anything because it’s really not a big deal. And I didn’t see the point in distracting you during your last year at Harvard.”
“You’ve been feeling this way for a year?” I swear, I love this man with all my heart, but would it kill him not to be the strong, supportive type all the time?
Tucker squeezes my hand. “I’m not feeling any sort of way. But see, this is why I didn’t bring it up. You would’ve just tried to fix a minor problem, and we both know your stress levels can’t afford to add anything else to your plate. It’s already damn full, darlin.’”
My husband being unhappy with his work doesn’t sound like a “minor problem.” But Tucker doesn’t allow me to dwell on it. He stops walking and brings my hand up to his lips, kissing my knuckles.
“Did I mention how hot you look tonight?” he drawls.
“Are you trying to distract me from your work stuff?”
“No, I’m trying to compliment my hot wife.”
Sensing he’s not going to budge, I decide to let it go. When he’s ready to talk about it, he’ll talk about it. For now, I’m just going to enjoy this night out with my husband. It’s been a long time since we spent an evening with other adults without having to constantly run to check on Jamie. I’d forgotten what it was like to be us as a couple, not just parents.
“Well, it’s about time you did.” I mock pout. “I went to all the trouble of picking out this dress, and you couldn’t be bothered to compliment it?” I have to admit, the long, linen wrap dress I’d chosen does amazing things for my post-pregnancy boobs.
“What a selfish bastard,” he agrees, gripping my hips to walk me back until I’m up against a palm tree. “Neglecting to tell you how gorgeous you look.”
“Such a bad boy,” I whisper.
Tucker kisses me, the flavor of wine still on his tongue. On this sandy path through the wild green shrubs and tall palms between our two houses, a warm breeze creeps over my skin. I hear only the waves nearby and the insect songs. It’s secluded, though not exactly private.
“I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he mumbles against my mouth. His hands skim my body to squeeze my ass. “You’re beautiful.”
I tug on his hand. “We’re almost at the house.”
“I want to make you come now.”
Oh boy. When he talks like that, I can’t form coherent thoughts. There are so many facets to John Tucker, and I can honestly say this primal, alpha side of him is one of my favorites. Tucker is so agreeable most of the time, so happy to ignore his own needs and wants in service of mine and Jamie’s.
But this Tucker knows precisely what he wants and how to get it. The night we met, he seduced me with such effortlessness, I hardly saw it coming. One minute we were flirting at a college sports bar, the next we were naked in his truck while he whispered dirty words to me.
My fingers slide through his hair and grip the back of his neck as I return his kiss, deeper, pulling him closer. He pushes the opening of my dress apart to slip his hand between my legs, dipping his fingers below my skimpy panties. The first brush of his touch against my warm, needy flesh makes me entirely forget about where we are or the rough trunk of the tree at my back. I part my legs farther and encourage him to keep going, rocking against his palm.
“I love you,” he whispers, pressing two fingers inside me. “You’re so gorgeous.”
I don’t really hear him. I’m too entranced by what he does to my body. Biting my lip and hanging onto him to stay on my feet. I’m so sensitive that it doesn’t take long before my muscles clench and my legs being to shake. I muffle my moans into his shoulder, shuddering through an orgasm that leaves me feeling light-headed.
Eyes shut, I’m still breathing heavy when I hear a snap above us.
My eyelids flick open just a heartbeat before something heavy cracks me on the top of the head. I experience a split second of searing pain before everything goes black.
