Chapter Four
Libby
Five o’clock in the morning was a blessing, after the night I’d spent tossing and turning. After I’d had a long, hot shower and had spent twenty minutes of picking through my closet, Olivia joined me in the bedroom. She watched me change into yet another outfit, and shook her head.
“You look pretty in the blue dress, Mommy. You should wear that one.” I arched an eyebrow at her.
“Why does it matter if I’m pretty?” She rolled her eyes at me. “Mom, I’m almost five years old. I know that you like to feel pretty when you talk to Uncle Tuck.” My eyes widened. “Don’t worry, he’s my favorite too. If you want, I can wear my pink dress, and I can come too.”
“You think Uncle Tuck is my favorite?”
“He’s your best friend. He came when Daddy went away, and he made you smile again. I like it better when you smile. It makes me happy.” Her little face screwed up as she tilted her head to one side. “I was wrong. Wear the pink and white one. It makes you look like you’re not a mom yet.” I laughed aloud at it, and hung the pale blue sundress back up in the closet.
“I like looking like I’m your mom, by the way,” I countered as I slipped the thin fabric of the dress over my head.
“Well, of course you do, Mom,” her exasperated little voice made me smile, and I was glad my face was still behind the gauzy fabric. “But don’t you think it would be nice for you to get a boyfriend? Teacher said that everybody is happier when they aren’t alone.” I sighed and made a mental eye roll of my own. Paul had been on the market for a boyfriend for a while, and my little pitcher with big ears didn’t miss a thing their favorite teacher said.
I sent her to her room to get dressed and made her favorite breakfast: fresh-cut fruit and toast with an egg on the side. She hadn’t gotten around to trying the egg yet, but every morning, she asked anyway, saying she was almost ready to try something new. It wasn’t until I was putting her Tinkerbell dishes on the table with her breakfast that I realized she had started asking for that scrambled egg after she’d seen me make eggs for Tucker the morning after he had spent the night.
She skipped into the room and climbed up onto the chair all by herself, even though I hovered nearby. She ate her breakfast, kicking her feet, and humming to the radio. When she got to the egg, she sniffed, then picked at it with her fork, pushing it around the small plate until the fluffy mass was a pile of crumbs.
“Not today, Punkin?” I asked, clearing the dishes from the table in exchange for a damp cloth to wipe her hands and face.
“I think I will tomorrow. I just wasn’t in the mood to try something new today.” She hopped down from her seat and got her shoes on without being reminded, and gathered her sweater and her backpack.
The drive to the preschool was too short, and before I knew it, I was headed to Jitters for my morning appointment and the biggest cup of coffee I could get my hands on. I felt sick for not being more honest with Tucker. I may not have been given the chance to finish college, but I knew almost as much as my husband had about law, from a decade of acting as his unpaid paralegal. As far as I could tell, the new will my ex-husband had created was solid as a brick wall. Tucker was my last chance to push through and protect Olivia from her father’s breakdown.
I ordered a latte for myself and an Americano, extra-hot, for Tucker, and sat outside, so he wouldn’t have to look for me. My hands shook and my toe tapped against the leg of the table as I tried to imagine the things he’d say. He would do his best to find a way through the mess that Andrew had made, not just for Olivia, but for Andrew himself. I’d seen his face when I told him what his friend, my husband, had done. He would make this right, or fight till he had nothing left to give, to let his friend have honor in death. What I would’ve given to have met Tucker first. Before Andrew had taken me down his rabbit-hole of keeping up appearances, putting his success and his desires before my needs—or Olivia’s. Tucker was helping me because he was the man he’d always believed Andrew to be.
A shadow fell across my shoulders, and I gripped the warm paper cup tighter in my hands to still my shaking fingers as Tucker came around me and placed a hand on my shoulder. I leaned up for a kiss on the cheek and he sat across from me with my folder in his hands.
“Was I late?” He asked, before taking a sip of his coffee and shooting me a grateful smile.
“No, Olivia was ready for school on time and I got here early.”
“I sure miss that kid. She’s brilliant.” I grinned and nodded.
“Definitely too smart for her own good. She asked after you. She wanted to know when you were going to come over again and tell her more funny stories.”
He splayed his fingers out over the Manila folder.
“I am happy to do that, anytime. Maybe on neutral ground some time?”
“Don’t be silly. You can come over, any time you want to. I need to stop being such an idiot, and now is a good time, don’t you think?”
“You’ve never been an idiot. I spent all night staring at a part of Andrew he wanted to keep hidden, part that I saw so rarely I convinced myself it wasn’t who he was. But you knew, didn’t you?”
I felt tears sting my eyelids and sniffed, studying my coffee cup to avoid his eyes.
“I wish he was the man he wanted people to think he was,” I said, and dabbed my eyes with my napkin to draw the shameful tears out the corners and away from the makeup I’d applied in a fit of optimism and vanity.
“Did you know he had cancer?” I glanced up at him wide-eyed.
“How did you find out? He didn’t tell me until after the divorce, and swore me to secrecy.”
“He told his attorney. Why did you tell people it was his heart? Why not just tell the truth?”
“His heart did give out. Congenital disorder plus thyroid cancer, equals sixes as to which would kill him first—the cancer, or the treatment.” I paused, unsure if he’d understand. “I feel bad for his widow, sometimes. Not bad enough to give her Olivia’s inheritance, but… I don’t hate her.”
“Andrew’s best quality seemed to be his ability to surround himself with people who were better than him.” I glanced up at his words, and the look on his face made a hot, crimson flush creep up my neck. “I talked to Steve this morning. He reached out when he found out I was looking at your case.” My tongue flicked out over dry lips, but my mouth was a desert and there was no relief from the dread that overtook me at his expression.
“He suggested that I use your husband’s cancer as grounds for dismissing the will. Which, obviously, is exactly the right course, and what I would’ve suggested yesterday, had you just told me.” I floundered for a moment. I couldn’t explain why I hadn’t told him. Part of me had assumed that his best friend knew already, but mostly, Andrew had just trained me to be obedient to him.
“I’m sorry, Tucker. He made me promise never to tell anyone, and I guess I just never thought to break it.” The look on his face told me he was guessing at the parts I wasn’t sharing, but he left it alone, and I was grateful for it. He rubbed his jaw and watched me across the table, and my stomach tightened as I remembered how good it had felt to have his eyes on me in the dim firelight, as his hands moving with them, all over my body. I felt swollen with need, and with loneliness for him, and his eyes mirrored my thoughts back to me until I was afraid he could see inside my head. I dropped my gaze to the table and gathered myself back together before looking up at him again. He had opened the file and was looking over it.
“Libby, I think we have a shot at getting Olivia an inheritance. But it’s a shot, not a guarantee. If we lose, you’re out the inheritance and the cost of an attorney, since you so stubbornly refused my help privately.” He glared at me and I laughed.
“What do you want me to say, Tucker? I should have let you help me as a friend. I panicked, thinking you would see me as a leech, only remembering you exist when I need something. That is so not the case. I hope you know that.”
“Apology accepted, but you should work on that, you aren’t very good at them.” I threw a wadded-up napkin at him, and he laughed when it fell harmlessly on the table in front of him. “We’re going to do this, and I feel positive about our chances. But no matter what, you will be okay. I won’t let you or Olivia down, okay?” He reached out a hand, and I placed mine in it. His fingers were warm and strong, and as callused as I remembered. “I have missed being your friend, Libby. Right now, being the friend I promised is my priority. To you… and to Olivia.” He ran his thumb over my knuckles.
“So, this means you’ll come to dinner?” He laughed and nodded. “Thank you, Tucker. I feel so stupid for not just talking to you about Andrew when he was still alive. I thought it would be disloyal, but now, I wonder if you could’ve spared him some of his mental anguish, or helped me shelter Olivia from the worst of it.”
“You did the best you could, Lib. No sense second guessing yourself now. He leaned farther forward and pulled my hand to his mouth, dragging his soft, full lips over the tender spot his thumb had warmed in a ghost of a kiss.
“I’m not going anywhere, Libby. I did what you asked and left you alone—and you’ll have to admit, it didn’t turn out so great. This time, we’re going to do it my way.” I bristled and he gripped my hand tighter, forcing me to stay close. “When you’re ready, you will come to me. Not because I made you, but because I’ve earned your trust.” He gave me back my hand and I folded them together in my lap.
“I trust that you love Olivia. I trust that you will do everything in your power to help us get back our home and what is rightfully ours.” I shook my head and sighed. “Don’t ask me to trust that you know what’s best for me. I believed that once, and I have well and truly learned my lesson.”
Tucker flipped through the pages in the folder, scanning each one quickly before moving to the next. His face was set in determination, and a dark cloud hovered over his features. It was rare to see him so brooding and angry, and the need in my stomach intensified, even as I cursed myself silently for bringing him back into my life. It couldn’t be healthy to watch his anger and want him even more. Not when I knew how painful and terrifying a man’s anger could be. I looked up and he was watching me again, the expression on his rugged features unreadable. No, I wouldn’t be sating my need for his body on top of mine. He was too good a man to risk ruining him with my flaws and failings.
I felt the pressure of fresh tears and blinked rapidly, willing them back and praying he hadn’t noticed. Instead, the wrought iron table shifted as he stood and came to me, putting his arms around me.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Libby,” he whispered as he kissed my temple. “I never could. No matter what else you think, or choose. You know I will never cause you harm.” I didn’t push away, just sat stiff in his arms. How could I relax, when the man knew my thoughts as well as I did? If he had a weapon, that would be it—and if there was one thing I knew, it was that men were canny with their weapons.