I stare into his soulful eyes. They speak of his intentions, the intentions Logan so blatantly said are ill warranted. But from my point of view, from where I can see it, he’s genuine. And I might regret this, but I nod. “Okay.”
“Are we going to be okay?” His eyes search mine. “Because I’m addicted, Emma. I’m addicted to you and I don’t want anything to stand between us.”
Are we going to be okay?
Can he truly be so oblivious? There is one giant elephant standing between us. How can he not see that? Or is it not an issue because I’ll never . . .
“I know.”
“So we’re good?”
I swallow hard and nod. “We’re good, Tucker.”
He lets out a long breath and then sinks us down on the mattress. He lays me on top of him and strokes my hair with one hand as the other holds me close to his body. His warmth wraps around me and eases some of the building anxiety. There might be some unanswered question on my end, but right now, lying here in Tucker’s arm, I know one thing: I’m addicted to him as well and I’m pretty sure he now holds my heart in his hands. What he does with it is up to him.
I just hope I don’t break.
Chapter Twenty
TUCKER
“Help me with this,” I ask Racer as I try to position the plush cream rug I bought for the living room. The other day I went to Olum’s furniture and dipped into my savings. I purchased some things for our house, hoping to surprise Emma. Again.
“I came to finish up this mantle, not decorate with you,” Racer replies while leaning against the wall, arms crossed.
“Just fucking help me. Christ, dude.”
Racer huffs and walks over to the other side of the rug and helps me position it. “You should do it at an angle, offset the furniture. Gives the room a fun yet cozy feeling.” I lift an eyebrow at him and he shrugs. “Nate Berkus was on Rachel Ray the other day, and he has some good pointers.”
Racer’s celebrity crush is Rachel Ray. He loves her.
“I think straight is fine.”
“Have it your way.”
He helps me move the couch back into position, and then adds the navy blue armchairs I purchased for either side of the rug. Across from the couch, I lined up the new oak buffet that matches the coffee table, and doubles as a TV stand. I brought my TV down from my room and set it up so Emma and I can snuggle on the couch and watch movies, instead of always having to watch things on her computer screen, or in my bed. Although, that had its advantages . . .
And then there’s the dining room. Instead of our card table, which holds some good memories, I purchased a bar-height seven-piece dining room table that takes up the space perfectly and fits in with the rest of the furniture in the house. I topped everything off with a few bunches of fresh peonies around the house because they’re Emma’s favorite. They were a bitch to find. I had to go to a florist.
“I think that does it.” I wipe my forehead and look around the space. Shit, it looks really good in here. “The fireplace came out great, man. Thanks for the help.”
Racer dusts off his fingers on his bare chest and says, “Told you I was the fireplace master.”
He is. He took a dreary brick fireplace and turned it into something slightly rustic with the wood-top mantelpiece. A nice centerpiece for the comfortable living room.
“Are you going to put those somewhere?” Racer points to a few picture frames currently placed on the new dining room table.
“Shit, I almost forgot.” I take the frames to the mantle and line them up, making sure my favorite picture of me kissing Emma’s cheek in Skaneateles is in the middle. That smile; fuck, she’s looks so damn happy. I’m a fucking lucky bastard.
Racer takes it all in and nods. “Yeah, those will score you some brownie points.” He clears his throat and adds, “You like her, like really like her.”
I nod. “Yeah, I fucking do.”
Thoughtfully, Racer runs his hand over his jaw. “Does this mean you can move past Sadie, and redo the nursery?”
Never skipping a beat, Racer gets straight to the point. I don’t blame him though. He’s watched me for over a year try to deal with the backlash. I’m sure he’s ready for me to move on.
“Small steps, man,” I answer, feeling the weight of the nursery now hanging on my shoulders. Last time I was in that room was when I showed it to Sadie. I’m not ready to return, although now, I’m not as sure why. Sadie’s gone. There is no baby . . .
“Okay, but don’t you—” Lights shine in the windows indicating Emma’s return home.
“Shit, you’re not supposed to be here.” I scramble to gather Racer’s tools and his shirt and toss them at him. “I don’t want you acting like a dickhead when she sees it all for the first time.”
“You mean I don’t get to be a part of the grand reveal? After everything I did to help? That’s fucked up, man.”
“You’ll live. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. Now fucking move.”
I push him toward the side door just as Emma walks in. She’s wearing a pair of yoga pants and a green Binghamton University sweatshirt. Her hair cascades down over her shoulders and her blue eyes are highlighted with just a hint of mascara. God, she’s so beautiful.
She takes us both in and carefully sets her backpack on the counter. With a pop to her hip she points at both of us and says, “It’s a little concerning that I keep coming home to you two without your shirts on. Is this something I should be worried about?”
“Ha, Tucker wishes.” Racer pushes me and I push him back.
“We were just doing some work,” I answer.
“Yeah, and Prince Charming over here won’t turn the heat down while we’re working because he doesn’t want you to be cold when you get home.”
Emma sweetly smiles at me, stands on her toes and gives me a light kiss on the lips. “Thank you.”
Racer rolls his eyes as I wrap my arm around Emma’s waist. “All right, I’m out. See you tomorrow, dude. Bring the Oatmeal Pies, you owe me.”
I do owe him. We say our goodbyes and when the side door shuts, I grip Emma’s hands and say, “I have something to show you, but you have to close your eyes.”
She closes them and says, “Am I going to open my eyes and see you standing there with your pants down? You don’t have to go to such great lengths to have sex you know, you can just ask.”
“It’s not sex.” I chuckle and guide her into the living room. I angle her in the corner so when she opens her eyes she can take in both the living room and the dining room. I hold her shoulders and take a deep breath; I really hope she likes it.
I lean over her shoulder and whisper in her ear, “Okay, open your eyes, baby.”
“Oh my gosh, Tucker.” She turns to me and then looks around again. “It looks like a magazine in here. Did you do this all by yourself?”
“Racer helped.” I swallow hard. “Do you like it?”