Chapter Thirty-Two

Today

"What now?" I mutter to Tucker when we wake up.

I'm facing him, his right arm wrapped around my body. His eyes drift open, his mouth closes. I drag my fingertips delicately along his face and he massages my side with smooth, careful swipes of his palm.

With a full, tired voice, he croons, "Well…we could do it again ."

I sigh. "Okay. And then what?"

"I'll probably brush my teeth."

"Okay and then what?"

He smiles and kisses me with a closed mouth. After a moment of deep focus, he cradles my jaw and kisses me again. He says, "You know what sixteen-year-old me and eighteen-year-old me and twenty-two-year-old me wanted more than anything?"

"Hm?"

"To kiss you whenever I wanted."

"And what does thirty-year-old you want?" I ask when he moves his lips to my neck.

He snaps upright. "Oh fuck, are we thirty?"

"In…" I reach back for my phone. "Fourteen hours."

"Well, that snuck up on me." Tucker runs his hands down my breast and caresses my stomach and runs his nose along my collarbone. He whispers. "Happy almost birthday."

Laying flat on my back, I grapple for his neck and pull him tight against me.

"Ell?" His hands slide between my back and the mattress.

"We could stay here forever," I mutter. "Squatters rights."

"I think Airbnb would disagree."

He sits up and pulls me with him. I slide my legs over his, straddling into his lap. He frees my face of hair and tucks strands behind my ears, and I relax, eyes closed, wishing I could always feel the gentle movement of his hands. I wonder if this is normal for him, if he treats every woman he sleeps with this way.

Does he worship their bodies and mutter, " Good God ," to himself? Do these unnamed, faceless women get to press their hearts against his and be held with no need to move or shift but stay completely in bliss just feeling their rhythms sync together?

"Eli," I whisper.

"Hm?" He rubs his closed mouth against my neck.

"Do you love me?"

Tucker stops. He holds my back in his arms and lifts his head. With serious eyes, he says, "You said I didn't have to." He must feel the pound in my chest. "You said we could just pretend."

My throat swells. Tears are coming, I wish I could stop it, but I nod fervently, trying to agree, "I know." It doesn't come out so clearly.

"Ella, please. Please ," Tucker begs. Our foreheads connect. "I wish I could explain. I wish I could make you understand." He wipes away my tears, and my face relaxes into his palms. "You weren't breathing."

"But I'm breathing now," I whisper.

"No one knew if you were going to wake up. I don't know how I could have gone on if something happened to you. Nothing will ever compare to that pain and if I didn't love you as much as I did, then I might not have hurt so much."

"I'm fine," I sob.

"You were completely limp in my arms. I've never been so scared in my entire life."

"But you did everything right. You saved me."

"It was so close." Tucker kisses me. "Anything can happen. If I choose to love you, then something like that can happen again. I can't help loving my family, I didn't choose that. But I can stop loving you to protect myself from all of that pain."

I grip his wrists. "You can do that? You can just stop loving me?"

He mutters, "I'm trying really hard."

"Did you love me when you pulled me out of the car?" I ask. "Or…before then?"

His nose swipes across mine, a melancholy smile affecting his face. He says, "I don't know when it started, but I know when it ended. The way I loved you every second of my life consumed me, Ella. It wasn't healthy. It sure didn't help me get through fucking therapy. I had to stop being that guy if I wanted to stop remembering that day."

So, he did love me.

I wish I could relive those moments – I love you, Ella – and dissect them with a microscopic lens, scrutinize what his face looked like, what I could have possibly done to make him feel that way. I don't know what he would have seen in me, but I love him for reasons he wouldn't be able to see in himself. I could melt in the warmth of our affection for one another, not being able to see the fire or know what caused it but burn in the heat of it anyway.

My palms land on his chest, a lone, struggling tear landing on my thigh.

"But you'll love someone one day," I tell him. "You find a woman and marry her and -"

"Not like I love you." He pulls me close to his face and whispers, "Ella, you were my dream. I'll never love anyone like I love you, I promise."

I'm abruptly lifted from him, and Tucker slides off the bed, saying, "I'm going to get you some coffee." He puts his boxers and sweatpants back on.

That's not fair, I want to tell him, watching him walk out of the door. If we love each other, we should decide together what comes next. I reach for his sweatshirt where it's crumpled on the floor beside me. It shouldn't be this hard to be together. It doesn't need to be this complicated.

I tug the sweatshirt on and slip into a pair of shorts.

Tucker loved me alone for all of those years. This kind of karma isn't justified, especially because I know he still loves me, I feel it. He said it. Not like I love you. Present tense. I wouldn't be loving him alone and he wouldn't be loving me alone, we'd be loving each other together, but separately. I don't know how to make him understand the value of love even when loss is inevitable.

I walk out of the bedroom and Tucker stands just outside of the door, holding a cup of coffee. He's surprised to see me clothed.

"Thank you," I say, taking it.

He's looking at me with questioning eyes. Is it ruined?

I motion for him to come closer and then I kiss him.

He says, "I'm going for a swim."

I drink my coffee at the kitchen table, watching him in the pool. Johnny's outside on the phone. The sky is a bit dark now, clouds are rolling in. The girls and Ritchie put together a puzzle while Wyatt watches a yearly recap special on a news station. Jen comes into the kitchen and opens the fridge.

"Would you like one?" she asks, holding out an orange.

"Thanks." I take it.

She begins to open hers and senses the cause of my distraction. She's wearing the most adorable olive green dress, her hair straighter than a pin, and she stands beside me, leading me to think she may not want to get her dress crinkled.

She starts, "I thought about your question from the other day. And I know my answer." Her eyes drift to the man holding his phone horizontally, talking to a voice I know well, his mom. Jen smiles. "I know when I decided I loved Johnny. It was when I decided I couldn't live without him."

That statement makes me feel like crying. What a privilege, to decide to love someone. To know you can't live without them and that's the end of the discussion.

She explains, "I considered dating other men and that felt…unbearable."

I watch Tucker cross his arms on the pool's edge, looking out at the water. I concur, "I get that."

"I don't even care about having a wedding," she admits.

"Really? Johnny sounds really excited about it."

"Johnny wants it. A big, huge thing."

"What do you want?"

She finally sits down. "Just him. Just to be married to him." Her eyes drop. "I know I love him more than he loves me and I'm okay with that. I think the wedding is part of the experience for him, but I just want to be married. I don't care about anything else."

I hold my orange, unable to open it. I don't really want it. I just want my hands to feel busy, to feel the weight, to drag my attention back to my senses. I respond, "I'm afraid to tell… someone …how I feel." She's not stupid. Jen's been very perceptive this week. Her eyes flicker to the person in question as I continue, "Because he doesn't feel the same way, or he doesn't want to feel the same way. I'm not sure what to do."

"You just have to be true to you," she says. "Have faith that everything works out the way it should. We don't love people because we want them to love us back, we do it because we can't help it."

I've never told Tucker that I love him. It might cement my status as a lonely unrequited lover. He'll pat my shoulder and say, Thanks Beautiful, but I've already made up my mind. I'm free to have sex all day, though. Catch you later.

I ask Jen, "Why do you think you love him more?"

She swallows. "Because he wants to grow roots and feel settled and that's why he asked me to marry him."

"Why did you say yes?"

"Because I love him." The heaviness on her face softens. "He wouldn't have asked me if he didn't know that. He knows I love him, so much, and I know one day he'll love me that much too." She shrugs. "That's why I wanted to meet you so badly. The fact that you've been friends for so long tells me everything I need to know about his loyalty."

Her confession makes me realize that we all make choices that are right for us in the moment. I couldn't love someone without equal reciprocity. I don't need dinner dates or fun events around town, a partner to do things with – I just need a feeling. If Tucker's dead set on not being with me, then it's the choice he needs to make. He'll have a wife and family carved out of safety and fear, and I'll never be able to look at him again. There are unknown choices I'll have to make without him, ideas I can't stomach right now.

Serena opens the screen door and hollers, "Hey Tuck! Do you mind taking the boat back? It looks like it might storm soon."

He nods, gesturing to the sky, and climbs out of the pool.

I push out my chair. "Hey, Tucker, I'll come with you."

After I cross into the patio, he dries off with a towel and stops me with, "No. I don't want you to come." He sighs, eyeing my confusion. "This weather is unpredictable. It doesn't look bad, but a storm could blow in fast. I don't want you out there."

He flits his eyes to Johnny. Tucker comes up to me and grips my chin, eyes me with affection, and takes the keys that Serena hands through the door. He's trying to be discreet, but I don't care. I wrap my arms around him and kiss him deeply, my breath undoubtedly rancid.

When I pull away, Tucker mutters, "What was that for?"

I twirl the ends of his hair. "Just because I can. For right now."

He pulls me back in for another kiss, one where our friends on the other side of the door and the one on the patio can see. I have a split-second thought - bad idea, abort - when Wyatt whistles behind me. They're going to think we're together, but we're not. I'll have to explain that Tucker doesn't want to love me. We'll go back to divorced vacations and separate group messages. It ends tonight for him.

Tucker pulls away with a smile and snatches his shirt off a chair before walking toward the boat.

I look sideways. Johnny holds his phone by his side and exhales, shooting me a frustrated look.

"I don't want to hear it, Johnny," I begin.

"We need to talk, Ella," he says.

We watch Tucker start the boat and Johnny grabs my arm, pulling me to a patio chair. I keep an eye on the sky.

Johnny angles his chair toward me and rests his arms on his knees. "Listen, I know I've come across like a dick about you two on several occasions, but I have reasons."

"You don't want me to be romantic with him, I get it, Johnny," I try.

"That's not it." He pauses. "Do you know why you went home that night you had your accident?"

I shake my head. I've never thought much about it, it seemed like an inconsequential question to have answered. I explain, "No, I don't know why."

"And your parents don't know why."

"I don't remember anything about the days leading up to the accident."

"But Tucker was there, at your house, waiting for you." His eyes follow mine, checking to see if this makes any sense. "Ella, you left Alabama to see him at your parents' house."

I always assumed I was going home for a random visit. My mother said Tucker just happened to stop by. He did that. He would come by to see my dad or pop in for dinner if his parents were eating out.

"Why would I go see him specifically?" I ask Johnny.

"Because you called him the night before and told him you loved him."

I'm thrust into a state of shock. " What ?"

He tilts his head sympathetically. "And he told you he loved you back. Y'all were going to start a life together." Johnny looks out at the ripples the boat made in the water. "That's why he feels so guilty. Tucker thinks it was his fault. He thinks you would have never been on the road if he didn't ask you to see him."