We Are Us

Chapter 33 New York City

Three hours later

After Gavin left, I changed into workout gear and went to the gym, my body a lightning rod of adrenaline and anger. I was too furious to cry, too worked up to sit still.

When I finally return to the apartment, my body is depleted and weak. I need a hot shower, a gallon of water, and a good night’s sleep. The security guard on duty is still the same one who saw me with Gavin, and I tell myself his judgmental glare is just my guilty conscience nagging at me.

I know Tucker is in our apartment the second I open the door. I sense his anger as I cross the threshold, like a drop in barometric pressure just before a storm.

I hesitate to close the door, reluctant to trap myself inside with Tucker, but he rises from the couch and closes it for me. “Where have you been?” Tucker is still in his suit, but he’s unbuttoned his shirt and loosened his tie. In his hand is a tumbler filled to the brim with amber liquid. Scotch, or maybe bourbon.

Despite being “the boss’s son,” no one could ever accuse my fiancé of relying on genetics to get ahead. He leaves for the offices of his family’s private investment firm before I wake up and rarely comes home until I’m itching to change into pajamas and binge-watch Netflix. I don’t though. Because I discovered that Tucker doesn’t appreciate coming home to find me sprawled on the couch with a bag of popcorn and a can of soda. And why shouldn’t he deserve my full attention after a long day? Why wouldn’t I greet him with a happy kiss when he walks through the door?

Noticing the clench of Tucker’s jaw, the tight grip of his fingers on the crystal, my fingers fumble with my coat. “The gym,” I answer, talons of anxiety clawing at my neck. Does Tucker know Gavin was here?

“Bullshit,” he spits out, crossing the room before I’ve managed to get my arms out of the sleeves.

I recoil as Tucker reaches behind me to grip both of my wrists, pi

“Where were you?” he repeats.

“I was at the gym.” My sneakers squeak on the hardwood floor as I squirm against him.

“How do I know you weren’t with him?” His eyes flash with anger. Just inches from mine, they’re bright and the slightest bit glazed.

“Who… ?” My voice trails off. Tucker is drunk. The small hairs on my forearms and at the back of my neck rise up in alarm. Drunk Tucker ca

“Don’t make me say his name, Poppy. There are security cameras all over this building, including one aimed straight at our front door.”

Could he recognize Gavin from that one time he saw us together, all those years ago? Is that even possible?

But it’s Tucker questions that are most disconcerting right now. I don’t like his tone. And I definitely don’t like the feeling of being cornered, caught. “Then you know he didn’t stay long.”

“He stayed too damn long. And he never should have been here at all.” Tucker pulls at my wrists so that my back arches away from him and my hips jut forward, pressing against his. “Why the fuck was he here, Poppy? Tell me that.”

“He heard we were engaged. H-he wanted to congratulate me,” I stutter over my words. “To wish us well.”

The angry creases at the corner of Tucker’s eyes cut even deeper, and he rubs against me, hard enough to feel evidence of a desire I don’t yet reciprocate. “Really? And just what did you say?”

I search for a response that would soothe the hard edges of Tucker’s temper. “I—”

“Did you thank him?”

“Yes.”

“Invite him to our wedding?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Did you fuck him? One last taste of his dick before our wedding?”

“Tucker!” I fight against his grip, twisting away from him, but he’s too big, too strong. Too drunk. “Stop it. Let go of me, right now.”

“After everything I’ve done for you, for your family. Look where you live, look how far you’ve come. Because of me, goddamn it. Everything you are, everything you have, is because of me.”

I ignore the barbs he’s throwing my way, purposely trying to provoke me into a heated exchange. But I refuse to give it to him. Instead, I try another tactic, pushing the tension from my body and forcing myself to relax into his hold. Tucker can be temperamental, but he’s never physically hurt me before. At least, not since that night. “Tucker, please. This isn’t who you are. I love you. I’m marrying you.” I feel tears gathering and I let them fall, staring right at my fiancé as they slide down my cheeks. “You’re scaring me.”

He drops my wrists, his expression one of surprise and shame as he backs away. “Shit. Poppy, I—”

“It’s okay,” I reassure him, just wanting this moment to be over. There’s no point talking about it when he’s been drinking.

And, truth be told, I would be pretty rattled myself if Tucker’s first love, the woman he thought he’d spend the rest of his life with, showed up the week before our wedding. But there’s never been anyone in Tucker’s life who compares to what I had with Gavin.

Not even Wren, though she would definitely disagree.

“Come on, let’s go to bed.” I finally step away from the wall and put my arm around Tucker, leading him into our bedroom.

“I had a shit day, Poppy.” He drops onto the mattress with a groan. “Nothing like spotting an opportunity and watching it go down in flames. Too risky, they said. Too speculative, they said. Well, want to know what I say? A bunch of fucking pussies, all of them. My father included.”

“They’ll come around,” I say, keeping my tone light and soothing as I bend down to help Tucker with his shoes.

I showered at the gym, so it only takes me a few minutes to change into pajamas and brush my teeth. When I return, Tucker is sprawled across the mattress, his face relaxed and at peace. I take a moment to stare at him, at his broad forehead and aquiline nose and the cleft in his chin. His dark hair is messy against our pristine white sheets and my hand itches to smooth it away from his face.

Of course, Tucker wanted me home after he’d had a bad day. And I shouldn’t blame him for losing his temper. Not only did he arrive home to an empty apartment, he discovered Gavin had been here.

If anything, I’m angry at the stupid security guard. I can’t imagine Tucker checks the video footage every day. He must have been tipped off.

Tucker loves me so much, and he counts on me. We’re a team.

But when I close my eyes, it’s Gavin’s face I see. Gavin’s touch I crave. And Gavin’s hurt that coils through me, pulling so tight I can barely breathe.

I need him to believe what I said. Every word, especially the vicious ones.

Almost as much as I want him to read between my wounded accusations, root out every single lie.

Tick tock, tick tock. One week until my wedding.