We Are Us

Chapter 35 Bora Bora, Tahiti

Honeymoon

It is a long flight to Tahiti, thirteen hours, but from the minute we land, I know it was worth it. French Polynesia is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Translucent water, the most perfect shade of aquamarine, sprawls like a glistening blanket below an endless azure sky. The air is sultry and tropical, fragrant with the scent of gardenias, hibiscus, and the faintest hint of vanilla. Coconut palm trees stand like soldiers, their leaves gently swaying in the breeze, a quiet whisper on the wind.

Our home for the next ten days is a luxurious, glass-bottomed villa. It perches on stilts driven into the ocean, and a staircase co

It is, truly, paradise.

“Do we really have to go home in a week? Can’t we stay here forever?” I exhale a contented sigh, staring out at the most breathtaking sunset I’ve ever seen. Vibrant pinks and purples are smeared across the horizon with the restraint of a toddler’s finger painting, shards of color reflected onto the serene surface of the ocean.

Sitting beside me on the deck of our villa, Tucker glances at me with an indulgent smile and takes a sip of his post-swim, pre-di

It’s a moment. Not a moment in time. But a moment.

The slow blink of Tucker’s inky black lashes, the relaxed slope of his shoulders, the way he holds his glass with barely enough pressure to keep it aloft. Everything about Tucker in this moment conveys happiness and comfort. That I make him happy and comfortable.

That I am loved.

And in this moment, our moment… everything that happened between us feels preordained. As if we’ve been pushed together by the hand of fate herself.

The chirp of Tucker’s phone interrupts my musings.

“Who was that?” I ask after he ends the call. It’s an u

“Work.” His voice is nonchalant.

“Since when do you and Wren work together?”

The vein that runs along his temple pulses, his jaw clenching as he reaches for the sunglasses he’d idly tossed on the table earlier. “Since always. Wren’s an art consultant, I’m an investment advisor. We both hunt the same whales.”

“We’re on our honeymoon,” I remind him.

“Business is business, Poppy. And there are people I’d like to meet while we’re out here. People Wren has known for years.”

“Here, in Bora Bora?” I hate how needy I sound.

“No. But we’ve already been here a week. You’ll love Indonesia, too.”

My head twists so fast I hear a crack, followed immediately by a jolt of pain. “Indonesia?” I repeat, rubbing the ache just below my ear.

“Yes. I’ll probably only be busy for a day or two. I’m sure there’s plenty of sightseeing tours for you to enjoy. I’ll have the concierge look into it.” Tucker’s lips arrange themselves into a satisfied grin beneath his mirrored sunglasses.

“You’re going to send me sightseeing—all by myself?” My eyelids flutter as I blink back tears.

“Of course not. I’ll get you a tour guide.”

I don’t want a tour guide. I want to wallow in paradise with my new husband. An hour ago, we were snorkeling in the water swirling in the lagoon below our villa. Pushing my back against one of the columns, Tucker had untied my bikini bottom and hiked my legs around his hips. We made love to the rhythm of the tide. “You’re handing me off to a stranger. Great, thanks.”

He shifts in his chair, expelling a disgruntled huff. “Do you have any friends there? Maybe someone from school?”

Tucker’s question isn’t an unreasonable one. Worthington University attracts students from all over the globe. “No one I’ve kept in touch with.” Besides Tucker and, not by choice, Wren, I’ve purposely put my years at WU behind me. Except for my work with TeenCharter, of course.

In the distance, kayakers row across the sea, their oars streaking in a graceful arc before disappearing back into the water again. Behind them, Mount Otemanu rises majestically from the mainland, green and lush against the setting sun.

“Do you want another drink?”

I’ve barely touched the one I have. “No,” I answer, the word sharp and quick.

Tucker takes another sip of his. “This is my chance, Poppy. My chance to meet people without…”

I wait for him to continue, finally prompting, “Without…”

“Without anyone from the office looking over my shoulder.”

Why is Tucker meeting people he doesn’t want anyone else to know about? I wonder, although that’s not what I ask. “Who looks over your shoulder?”

A sound rumbles from his throat, like a strangled grunt. “Who doesn’t? My father. Everyone else who wants to take his place, but knows they’ll have to get rid of me first. It’s like walking a goddamn tightrope every day.”

I feel myself softening. It can’t be easy for Tucker, always having to be perfect. It’s why he wants me to be perfect, too. Image means everything to his parents and their friends. Maybe most of all to their rivals in the moneyed world of the Manhattan elite. The least I can do is be supportive. If he wants to go to Indonesia, I’ll go too. With a smile.

I try one out now, turning to my new husband once it is steady on my face. “I guess I can manage a day or two without you.”

But Tucker isn’t looking at me. His phone is back in his hand. “I have a great idea.” He taps the screen a few times and brings it to his ear. “Your sister is in-between jobs again, right?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Sadie is always in-between something. Jobs, boyfriends, apartments.

“Sadie, hey. Did I wake you?” He pauses, chuckles. “This won’t take long. What would you think about joining Poppy in Indonesia for a couple of days?”

I hear an answering screech, which I assume is a yes, and wait for her to ask the obvious question—why is she being invited to join her sister and her new brother-in-law on their honeymoon? But Sadie doesn’t ask. “Great. My assistant will call you with the details.”

He sets down the phone, a satisfied grin stretching across his lips. “Problem solved. She can fly down with Wren—”

“Wren needs to make her introductions personally?”

“I want her to. And Wren’s closest friend from boarding school is the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in Indonesia. It looks good for her to be here with me.”

My eyes slide back to his phone, wishing I had the nerve to toss it into the Pacific Ocean. “Fine.”

Something else occurs to me. “I didn’t realize you had Sadie’s contact info.”

“You’re my wife,” Tucker says with a nonchalant shrug. “I have all of your contacts.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “You do?”

He rattles his glass, slivers of ice clinking against the sides. I stare at him, wondering if he’s doing it so that I’ll get up and refresh his drink. I remain motionless, waiting for an answer.

The sun dips lower, the shadow of the mountain falling over the kayakers. I know they are there, but I can barely see them anymore.

“Of course. I downloaded all of your information after we got engaged. I didn’t tell you?” Tucker’s handsome face shows not the slightest trace of remorse.

Is this normal? Do all husbands disregard their wife’s privacy?

I have no idea. I’ve only been a wife for a few days. I don’t even have any married friends to ask. My closest friend is my sister. Beyond that, I only have a few casual acquaintances through work. And it’s not like I can reach out to Gavin. “No, you didn’t,” I say.