by Elle Kennedy
“We practice criminal law,” Kevin tells me. “My section, we exclusively handle wrongful conviction cases. Mostly pro bono work.”
I lean forward. “See, that’s fascinating. I’ve known since I started law school I wanted to work in criminal law. Something like that must be incredibly satisfying.”
“It’s more disappointment than not, if I’m being honest. We have a thorough vetting process, only taking cases we sincerely believe we can prove should be overturned. There’s a high bar, however. Courts are often reluctant. Every defeat, though, motivates us to try harder on the next one. Each case is long and arduous, but yes, it’s certainly rewarding.” He smiles at me. “I imagine a young woman like yourself is quite familiar with hard work. I can’t even fathom raising a child while in law school. I barely made it through Harvard myself without having a nervous breakdown, and that was child-free.”
“It wasn’t easy,” I admit. “Tucker was a tremendous support.”
“She’s being modest,” he insists. “Even before we met, she worked two jobs putting herself through college. And then afterward, she was up every morning and night with our daughter, doing feedings and diapers and all that while highlighting textbooks and writing papers. It was exhausting just watching her.”
“You’re two rather extraordinary young people,” Kevin says, as Bruce tops up our glasses. “Not everyone is as motivated or industrious at your age. I certainly wasn’t. Took me a few years to find my way.”
“I think having our daughter really encouraged both of us to make the best life for her that we can,” Tucker answers, clasping my hand under the table. “We want to give her everything. Make sure she’s always taken care of.”
“Stop,” Bruce groans. “You’re adorable. I can’t stand it.”
During dessert, Bruce and Tucker bro out over fitness stuff. Kevin’s eyes about roll out of his head when the two men leave the table to start comparing bodyweight resistance techniques. Tucker’s in amazing shape, and although he resists the urge to pull his shirt off, Bruce notices and remarks on my husband’s incredible abs and biceps. As if anyone could not. I don’t take it personally when Bruce blatantly flirts with him while Kevin and I talk law over our mango mousse. For what it’s worth, Kevin seems otherwise unfazed by his flirtatious partner. He’s a good sport.
“We’ll be here for another few days,” I let them know as they walk us out after a fantastic meal. “I’m sure we’ll run into one another again, but it’d be nice to return the favor. Not sure we can come up with a spread this great, but drinks at our place maybe?”
“Just point me toward the ice bucket,” Bruce says, kissing my cheek.
On the walk home under the moonlight, Tucker takes my hand, drawing shapes with his thumb across my knuckles. “You have fun?”
“Definitely.” Then I remember something, and my mood dampens slightly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were bored with the bars?”
That gets me a shrug. “I’m not bored, exactly. Just restless sometimes.”
“Still, you should’ve said something.”
“I didn’t say anything because it’s really not a big deal. And I didn’t see the point in distracting you during your last year at Harvard.”
“You’ve been feeling this way for a year?” I swear, I love this man with all my heart, but would it kill him not to be the strong, supportive type all the time?
Tucker squeezes my hand. “I’m not feeling any sort of way. But see, this is why I didn’t bring it up. You would’ve just tried to fix a minor problem, and we both know your stress levels can’t afford to add anything else to your plate. It’s already damn full, darlin.’”
My husband being unhappy with his work doesn’t sound like a “minor problem.” But Tucker doesn’t allow me to dwell on it. He stops walking and brings my hand up to his lips, kissing my knuckles.
“Did I mention how hot you look tonight?” he drawls.
“Are you trying to distract me from your work stuff?”
“No, I’m trying to compliment my hot wife.”
Sensing he’s not going to budge, I decide to let it go. When he’s ready to talk about it, he’ll talk about it. For now, I’m just going to enjoy this night out with my husband. It’s been a long time since we spent an evening with other adults without having to constantly run to check on Jamie. I’d forgotten what it was like to be us as a couple, not just parents.
“Well, it’s about time you did.” I mock pout. “I went to all the trouble of picking out this dress, and you couldn’t be bothered to compliment it?” I have to admit, the long, linen wrap dress I’d chosen does amazing things for my post-pregnancy boobs.
“What a selfish bastard,” he agrees, gripping my hips to walk me back until I’m up against a palm tree. “Neglecting to tell you how gorgeous you look.”
“Such a bad boy,” I whisper.
Tucker kisses me, the flavor of wine still on his tongue. On this sandy path through the wild green shrubs and tall palms between our two houses, a warm breeze creeps over my skin. I hear only the waves nearby and the insect songs. It’s secluded, though not exactly private.
“I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he mumbles against my mouth. His hands skim my body to squeeze my ass. “You’re beautiful.”
I tug on his hand. “We’re almost at the house.”
“I want to make you come now.”
Oh boy. When he talks like that, I can’t form coherent thoughts. There are so many facets to John Tucker, and I can honestly say this primal, alpha side of him is one of my favorites. Tucker is so agreeable most of the time, so happy to ignore his own needs and wants in service of mine and Jamie’s.
But this Tucker knows precisely what he wants and how to get it. The night we met, he seduced me with such effortlessness, I hardly saw it coming. One minute we were flirting at a college sports bar, the next we were naked in his truck while he whispered dirty words to me.
My fingers slide through his hair and grip the back of his neck as I return his kiss, deeper, pulling him closer. He pushes the opening of my dress apart to slip his hand between my legs, dipping his fingers below my skimpy panties. The first brush of his touch against my warm, needy flesh makes me entirely forget about where we are or the rough trunk of the tree at my back. I part my legs farther and encourage him to keep going, rocking against his palm.
“I love you,” he whispers, pressing two fingers inside me. “You’re so gorgeous.”
I don’t really hear him. I’m too entranced by what he does to my body. Biting my lip and hanging onto him to stay on my feet. I’m so sensitive that it doesn’t take long before my muscles clench and my legs being to shake. I muffle my moans into his shoulder, shuddering through an orgasm that leaves me feeling light-headed.
Eyes shut, I’m still breathing heavy when I hear a snap above us.
My eyelids flick open just a heartbeat before something heavy cracks me on the top of the head. I experience a split second of searing pain before everything goes black.
28
Tucker
Day 4
“Hey. Hey, Sabrina.” Cradling her head in my lap, I gently rub her cheek, stroke her forehead.
She’s motionless for so long, I consider carrying her back to the house, but I’m afraid to move her.
“Wake up, darlin’. Come on.”
Finally, her eyelids flutter. Then her lips part. With a painful groan, she stirs in my lap and peers up at me. It takes a moment for her eyes to focus.
“There you are,” I say, letting out a sigh of relief.
“What happened?” She reaches up and feels the top of her head. Instantly flinches, hissing.
“You, uhh…” I clear my throat. Now that I know she hasn’t slipped into a coma, I’m having trouble choking back a laugh. “A coconut fell on your head.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“Seriously?” Moaning, she covers her face with her hands. “For fuck’s sake.”
“You okay? Finge
rs and toes?”
She gives them a wiggle, looking down to confirm they’re all moving.
“Yep, good.”
“Let’s try getting you up.” I give her my hand and steady her as we stand, but she immediately goes a little sideways.
“Whoa. Yeah, no.” Grabbing her head, she leans on me, her legs wobbling. “Everything’s spinning.”
“I got you.”
I scoop her up in my arms and proceed down the dark, sandy path. Back at the house, I carry her upstairs to the master suite, where I help her change out of her dress and put her in bed.
“Let me check the binder for a phone number to a doctor,” I say. “We should get you checked out.”
“I’m okay,” she insists, albeit weakly.
“You could have a concussion.”
“I don’t think so. And even if I do, they’re not going to do anything for it other than monitor me every hour and ask me what day it is. We can do that here.”
“Fine. But if I get even the slightest sense you’re concussed, we’re finding a doctor.”
“Fine. Could you grab me some ibuprofen from my bag? I want to get ahead of the migraine that’s in store for me.”
I duck into the bathroom, returning a moment later with a glass of water and some painkillers for what is going to be a hell of a bump on her head tomorrow.
“Don’t laugh at me,” Sabrina mumbles afterward, tucked in tight and head elevated on two pillows.
“I would never.”
“I know you,” she says miserably. “I don’t want to hear a sound.”
“I swear.”
Sabrina drifts off while I’m getting undressed to take a shower. With the bathroom door closed, I cover my mouth and let out a muffled laugh under the sound of the running water. Because that shit was hilarious. Not that my wife got hurt, but come on. A coconut falls on her head and knocks her the fuck out? I release another wave of laughter against my forearm. Jesus. For anyone else, the odds would be astronomical. But for us? Just par for the course on this trip.
The next morning, Sabrina is awake early. I’m waiting with water and more painkillers when her eyes peel open.
“Close the shades,” she grumbles, turning away from the windows. “My head’s killing me.”
The room darkens as I slide them shut. “What day is it?”
“Wednesday, I think?” She waits for me to confirm or deny.
I just shrug. “Honestly, I don’t know myself.”
We both grin.
“What’s our daughter’s name?”
“James. Jamie for short. Your mom’s name is Gail. My favorite professor at Harvard was Professor Kingston. My favorite color is green.” She sits up and holds out her hand for the pills. “Pretty sure I’m not concussed.”
“Can I see your head?” I ask after she swallows the meds.
Without a word, she lets me check her scalp. “What’s the prognosis?” she asks with a sigh.
“Yeah, you’ve got a pretty good bump, but I don’t see any open skin. I just want to—” I press down gently around the swollen area.
“Ow! Dick.” Sabrina smacks my hand away.
“I don’t think you have a fracture.”
“Jesus. Warn me next time.”
I leave her with the TV remote while I make us some bacon and eggs for breakfast. All the plans we’d made before we got here—snorkeling, off-roading, taking a boat out to explore private coves—have gone to hell since this island is apparently trying to kill us. It’s like the moment we left Boston, we’ve been in a bad Final Destination sequel.
“We’re terrible at this,” she says later as we’re finishing breakfast downstairs. Sabrina pops a strawberry into her mouth and chews glumly.
Isa brought us fresh fruit again this morning, along with a basket of freshly baked croissants. I swear our housekeeper has invisibility as a superpower. She glides in and out of this house without making a single sound.
“Terrible at what?” I ask, clearing our plates.
“Vacation. I feel like we’ve spent most of the trip inside.”
“Yeah, because this place is out to get us.”
“I’m sorry.” Sabrina carries our empty glasses over and sets them next to me at the sink. “I know we were talking about going out on the boat today, but I’m worried my head will be spinning the entire time.”
“Hey, no.” I grab her around the waist, kiss her forehead. “Take all the time you need. I’m more concerned with you feeling better. I was the one laid up a couple days ago because of my leg.” Which, by the way, still looks heinous. But at least the pain’s gone away.
While we’re cleaning up, voices waft into the kitchen from the back deck. “Anyone home?”
Recognizing Bruce’s voice, I call out, “In here.”
A moment later, our neighbors stroll in through the open glass doors and cross the dining room toward us. In his polo, khaki shorts, and panama hat, Kevin looks like he’s ready for a day of sailing. Bruce, meanwhile, wears a tight tank top that reveals his oiled-up arms and very tight swim trunks.
“We’re heading out to do some deep-sea fishing,” Bruce says, greeting us with a big smile.
“We’ve got room for two more,” Kevin offers.
I shake my head in regret. “As amazing as that sounds, I think we’re staying in today,” I tell them. “Sabrina’s a little under the weather.”
“Oh, no. Really?” Kevin looks concerned. “I’ve got some echinacea and tea that might help.”
“It’s not that kind of ailment,” I say, while Sabrina glares at me. “We had a little mishap on the way back from your place last night.”
“Mishap?” Kevin’s shrewd gaze does a sweep of Sabrina.
Mortified, she huffs and looks away.
I fight hard not to laugh. “Coconut fell out of the sky and smacked her right on top of the head. Knocked her out cold for almost a minute.”
Bruce gasps. “Oh my God!”
“You’re kidding?” Kevin notices Sabrina’s murderous expression and chuckles softly. “Not kidding, I see.”
“You poor thing,” his partner says sympathetically. “You all right?”
“I’m fine,” she mutters. “Just a headache.”
“It’s more common around here than you’d think,” Kevin says. “You’re lucky it wasn’t serious.”
He sounds sincere, but I think he says it just to make her feel better.
“Anyway, we’re gonna stay in today,” I say. “But we appreciate the offer.”
Sabrina touches my arm, her features softening. “No, you should go. There’s no reason we both have to miss out.”
“I don’t mind. I’d rather be here if you need anything.”
“I’ll be fine. I’m just going to hang out by the pool, maybe, and FaceTime Jamie. Probably take a long nap too. If I need anything when you’re gone, I can text Isa.”
“There,” Bruce says, nodding. “It’s settled.”
“Yes,” Kevin tells me. “Come on. It’s going to be a beautiful day on the water. And we won’t be back too late.”
With Sabrina insisting, I eventually capitulate and take them up on it. Getting out on the water sounds great. And truthfully, the thought of watching any more goddamn movies on this beach vacation makes me want to gouge my eyes out.
“Meet you on our dock in five?” Kevin says.
“I’ll be right there.”
“Keep applying sunscreen,” Sabrina reminds me after the men leave. She tails me to our bedroom, watching me get ready. “And try not to get impaled by a marlin or whatever.”
“You too. The sunscreen part.” I wink at her. “And don’t fall asleep under any trees.”
Out on the boat, the fishing is great. We manage to land a few grouper and mahi-mahi. A couple of yellowtail snapper. It feels traitorous to even think it, but it’s probably the best day I’ve had since we got here. Spending the afternoon with some beers, feeling the ocean breeze on my face, just shooting the shit. Bruce an
d Kevin are good guys. And other than a close call when I nearly caught a hook to the face, I manage to return to dry land unscathed.
“Looks like the missus came out to greet you,” Bruce jokes as we stride down the long wooden dock toward the shore.
I follow his gaze and spot Sabrina sitting on one of our beach chairs. She’s wearing her oversized sunglasses, with her dark hair arranged in a loose side braid and her nose buried in her thriller.
“We’re going to grill up that mahi-mahi for dinner,” Kevin says, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “You and Sabrina are welcome to join us.”
My stomach growls at that. It’s only four o’clock, a bit early for dinner, but the lobster salad and breadsticks we had on their boat hadn’t filled me up. “Let me go ask the missus.”
Sabrina smiles at my approach. “Hey! How was it?”
“Fucking awesome,” I admit. “The guys asked if we want to—” I stop in horror. “What the hell happened to you?”
Sabrina, who’d been in the process of twisting around to tuck her book in her beach bag, eyes me in confusion. “What? What do you mean?”
I tug her off the chair and turn her around. The brief glimpse I’d caught of her back hadn’t misled me. Now that I have a full, clear view, there’s no mistaking the sunburn. Her skin is nearly the same shade of red as her bikini strings.
Sighing, I poke her lightly between the shoulder blades.
“Ow! What was that for?”
“You’re sunburnt. It looks bad, darlin’. Didn’t you put on sunblock?”
Her nose scrunches, and she looks away while she thinks for a moment. “I fell asleep for a bit after I got off the phone with Jamie. I might have forgotten.”
Sighing, I just look at her.
“Don’t give me that Dad look,” she warns. “Because you’re looking a bit red yourself.”
“I’m fine.”
Eyes narrowed, she lifts the hem of my T-shirt and smacks my stomach.
I flinch. “Fuck, Sabrina. Christ.” It feels like she threw scalding water at me.
