Nothing Without You

by Monica Murphy

  Tucker sends me another text.

  It was great seeing you yesterday.

  I press my lips together to keep my smile contained, ignoring the flurry of butterflies set off by reading his simple words.

  Deciding to keep it strictly professional, I compose the most business-like text I can think of.

  I’m glad I could be of assistance for your parents’ party.

  Aw come on Maise. We’re old friends. You can be friendlier than that.

  I’m being perfectly friendly, I shoot back.

  He sends me a laughing/crying face emoji in response.

  “Who are you texting?”

  My head shoots up, my eyes wide as I stare at my sister. “Um, no one.”

  “Liar.” Brooke moves closer, craning her head to try and see my phone screen, but I never did type in Tucker’s name, so just his number appears. “Who is it?”

  “I’ll never tell,” I say, running around the kitchen so I’m standing on the other side of the island.

  “It’s Tucker, isn’t it?” Brooke sounds triumphant and again I’m consumed with the need to smack her. What’s up with my violent feelings toward my sister tonight?

  My phone buzzes and I glance down.

  Not friendly enough for me.

  He adds a winking emoji face to the text.

  Okay. It feels like he’s flirting with me. And I want to…

  Flirt back.

  How friendly are you wanting me?

  I send the text before I can overthink it.

  “Maisey!” My sister is yelling at me, something she rarely does. “Who are you talking to?”

  “Fine, it’s Tucker,” I say with a sigh, waiting on his response. I’m a jumble of nerves, anticipation coursing through my veins as I wait.

  And wait and wait.

  “Are you going to hook up with him while he’s here?” Brooke asks, sounding downright hopeful.

  “I don’t plan on it,” I tell her, because that’s the absolute truth.

  But maybe…it wouldn’t be such a bad idea?

  Okay, clearly I’ve lost my mind.

  Another buzz and I read his response, unable to contain the smile that spreads across my face.

  As friendly as you want to be pretty girl

  Oh. Swoon. He used to call me that all the time when we were together. Pretty girl. I should be offended. I’m a grown woman, not some silly little teenage girl who hangs on Tucker McCloud’s every word.

  Yet I can’t help the giddy feeling deep inside me at him calling me that. At the idea of us…what? Messing around? Having a fling? Getting back together?

  We can’t get back together. This is all temporary. He’ll leave eventually. My home is here. His is in San Francisco. He has this entirely different life, a life that doesn’t come close to resembling mine, which means we’d never work. And he knows it.

  I know it too.

  Another text from Tucker appears.

  Have you had dinner yet?

  No.

  Want to have dinner with me?

  I contemplate his invitation, ignoring Brooke, who’s going on about reuniting with old loves and how it can work out no matter what, but she and Brody are different. Brody was willing to change his entire life for her to make it work.

  Tucker doesn’t even have that option. He’s a professional football player. Why would he toss away his career to move back to his hometown to what? Hang out with me? There are no guarantees in life, meaning there’s no guarantee we’d work. I can’t imagine he’d throw his entire life and career away to try one more time with me.

  I wouldn’t want him to do that. It’s asking for too much.

  Brooke is suddenly standing right next to me, reading over my conversation with Tucker. “You should say yes. Go to dinner with him,” she encourages gently and I send her a worried look.

  “Really?” I almost want her to tell me not to do it. So I can blame someone else on my decision.

  Deep down, though, I want to go to dinner with him. I want to catch up, relive old memories, laugh and talk about people we used to know in school. I want to hear what his life is like since he started playing for the NFL, and I want to know if he’s truly happy or not. I want to know all the things that make Tucker who he is now.

  My phone rings, startling us both, and we start to laugh.

  “Guess he’s anxious to know your answer,” Brooke says when she sees his number flash on the screen.

  The moment I answer his call, Tucker’s deep voice is right there, murmuring into my ear, making me shiver. “Come on, Maise. Go to dinner with me.”

  “All right,” I say, my voice soft as I turn my back on Brooke.

  I don’t want her looking at me while I’m talking to Tucker. This moment, this short conversation feels too big, too intimate, to share it with anyone else but the two of us.

  “Really? You want to?” He sounds surprised.

  And excited.

  I start to laugh all over again. “Yes, I really want to.”

  “Can I come pick you up in, say, an hour?”

  “That sounds perfect.”

  Chapter Six

  Tucker

  I take the fastest shower known to man the moment I end the call with Maisey. I shave my face, wash my hair, then actually blow that shit dry because I want to look perfect for this girl tonight.

  The girl who used to be my girl.

  I change my shirt three times until I get it right and end up annoyed with myself. Slap on some cologne and immediately think I put on too much, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. Ignore the phone calls that come first from Georgia, then from Stella, then from Georgia one more time, who ends up leaving me a voicemail.

  My sisters are complete pains in my ass, but what else is new?

  I listen to the voicemail and she’s asking about the cake, and the party, and the costume idea, and she sounds annoyed by the entire thing.

  Deleting her voicemail, I tell myself I’ll call her tomorrow.

  I finish getting ready way faster than I thought and to help kill time, I start pacing my hotel room, my gaze snagging on the window and the gorgeous lake view. There are still a few boats on the water, and it makes me think I should borrow my brother’s boat and take it out for the day.

  Maybe I could take Maisey with me.

  Pacing the hotel room only lasts for so long until I finally decide fuck it and leave the hotel, hop into my rental car, and haul ass over to Maisey’s place. She texted me the address earlier, and when I pull up in front of the duplex, I find that it’s in the older part of town. But it’s been kept up nicely, with mature trees providing plenty of shade and a lush green lawn in the front. I’m fifteen minutes early from my “pick you up in an hour” promise, but I don’t care.

  I’m too anxious to get this night started.

  The door swings open before I can even knock and Maisey is standing there in a pretty white sundress that accentuates her golden skin, her lips curved in a welcoming smile. “You’re early.”

  “Yet you’re ready,” I say, letting my gaze linger.

  Damn, she’s pretty.

  She laughs and pulls the door shut behind her, not even giving me a glimpse of what’s inside. I’m sort of disappointed, considering I’m curious about everything that makes up today’s Maisey. I want to see where she lives, where she eats, where she sleeps.

  Yeah, the perv buried deep inside of me definitely wants to see her bed.

  “I’m ready because I’m starving,” she says as she locks her front door.

  “Where do you want to eat?” I ask as we start down the walkway, headed toward my rental car.

  “Wherever you want to go,” she says with a slight shrug. The movement causes me to zero in on her slender shoulders, and I’m hit with the sudden urge to kiss them.

  Slow your roll, McCloud. At least get the woman some dinner first.

  “Is that one steak place still open?” I ask.

  “The place where you took me f
or winter formal? Yeah, it is,” she says with a wistful smile.

  Winter Formal. My senior year, her junior year. Where I thought I was going to get lucky and finally, finally have sex with the girl I was in love with.

  Instead, Maisey had one too many beers—and she only had two—and proceeded to throw up for the rest of the night. Such a lightweight.

  “You’re remembering when I threw up, huh?” she says, amusement filling her tone.

  I hit the unlock button on the keyless remote and open the passenger side door for her. “I am, actually.”

  “Talk about a disastrous end to a fun night.” She gets into the car, smiling up at me as I’m about to shut the door for her. “I still don’t really like beer.”

  “You don’t say.” My voice is sarcastic, making her laugh.

  I like this, I think as I jog around the front of the car and open the door, slipping into the driver’s seat. I like that we have a past, a shared history that we can reminisce about. I don’t want to focus on our breakup, but it’s definitely fun to talk about the good times.

  Maisey and I? We shared a lot of good times together.

  “I didn’t throw up at my senior prom,” she tells me as I start the car.

  “Who’d you go with?” I ask, my voice tight. Shit.

  Clearly I need to relax.

  “Jimmy Pearce.” She smiles. “We had a lot of fun.”

  White hot jealousy rips through me and I’m tempted to go find stupid Jimmy Pearce and tear his heart out of his chest.

  Dramatic much?

  “We were just friends, though,” she continues, staring out the passenger side window as I start driving through her neighborhood, headed for the steakhouse. “His girlfriend had a track meet the same day—it was the state finals. No way could she skip out on that to go to a stupid prom.”

  The relief that floods me at hearing the word girlfriend is huge. And makes me feel stupid. Why should I be jealous of her senior prom date, considering I’m the one who broke up with her in the first place?

  “Did she win any events?” I ask.

  “She did.” Her smile is faint and I try to concentrate on the road and not stare at her, but it’s difficult. “And she went to college on a track scholarship. Almost a full ride. You remember Kaya Owen?”

  “I do.” Cute. Long legs. Smart. Fast. “So. You didn’t have a, uh, boyfriend your senior year?”

  “No, I didn’t. I decided I wanted to be free my last year in school. Didn’t want anyone to tie me down.” She glances over at me, her gaze contemplative. “You have any serious girlfriends these last few years?”

  “Serious? Nah.” I shake my head. “I don’t have time for anything serious.” During college, I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I could get any girl I wanted, any time I wanted her. I sound like I’m bragging, but it’s true.

  “I figured you’d be married by now,” she says.

  “Funny, I thought the same thing about you.”

  I worried about it off and on, especially the last couple of years. Maybe it’s because so many people we went to high school with started posting wedding pics on Instagram and Facebook. Or baby announcements. There’ve been a couple of divorces already, but I think that’s pretty common.

  “I’ve been concentrating on building my business,” she tells me. “And there aren’t a lot of eligible bachelors here in Cunningham Falls. Most of the good ones have already been snapped up.”

  “Your cakes are truly beautiful, Maise,” I tell her, hoping she hears the sincerity in my voice. I mean every word I say. I almost feel proud of her success, like I even had a hand in it, which I most definitely did not.

  But still. That’s my first love, my high school sweetheart who can create such beauty. It’s pretty freaking amazing.

  “Thank you.” Her voice is soft and I chance a quick glance at her to find she’s watching me. “That means a lot, coming from you.”

  “Really?” Why should she care about my opinion? I’m just the teenage jackass who broke her heart.

  She nods. “I’ve always cared about what you thought about me, even when I was mad at you. And I’ve been mad at you for a while.” We both laugh, though it dies quick. “It’s kind of weird, being here with you tonight.”

  My stomach twists with nerves. “Weird in a bad way, or weird in a good way?”

  “Definitely in a good way.” She tucks her hair behind her ear, exposing the tiny pearl dotting her lobe. “It’ll be nice, catching up over dinner. Don’t you think?”

  “Sure,” I say distractedly as I turn onto the main street that cuts through the busy downtown.

  I’m not only looking forward to catching up on all those years we’ve lost, I also just want to spend time with her.

  Looking at her.

  Listening to her voice.

  Fighting the urge to touch her.

  Dreaming about her naked.

  In my bed.

  Maybe, just maybe she’ll let my dreams come true tonight.

  Chapter Seven

  Maisey

  It’s so strange, how you can spend time with a person after not seeing him for years, and it’s like we were never apart.

  That’s how it feels tonight with Tucker, sitting at the nicest restaurant in town, enjoying our drinks, our appetizers, me listening with rapt attention to Tucker’s stories about his experiences with the NFL. He’s played for three different teams, dealt with all sorts of personalities, and he’s a master storyteller.

  I can envision these men he’s talking about—how one of them threw a major tantrum after every game, whether they lost or won. Another would always seek out the kindest looking older woman in the crowd, tell her she reminded him of the grandmother he’d lost, and give her a signed team jersey.

  The tantrum story made me laugh. The grandma story made me a little emotional, and I had to force myself to not start crying like a baby.

  And Tucker? He just plain makes me happy.

  “Enough about me,” he says once our server takes our salad plates away. I’m already stuffed, and we haven’t even started on the main course yet. “Tell me about you. What have you been doing with yourself since high school? Did you go to college? How did you start making cakes? I don’t remember you baking much when we were together.”

  My heart clenches at thinking of us together, and me never baking. The only thing I remember making with Tucker were those Halloween-themed sugar cookies that you throw on a baking sheet and cook for ten minutes. And those definitely don’t count.

  “I was a little lost after high school. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, and I was working at the market. You know, the one with the donuts?”

  He nods, somehow looking hungry even though we’ve already eaten so much food. “I dreamed of those donuts every so often over the years. They’re something you can’t ever forget.”

  Tucker is so freaking dramatic sometimes, I think with a giggle. “Yeah, well, I started frosting the donuts. And I was having so much fun, I’ll have to show you my photos sometime. Anyway, my ideas were creative enough that they moved me to the cake section of the bakery, and I started decorating them. You know, the standard birthday cakes with white frosting and pink roses in the corners?” When Tucker nods, I continue. “When I got bored with that, then I graduated to wedding cakes, though the market didn’t do too many of those. Every time I got to work on one though, I was always so happy. I just let my creative juices flow and came up with some pretty awesome stuff.”

  “That’s cool,” he says with a nod, leaning back in his chair, and I can’t help but admire him.

  Did I mention how handsome he looks tonight? Dark rinse jeans, white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing those strong, muscular forearms. His light brown hair is extra messy tonight, flopping over his forehead. My fingers itch to push it back, test the silky softness.

  I can’t stop staring at him.

  And for some reason, it seems he can’t stop staring at me either.
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  “I started thinking I wanted to go to culinary school, but there wasn’t one close enough, and they were all so expensive. I took some business courses at the local community college, but I barely lasted there two years. It was expensive, and I’d rather spend my time working and making money.” I shrug, hating how inadequate I suddenly feel. It has nothing to do with Tucker either. This is my own problem to deal with. A problem that’s absolutely ridiculous, considering I am a business owner, and a decently successful one at that.

  “Not all of us are meant to go on to college,” he observes.

  “I wish I had though,” I say with a sigh, bringing my wineglass to my lips and drinking the last sip. “That’s my one regret.”

  He raises a brow. “Your one regret is that you didn’t go to college?”

  I nod, feeling helpless. “I was so jealous of everyone leaving, of everyone doing something with their lives, and getting out of Cunningham Falls. Yet here I am, stuck in the same town I grew up in, never really moving ahead.”

  “Are you serious right now?” Tucker’s voice is sharp and he leans forward, his intense gaze locking with mine. “You’re describing yourself like you’re some sort of—loser.”

  His words make me flinch. “I don’t think I’m a loser.”

  “Then why say it like that? ‘Oh, I stayed here. I’ve done nothing with my life. Wah wah.’” He points a finger at me, his expression stern. “You’re fucking amazing, Maise, and don’t you forget it. You have your own business, you make your own hours, you bake cakes that look like masterpieces, and you’re gorgeous. So what if you ended up staying in Cunningham Falls? Our hometown is beautiful, and it’s become a thriving community, which only helps you and your business in the long run. There’s no need for you to have a pity party, baby. You should be damn proud of yourself.”

  I blink at him, shocked by his mini rant. Shocked and a little bit…

  Aroused.

  I uncross and re-cross my legs, startled by the sudden ache there. Who knew Tucker defending me would be such a turn-on?

  “You’re right,” I tell him, my voice faint. “I don’t know why I was acting so pitiful just now. My life is pretty great.”