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I find my bravery this time. “You don’t have to keep asking, Tucker.”

After a day at the trampoline park where the boys gave me three heart attacks and too many laughs to count, they’re out like a light when we put them in their PJs and then into the car for Johnny to take them to Avery’s house for the night.

Tomorrow’s a big day for both of us, so we keep the workout light, then head to bed early.

I’m too keyed up, I have no clue how I’m going to manage to fall asleep considering Tucker probably also has about a million things on his mind.

“I didn’t tell Hannah,” I blurt out.

We’re in our now-usual position, me the little spoon and Tuck the big one, but my announcement is enough for Tucker to take all his warmth away, and then the bedside lamp is on and he’s pulling a little on my shoulder so I’ll roll to my back.

“What?” he demands, completely deadpan.

“I know,” I whine and scrub both hands down my face. “I know I should’ve told her about the interview⁠—”

“Oh, that,” he says, sounding relieved, and that has me rebooting.

“Oh my god, you thought I meant about us!” I bark out a laugh before my brain has a chance to start overthinking, but that doesn’t last long. “I mean, I wasn’t planning on telling her about us until we⁠—”

I clamp my mouth shut.

What the fuck was I about to say?!

Until we’re official?

Until we actually talk about this?

Until we figure out what the fuck we’re doing?

Until we find out where I’ll be in three months?

All of those are mortifying options—and yeah, it might be foolish and immature to be so scared of talking about this, but I think I’ve earned some immature actions considering the fucking year I’ve had.

“I was just surprised because we hadn’t talked about it.” Every word comes out rushed, but then he takes a deep breath even while I still can’t look him in the eyes because I might still be mortified. “For a moment there I thought you’d been wanting to tell her and holding back because of me, and I don’t want you to not tell her if you want to, you know?”

It takes me a moment to decipher that sentence, but when I think I’ve figured it out, I sigh.

“Okay, so first, no. I’m barely able to wrap my own head around this. I have not been wanting to talk about it with my sister whose husband also works for you. I have been talking about it with my therapist, and of course if I was going to tell Hannah, I would at the very least give you a heads up.”

Tucker collapses on the mattress, also looking up at the ceiling.

“Okay,” he says simply, but he still sounds just a little bit panicked. Until he breathes out hard a few times, then he turns to face me. “So why didn’t you tell her about the interview?”

I swear ants could be crawling all over me with how twitchy that question makes me.

I shrug as much as I can.

“Cause I don’t want to get her hopes up.” I turn, facing him, and finally admit, “I love her, but I can’t take her expectations on top of my own right now.”

“That makes sense,” he murmurs. “My sisters also don’t know what I’m about to do tomorrow.”

“Why?” I ask, just as quietly. “I mean, I have no idea what you’re going to do. Does anyone?”

“No, no one. These fucking things are so secretive, always, I don’t know if anyone outside that room will ever know what’s going to go down. But if it does, then there will be a lot of opinions.”

I think I understand.

“You’ve never struck me as someone who cares about the opinions of anyone who’s not your family or close to you.”