Page 101 of I Wish You Were Mine

He grins. “Consider it done. I’ll get the ball rolling tomorrow.”

“You work fast,” Mom says.

Tuck laughs. “I just know what I want, and I go after it.”

Tuck is clearly wooing my parents, and he is doing a damn good job of it. Not twenty minutes into our conversation, and he has them eating out of his palm.

He’s also all over me, surrounding me with his warmth and his affection. In the past, guys who did this made me feel suffocated. Like I was being pawed at.

But Tuck makes me feel safe. And yeah, a little proud. Somehow I managed to land this gorgeous, successful, delicious smelling man.

Not only that. He’s quite clearly staking his claim, touching me in public. Telling the world I’m his.

Showing my parents how well he takes care of me.

It’s heady stuff, almost wonderful enough to overpowerthe anxiety that buzzes inside my chest like a nest of trapped bees.

Almost.

“I like that you know your mind, Tuck.” Dad lifts his glass. “A toast to the two of you. This was a surprise, certainly, but sounds like y’all are real happy together, which makes me happy too.”

Mom raises her glass. “I’ll toast to that.”

The bees in my chest go apeshit. I glance nervously at Tuck. He raises his brows the tiniest bit.Do we tell them now?

I honestly don’t know. I guess I could take a sip of champagne. But then Mom and Dad might judge me when I do get the nerve to tell them. Plus—and youknowyou’re not feeling well when you say this—the thought of drinking champagne is unappetizing in the extreme.

But I’m not ready.

Then again, will I ever be prepared to let down my parents?

To tell them I fucked up and the dreams they had for me are being put on hold?

I lift my champagne with fingers that shake. Mom and Dad are ebullient, big smiles and lit up eyes.

My own eyes burn. I blink, hard, and watch as my parents tip back their glasses to drink.

Tuck, though, waits with his glass poised midair. He searches my face, an indent appearing between his eyebrows.

Mom immediately knows something is up. “Maren, are you okay? You’re not drinking your champagne. Neither are you, Tuck. Do y’all not like it?”

“I think it’s good,” Dad says.

Just tell them. Get the words out.

Tuck massages my leg underneath the table.

“You all right?” he asks gently.

I set my glass down. Taking a deep breath, I screw mycourage to the sticking place and say, “So Tuck and I have some news.”

Mom goes still. Dad blinks.

I am ninety-nine percent certain my face is red as a tomato.

“Well.” I swallow and manage to look at my parents. “We’re going to have a baby.”

twenty-two

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