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“I know what I want.” My voice shakes.
Dad looks me in the eye. “You’re young. Chances are,you’re going to change your mind. Listen to me when I say you should reconsider your decision.”
I’m gripped by a sense of immense guilt. I feel like they’re talking aboutme—about their own decision to have me so young, and how much harder it made their lives.
Tuck goes rigid beside me. He wraps his hand around my nape, his grip warm, firm. “With all due respect, sir, we’ve made our decision. We’re having this baby, whether you like it or not.”
Tuck’s voice is like distant thunder. Not loud, but somehow still menacing enough to make us all go still.
My heart, though, works hard, getting bigger with every beat. It fills my chest, its edges feathering against the bottom of my ribcage, the column of my spine.
I look at Tuck—sofucking handsome with his full lips and furrowed brow—and everything inside me levitates. He’s defending me. Sticking up for us, even though it’s deeply uncomfortable.
No one has ever done that for me before.
No one’s evertrustedme that way. Trusted that I know what I want and then went to war to defend my right to have it.
But here’s Tuck, sword in hand, doing battle on my behalf.
If I wasn’t in love before, I sure as hell am now.
I grab onto the edge of the table, a futile attempt to keep my heart from floating away. But it does. It floats right out of my chest, a balloon on a string I can only hope Tuck will catch.
It’s terrifying, witnessing that part of yourself leave your body. I’m screwed. What happens next—it’s out of my control. This man could quite literally destroy me and my future if he wanted to.
Or he could build a big, beautiful life alongside me.
A life I would’ve never imagined for myself, but that I suddenly, desperately want.
twenty-three
. . .
Maren
One in a Million
We walkMom and Dad back to the ferry. No one had much to say after Tuck’s declaration, so we ate in uncomfortable silence.
It was awful. But instead of stewing in self-hatred over the fact that I disappointed my parents, I was able to feel proud I stuck up for myself. Probably because Tuck stuck up for me too.
It’s weird saying goodbye to Mom and Dad. I don’t think any of us know how to leave things. What I do know is I don’t want there to be any bad blood between us. My parents have their opinions, but they’re good people. I know they only want me to be happy.
I give them each a tight hug.
“I love you,” Mom whispers in my ear before pulling away.
“Be smart,” Dad says.
He shakes Tuck’s hand before boarding the ferry.
Walking home, I let out a huge sigh. I feel like a weight’sbeen lifted off my chest, a sense of immense relief filling me that the conversation is over and I’m still standing.
Tuck has his hand on my nape again. My arm is around his waist.
“I think we did all right, all things considered,” he says.
I pull him closer. “Thank you. For dinner. And for defending me.”
