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“He’ll be okay,” Bowie says, and I step back, watching him enter the house without another word, leaving Naomie to shut the door.
Throat tight, I quickly walk to my car, get in, shut the door, and back out of the driveway as I put on my seatbelt. I try—really try—to keep my emotions in check, but as soon as I hit the stop sign at the end of the street, a sob filled with helpless anger I can no longer hold back climbs up the back of my throat. I hate Naomie, I hate Bowie, and I hate that I’m so helpless in this situation.
I should be a better woman, the kind of woman to tuck my feelings aside and forge a friendship with the woman who is going to be around my son. And if not a friendship, then at least some kind of relationship that would allow me to get to know her and the kind of person she is.
But I know the kind of person she is, don’t I? The kind of woman who would have an affair with a married man and cheat on her husband. She’s the worst kind of woman there is, and I have no say in her spending time with my baby.
Jumping when a car behind me honks, I look in the rearview mirror and give an apologetic wave as I press on the gas. By the time I get home, the tears have dried up and my anger has cooled, but my eyes feel swollen, and my face still feels tight from crying. I pull into my parking spot, grab my purse, get out of my car, and rush down the walkway toward my door with my eyes on my feet.
“Miranda.”
Lifting my head, my heart plummets into my stomach when I see Tucker standing in front of my door, looking as handsome as ever with his jaw covered in a thick layer of stubble like he hasn’t shaved since the last time I saw him.
“Jesus, what the fuck happened?” he asks as rain starts to fall.
“What are you doing here?” I croak, my throat raw from crying, and his expression fills with concern.
“What happened?” he repeats, ignoring my question.
“Nothing.”
“Is Kingston okay?”
“He’s fine.” My chin wobbles. “I just dropped him off to his dad and Naomie.”
“Shit.” He steps toward me, and I take a step back.
“Why are you here?”
“I wanted to see you.”
“Why?” I shake my head. I’m a mess, my head is a mess, and seeing him right now is not helping.
“I shouldn’t have—”
“I get it,” I cut him off before he can say he shouldn’t have kissed me. I don’t need to hear him say it. Not right now. “That kiss.” Tears that had nothing to do with him until this moment fill my eyes. “It shouldn’t have happened. You didn’t need to come here to tell me that.” I start to walk past him, but he grabs my arm, stopping me.
“That’s not what I was going to say.”
“Then what?” I shake free from his hold.
“Fuck.” He rips his fingers through his hair that is already mussed. “I’ve spent the last five days trying to convince myself to stay away from you, but the minute my plane touched down in Nashville, I found myself getting in my truck and driving to your house.”
I look into his eyes that are still as conflicted as the last time I saw him, but there is also something else there that makes my heart beat funny.
“I fucked up. I shouldn’t have just let you walk away the other night.” He takes a step toward me, and this time I hold my ground.
“Tucker.” I close my eyes and feel his warmth get close.
“You can tell me to fuck off. I’d get it if you did, but I don’t want you to. I want a chance to get to know you, even if I don’t deserve it.”
Opening my eyes, I tip my head back and look up at him. From the moment we met, I’ve felt an odd connection to this man, something I can’t explain, and I know that if I say no now, I’ll never figure out what it is. I’ll never know if it’s just the circumstances that brought us together making me feel the way I do, or if it’s something more.
“Saying no would be the smart thing to do,” I say quietly—to him and myself.
“Maybe.” He takes a step closer, so close his fingertips brush against mine, and the slight touch sends a tingle from my fingers up my arm. “Then again, maybe not.”
Lost in the way he’s looking at me, I let out a breath, then whisper, “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yes.” My heart begins to pound when he cups my cheek in his warm palm and smooth’s his thumb under my bottom lip.
“Can I take you to dinner tonight?”
