Chapter 18
Penelope
“Let’s go, girls!” Shania Twain is living rent-free in my head, and honestly? I’m not mad about it.
A few drinks, a lot of bad dancing, and even worse karaoke. Misha’s a bad influence, hyping me up like a human megaphone. But actually, tonight was exactly what I needed. I feel alive, electric, free. The kind of free that makes climbing a tree at midnight seem like a brilliant idea.
Which, in hindsight…might have been a little ambitious.
The nagging thought—even more persistent than Shania Twain—was coming to wake up Tuck to answer my aching need.
And I could have texted. Sure.
But no. That would be too sensible.
Instead, I looked at the old oak tree outside his bedroom window, and muscle memory took over. After all, I scaled this beast infinite times as a teenager.
Now? Well.
Now I’m wedged between two thick branches, with a torn dress, thong hanging in the breeze, legs flailing, and Shania singing in my head while I cling to the tree like a deranged koala.
I already tried to wriggle free. The tree did not cooperate.
But: ”I’m strong. Invincible …”
Huh. Somehow Shania is upstaged by Helen Reddy.
“I am woman! Hear me roar. La, la, la…”
Okay. Okay. Strategize. No big deal. Just need another way to get his attention.
What the hell, I already lost one shoe to this adventure.
I fumble for the remaining sandal, a maneuver which requires immense concentration and abilities of contortment.
Contortment ? Is that a word? Who cares, I need something to throw. And my purse is out of the question. My phone? Absolutely not.
Finally, I prise the remaining sandal free.
I carefully take aim, squinting. Hmm…maybe the other eye.
And fling !
It sails through the air in a perfect arc.
And misses the window by a foot.
Shit.
“Oh, damn it, come on, Tuck!” I whisper-shout, wiggling again, my balance shifting dangerously.
Suddenly, a bright light passes through the branches.
What the heck?
I scan the upper window. “Tuck?”
Silence.
Then—
“Penelope.” His voice sounds far away. And amused.
I frown. Something about his tone…
“ Down here .”
I look down as the flashlight captures my midair predicament.
And there he is. Not at the window.
But on the ground.
Arms crossed. Head tilted back. Staring directly up at me.
Flashing a light against my ass.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Kill me now.”
He laughs. “Oh no. I’m enjoying this way too much.”
“Tuck,” my voice is strained, “rescue me. I’m stuck!”
“No shit. What were you thinking?”
“Clearly, I wasn’t thinking. Can you stop gawking at my ass and get me down?”
“I’m just assessing the situation. Checking angles. Formulating a strategy.”
“Well, can you speed things up a little, Einstein? We’re battling some major challenges here, namely, gravity .”
“You didn’t notice that giant branch by the window got trimmed off years ago?” he wonders. “It was scraping against the guttering.”
“That update is so not useful to me at this point. Now that I’m up here, yes , I can absolutely confirm there is no access to the window.”
“Yeah. So…you’re straddling that forked section. If you shift your weight, slide lower, and get your left foot on the next branch.”
“You could literally be speaking Swedish right now. That’s how much sense that makes to me. I can’t move. I am stuck .”
Tuck sighs. “Okay. Hold on a second.”
“Really, that’s your advice? Hold on ? Geez Louise, I would never have thought of that. Stuck in a tree? Better hold on! Golden advice, Tuck. Real insightful.”
Silence.
Great. Now he’s abandoned me. Now I’m stuck up here with sweaty palms and shards of bark imprinting my backside, and Tuck’s just decided to wander off somewhere. Perfect.
I blink. “Tuck?”
More silence.
“Are you kidding me right now?”
Then a sound. Movement.
“Tuck?”
“Relax, Pen. I’ve got the ladder.”
A wave of relief rushes through me. “Oh, finally. Maybe you could have led with that instead of playing peeping Tom.”
“I was appreciating the view. Sue me.”
“You’re the worst. ”
A chuckle, then the scrape of the ladder being positioned against the tree.
“Okay, I’m coming up.”
I cling tighter to the rough bark. “Hurry up.”
“Bossy,” he mutters, climbing. “I miss the good old days when this could be considered a gallant act.”
“Oh, I would totally swoon, Tuck, if it didn’t end with me plummeting to my death.”
There’s a creak as he steps higher. Then suddenly, he’s right below me .
“All right,” he says, voice calm. “You’re gonna have to let go.”
My stomach lurches. “What?”
“You’re wedged in that fork. You need to loosen up and let me help you onto the ladder.”
“I—I can’t.”
“Hey.” His voice is lower now, steadier. “I’ve got you, Pen. I won’t let you fall.”
I swallow hard. The reality of how precarious this position is suddenly really sets in.
“Pen.” His hands brush against my thigh. “Trust me.”
I let out a shaky breath. “I hate this.”
“I know.” He wraps an arm around my hips.
I tense in panic. “Oh, god—”
“Relax. You’re going to slide toward me, it’s less than a foot to the first step. Now, swing your hips this way. I’ll make sure you keep your balance.”
I try. My foot hits empty air. I yelp.
His hands catch me—firm, steady.
“Easy.” His grip tightens, warm and reassuring. “I have you.”
My heart is pounding. I’m breathing way too fast.
“I won’t let you fall.” His voice is so damn sure. Like there’s no universe where he wouldn’t catch me.
Something in me unknots. I shift my weight, letting him take it, and suddenly—I have contact with the ladder. I’m moving.
He guides me down, one slow step at a time.
Until, miraculously, my foot hits solid ground.
I sag against him, his arms surrounding me.
“See?” he murmurs. “Easy, peasy.”
Easy. Right.
If only my pulse would stop racing.
I tilt my head back to look at him. The shadows soften the sharp cut of his jaw. But the glimmer in his eyes and the teasing lift of his lips are unmistakable.
I clear my throat. “I, uh…just wanted to say hi.”
His lips twitch. “Hi, Pen.”
“Hi.” I bite my lip, suddenly aware of everything— his hands still resting lightly on me, the way my breath isn’t quite steady yet.
Then I remember my dress. The thigh-high slit that’s currently exposing half my crotch.
I yank at the fabric, tugging it closed.
Tuck’s gaze drops for half a second before he smirks.
“Another wardrobe malfunction? Can’t blame me for this one. But if you need someone to finish the job, I’d be happy to oblige.”
“How generous,” I say, grinning now, adrenaline still buzzing in my veins. “Your gallantry knows no bounds.”
His gaze locks on mine, something playful in his eyes.
“Indeed. And once I put this ladder away, I’d like to escort you upstairs and help you forget all about your traumatic experience.”
“What do you have in mind?” I tease.
His grip on my skin tightens. “A good, hard—”
“ Tuck ?” A voice, groggy and confused, cuts through the night.
We both freeze.
“Everything alright out there?”
Tuck exhales. “Oh yeah, Dad. Just…a bit of stargazing.”
There’s a pause.
Then Keith, clearly unconvinced: “Is that my ladder?”
“Yeah.” Tuck taps the frame as if testing its balance. “Just wanted to show Pen. That you have this big old ladder, since she wants me to…check her guttering.”
I stifle a giggle.
“Er—” Tuck glances at me. “The guttering on the cottage.”
Keith shoves his hands into the pockets of his robe. “I see. Okay, well…I’ll, uh…leave you to it. Night.”
“Night, Dad.”
“Goodnight, Keith!” I add, giving a bright little wave.
Keith mutters something under his breath before shuffling back inside.
Tuck watches him go, then turns back to me.
“So,” he says, voice low, “your place or mine?”
A warmth spreads through my chest and tracks lower. This moment, under this impossibly large tree, freshly plucked from near death by a handsome man who now wants to take me to bed, feels like something pure . A rush of life, sharp and electric.
Maybe it’s everything that’s happened tonight. Maybe it’s just him .
I’m still grieving my mother. Still emotional and raw. But something about the brutality of loss makes me want to live more fiercely—step into myself, take more risks, throw myself into things that matter . Even if that thing is a tree, and I am profoundly bad at climbing it.
And right now, Tuck matters .
Except, it turns out a lot can shift in ten minutes.
Because that’s how long it takes for this whole thing to spin into some kind of standoff .
It starts with the condom he doesn’t have.
“You always have a condom,” I complain.
Tuck crouches above me in my cramped single bed, his hands hitched on the inverted triangle of his hips. I’m captivated—and immensely frustrated.
His brows lift. “Right, next time I rush to rescue an inebriated woman from a tree, I’ll be sure to grab my wallet and essentials first.”
I drag out a breath. “It might make things easier. Anyway, it’s literally next door. Just run and grab them.”
His jaw ticks. “I guess I’m slightly confused. About a couple of things.”
“Oh my god, what is there to be confused about?” I throw up my hands. “We clearly aim to have sex. Sex requires a condom. Your condoms are next door. This isn’t a riddle, Tuck—just move your ass.”
His mouth tightens as he exits the bed. Folds his arms. “Exactly.”
“Exactly what ?”
“Well, for starters, as a sexually active modern woman, why don’t you have any condoms on hand?”
I roll my eyes. Is this seriously what he wants to argue about at this point in time?
“Because I don’t usually need to. You always—”
“Secondly,” he continues, “I thought you were suddenly committed to having a baby, which, correct me if I’m wrong, kind of rules out birth control?”
A sharp heat flashes up my spine. “Are you serious?”
“And thirdly,” he adds, voice cooling, “if you do have said baby, you might have to stop outsourcing essentials and learn to carry some yourself. Right now, you can’t even be bothered stocking up on a box of condoms. How’s that gonna play out when you need a whole carload of equipment to care for a baby?”
His words land like a slap.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
Because this is way beyond the damn condom now.
And Tuck isn’t just annoyed. He’s fuming .
He never loses his cool. I know, because I’ve spent my whole life trying. Testing his limits, pushing his buttons, searching for how to crack the code to all that confidence and control.
Which means this isn’t about the damn condom.
It’s about me . My decision.
I slowly pull myself upward, bringing my knees to my chest, feeling acutely naked, vulnerable.
And supremely angry.
My hands fist as the impact of his words solidifies inside me, so that, when it finally comes, my voice is as hard as steel.
“I’m going to do you a massive favor and sidebar the fact you’re suggesting I’m actually incapable of caring for a child—”
He holds a halting finger. “Not ‘incapable’. Just that it would take a whole different mindset, Pen.”
I glare at him with the force of a Star Wars turbo laser. “How about we start with why the hell I would abruptly stop using condoms because I’m considering having a child?”
I note the shift in Tuck’s eyes. The evaluation taking place. He’s momentarily torn. No doubt sensing my white-hot anger. But kudos to the male ego, he opts to double down.
“The aim is to have a baby.” He cocks his head. “Takes an egg and sperm. You got the eggs, I got the sperm.”
I lean on the headboard for support, having just learned the true meaning of the term flabbergasted . The true, soul-deep meaning of the word.
Then my anger collides with tequila haze, exhaustion, and the emotional wreckage of the past days. The whole absurdity of this conversation sweeps over me.
And I burst into unrestrained laughter.
Full-bodied, tears-in-my-eyes laughter.
Tuck’s face freezes.
He grabs his shirt from the floor, his jaw flexing.
Still, I can’t stop. Not until the laughter runs out of steam and something colder, sharper takes its place.
I inhale, swallowing the remnants of hysteria. “Tuck, I’m sorry…it’s just. Funny.”
His chin juts forward. “What’s so funny about it?”
“You. Me. A baby ?” I shake my head because it’s self-explanatory. “It would be an unmitigated disaster.”
His expression darkens, his knuckles going white against the t-shirt twisted in his grip.
“Why?”
“ Why ?” I shrug helplessly. “Why is the sky blue? Why does water boil at…whatever temperature it boils? It’s just how things are, Tuck. We’re completely incompatible. Us with a child ? We can’t agree on anything! We’d ruin a kid before it even got out of diapers.”
His face is a thundercloud, his eyes bright with something I can’t quite name. Anger, sure. But something else, too. Something deeper.
And I guess this is where a lesser man would storm out. Exit my life and slam the door for good measure.
But not Tuck.
He stares at me. Grim. Unmoving.
Then, slowly, he folds his arms across his chest.
“That’s a unilateral conclusion, Penelope,” he says firmly. “Based on unverified assumptions.” He turns to the desk. “So, there’s only one way to resolve this.”
“ Really ?” I ask, incredulous. “And what’s that?”
“Let’s debate it.”