Chapter 33
Tuck
I see the call come through and quickly wrap things up with my PA.
“Sorry, Jen, gotta take this—”
“Sure thing. I’ll email the report you requested.”
“Remind me?”
“A soft dig into Carousel Studio ? Sales trends, investor shifts, staffing changes, supplier hiccups—”
“Right.” I rub my temple.
Prying into Pen’s business? If I had any sense of self-preservation…or attachment to my vital organs, I’d hit the brakes. But, naturally, I don’t.
“Yeah, thanks.”
“K—let me know if you want to circle back. Talk soon!”
I ditch the call and pick up the next.
“ Mason !” I lean back in the chair, stretching my legs. “At long last. Thought you got abducted, buddy. Figured aliens returned you defective.”
“You should talk,” he retorts. “You know you could call me occasionally? I’m in Asia, not on Jupiter. This technology thing? It works both ways.”
“What can I say?” I grin. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder. I prefer to keep my longing at a slow simmer—best appreciated in person. Over beer.”
“At this rate, that will have to be squeezed between the rehearsal dinner and the wedding.” Mason sighs. “Fucking set delays. Humidity. Oh, and don’t get me started on restrooms. ‘You gotta try the street food!’ everyone says. Yeah? Well, I’ve lost twelve fucking pounds since I got here. Chronic diarrhea, man. Absolute dream trip.”
“Sounds like you’re having a blast,” I smirk.
“Oh yeah—out my ass, several times a day. It’s fucking awesome.”
“Well, don’t lose too much weight, or I’ll have to get your wedding suit altered.”
“Oh, sure, don’t worry about the new ecosystem thriving in my small intestine, just pretend to focus on your best man duties.”
“Pretend?” I say, offended. “I am one hundred percent committed! I’m trying to do a good job here, you know? Respect the title. Maybe make up for the, uh—”
“The slight incident when I nearly died at the bachelor party you threw me?”
“Can everyone stop saying ‘nearly died’? You ingested a spiked drink—”
“A heavily spiked drink.”
“Heavily spiked drink,” I concede. “And yes , you passed out, received immediate medical attention, spent one night in the hospital, and bounced back.”
“No harm, no foul? Yeah, except for the ongoing heart palpitations.”
“What?”
“And the blackouts.”
“Fucking hell, are you serious?” I sit up, gripping my phone.
Then I hear it: Mason’s rhythmic chuckle crackling through the line.
“You prick. You had me going—”
His laughter intensifies. “Sorry, couldn’t resist.”
“It’s bad enough Mia is still pissed at me. I feel terrible about it. And your mother—”
“Oh yeah…” He pauses. “I might’ve put them up to that.”
“Come again?”
“Tuck, where’s your sense of humor? Seriously, I wish I could’ve seen it. With Mia’s acting chops, I bet she put on a hell of a show. And Mom? That icy look of hers? Really sells it.”
“Fuck! I felt terrible—”
“It was just a little prank, Buddy. Relax! No one actually blames you. The asshole who drugged me? Brady’s guy? He got charged and got what he deserved. All good.”
I shake my head. All a fucking joke. Well, they got me, alright.
“Tuck? You there?”
I slowly unfist my hand. “Yep.”
“Hey, speaking of parties, what about Mia’s spa day? I spoke to her earlier, and she was still out of it. Kept rambling about passionfruit daiquiris and some secret pact. Told her to go lie down and I’d call her later. Then Brady texted me to call you—”
“Why?”
“Who the hell knows why Brady does anything?” He laughs. “But seriously, I can’t wait to get back and finally catch up with you guys. Fuck I’m so jealous—all of you together in Blue Mountain Lake. I’m missing out big time.”
“No one there to share your street satay with?” I jest. “Besides the enforced detox, how’s things going?”
“Oh—damn exciting!” I can hear the smile in Mason’s voice. “Esports is off the charts here. And you know, I love the rep work I do, but getting back into the thick of it—the sponsorships, the talent scouting? Man, it’s insane. It was my first big project, you know? Feels good to be back in the mix.”
I let him run with it, sharing insights, new ideas, his plans already in motion. His energy is contagious. Or it should be. But all I feel is the opposite.
Nothing gets me that excited anymore.
Mason’s passion makes him money. My passion was to make money. And now I have it…what the hell comes next?
“Sorry, what?” I snap back to the conversation.
“Pen. How’s she doing? I felt terrible that I couldn’t get back for the funeral. Got stuck in a goddamn dust storm in Beijing.”
I hesitate. “Uh, she’s doing as well as you’d expect, I guess. Trying to figure out what to do with the house.”
“Well, she’ll sell, won’t she? Get back to the city ASAP?”
“Seems like she’s gonna hang in Blue Mountain Lake a little longer. But yeah, shouldn’t be long till she heads back.”
Shouldn’t be long. Yeah, sure. What do I know?
Then a shift in Mason’s tone: “Is this why Brady said to call?”
“Huh?” I frown.
“Because you sound about as chilled as a Bangkok wok,” Mason presses. “What’s up? Was it hard yards helping Pen through it all? I really wish I could’ve been there.”
“It’s not that.” I sigh. “It’s more what happens now. She’s pretending to be fine when all her insecurities are running wild, and…” I drop my head, staring at the angular patterns in the carpeted floor.
“And?”
“Well, she doesn’t appear to want my help. In fact, I made matters worse by pushing her to…make decisions—” I break off. “Look, never mind, it’ll be fine.”
Mason chuckles. “Oh, totally. Because Pen loves making decisions under pressure. She’s so good at it.”
I let out a hollow laugh. “Yeah. Hopeless.”
“If it’s about the house,” Mason suggests, “she should just get a financial advisor and let an agent handle it.”
“It’s…a bit more than the house. But yeah, fair point.”
Fuck I act like I know her better than anyone. Then I do exactly what we all know she hates. I pressured her to make a choice. To decide her whole future…and whether she sees me in it. Which she was pretty damn clear—she doesn’t.
“You know something, Tuck?” Mason’s voice takes on a serious edge. “You can’t define a direction if you don’t talk about what’s blocking the road.”
I frown at the phone. “What the fuck?”
“I know—didn’t think I’d be pulling out Guru wisdom for you, but here we are.”
“Did you say, ‘Guru’?”
“Yeah, she’s amazing. She helped Mia and me clear out the negative energy from our pasts. A type of soul-cleansing before the wedding.”
“And why, exactly, are you sharing this life-altering revelation with me?”
Mason clears his throat. “Because I’m giving you a chance to explain what the hell is going on between you and Pen, and you’re all clammed up. That’s not like you, Tuck. What’s the problem?”
“So you did talk to Brady about it?”
“Brady, Mia…even my mom mentioned something about the vibe between you two. And since you won’t explain it in your own words, I’ll give you theirs: ‘ Why the hell can’t they just get it together when it’s obvious how they feel about each other?’ ”
I exhale. “Maybe because it’s not what she wants.”
“What isn’t?”
“What do you mean, what isn’t? Me and her.”
“In what capacity?”
“Huh?” I ask, bewildered. “What do you think?”
“Tuck—define it. Exactly. Because if you can’t, how the hell do you expect her to?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Seriously,” Mason pushes. “What have you actually asked of her?”
“Mason, I was clear. She talked about maybe wanting a baby. I suggested we could do it together somehow.”
“‘Maybe’. ‘Somehow.’” He deadpans.
“So what? It’s obvious I want to be with her.”
“Ambiguous at best.”
“Fuck you.”
“I get that you’re frustrated.”
“Beyond frustrated. I’m done.”
Silence. A pause just long enough for his disappointment to settle in.
“No, you’re not,” he says, with supreme confidence. “Come on, Tuck. Try harder. You have it in you. Pen doesn’t work well with blurry lines. She needs things defined and spelled out. So that it’s too clear and direct to ignore. Nothing left to misinterpret. You know how she overthinks things.”
I push off the seat, pacing now. “Look, not everyone gets the fairytale, okay, Mason? You’re all high on life with your upcoming wedding, and that’s great. I couldn’t be happier for you. But that doesn’t mean everyone’s following suit. Okay…Brady and Vivian are happy, too. Statistically, that’s it for our crew.”
“I know I don’t have to tell you that’s not how statistics work.”
I rub a hand down my face as Mason drills in harder.
“Everyone has an equal chance at happiness, Tuck. But only if they decide to actually go after it. You gotta take the time to figure out what the hell you’re chasing.”
A heavy pause.
Then Mason presses again, his voice quieter but no less insistent.
“You can’t win a fight if you don’t even know what you’re fighting for.”
I stop pacing, my grip tightening around my phone.
“So, Tuck. What are you fighting for? Because I’d bet my last dime it goes way beyond just donating sperm.”
I don’t answer. Because I don’t know how to.
Didn’t I wage a decent fight already? Isn’t there a point where you have to accept defeat? When you weigh up the odds, balance the possibilities against the barriers, and realize the math just doesn’t work?
A loud crackling noise breaks through my thoughts. Then, the announcement echoes overhead and the waiting area comes to life as people stir, gathering their things.
“What was that?” Mason asks, a note of suspicion creeping in. “Wait a second, are you—?”
“Yep.” I glance at the gate. “That’s my flight being called. I’m going back to the city.”