Chapter Nineteen
DYLAN
Cal: How’s your fake fiancé?
Dylan: Being a real pain in the ass.
Cal: And Tucker?
Dylan: So far, so good. Meaning I haven’t seen him in a few days.
Cal: Be careful, Dylan, okay? It’s the same guy who bullied us in high school.
Dylan: Trust me, Dot, there’s nothing I want more than Tucker out of my life.
“Instead of wasting all that time and research on cybersecurity and flu strains, universities need to start looking into whether Nina Dobrev and Victoria Justice are the same person,” Max mumbled, perched over the alcohol rack behind the bar, watching The Vampire Diaries on his phone.
My first time back after four days, and I was finally experiencing a graveyard shift at the Alchemist. It was officially summer, and New York City had decided to kick it off with a huge Central Park event laden with multiple live shows. Other than the random tourists staggering into the bar to purchase overpriced water, we were pretty much alone.
“They’re not the same person, Max,” I chuckled, browsing through my own Instagram for-you page, eyeballs glued to reels of people traveling the world. I especially loved the ones who lived in their vans. Here I was, being a salty bitch about my sweater getting caught in my door handle, when people actually had to drive to their gym to take a shower.
“How’s Faye doing?” I asked.
“Better. Still not discharged, though. There’s a recovery time they want her to take. Four, maybe five weeks before she can come back to work. You still fine to fill in for her?”
“As long as I have childcare,” I confirmed.
“Let me know if anything changes. Well.” Max yanked out his AirPods, stuffing his phone into his back pocket. “I’m heading out. Tucker will be here any minute to take over, so don’t worry. You good?”
No. I was the opposite of good. I didn’t want to see Tucker. I especially didn’t want to spend one-on-one time with him. But it wasn’t like I had a choice.
I gave Max a thumbs-up. “Sure.”
“You can go when he arrives. Place is empty anyway.”
“Roger that. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“You too.”
After Max left, I decided to keep busy and clean some sticky tables and the underside of the bar to pass the time. I switched from Instagram reels to Grey’s Anatomy for background noise. A part of me wanted to google premed programs in New York, but I stopped myself in time. I’d be better off sticking to this job for a few more weeks—months, if needed—before finding something suitable.
Finally, Tucker breezed into the empty bar. He wore a pair of jeans and a button-down black shirt. He was holding a donut box in his hand, a welcoming smile curving his mouth.
I slid an uncertain glance at him. “Um, hi.”
“Hey there, Dyl! What’s up?” He slid the donut box between us on the bar and flipped it open, gesturing toward a row of orange-glazed donuts.
I mentally checked the calendar. Nope. Fall was nowhere near us. The smell was overwhelming. Like I got lost in a pre-Thanksgiving Bed Bath & Beyond.
“What’s this?” I peered into the box.
“Pumpkin spice donuts. I remember they’re your favorite.” He waggled his brows.
“You’re remembering incorrectly.” I folded my arms over my chest. Why was he being so nauseatingly nice?
His beam collapsed. “But when you were pregnant, you said—”
“When I was pregnant, I used to dip pickles in peanut butter. Pregnancy cravings have nothing to do with normal taste.”
His shoulders slumped, his entire posture collapsing into a hunch. His face looked better, almost healed. Then his disappointment quickly morphed into fury, as it did when we were together. “What’s your problem?” He puffed out his chest, rounding the bar predatorily, and I nearly cowered back from the force of his sudden anger.
Tucker used to either agree to do what I wanted to make me shut up or lose it completely, slamming doors and yelling. In my warped universe, door slamming and shouting weren’t that big of a deal back then. I came from a household where my father would literally hit my brother and my mother for not answering his calls fast enough. But looking back, I couldn’t imagine tolerating that sort of treatment with Gravity in the house. She didn’t deserve to grow up thinking this was the standard. Didn’t deserve an oopsie blue bracelet of pain around her wrist.
I grabbed a bottle opener from the counter and aimed it his way. “Take a step back before I disembowel you without anesthesia,” I instructed with fake calm.
Tucker stopped a few feet from me, parking one hand on his waist and using the other to massage his temples. “Shit. You’re right. I’m just…take the donuts, okay? I had to go all the way across town to get them. They don’t make this flavor at Krispy Kreme.”
“I don’t care.” I angled the bottle opener toward his face, ready to put a hole in it. “I don’t want your donuts.”
“I’m trying to make an effort here,” he said through gritted teeth, his flat mouth barely moving.
“Mission failed,” I announced.
“See, this is why I left you. You always have an annoying comeback that spoils the mood.”
Ignoring the way his words sliced through the muscle tissue of my heart, I retrieved a washcloth from the fridge handle, making a show of wiping the bottle opener clean. “I’m not here to become your friend. I’m here to earn money so I can provide for our daughter.”
“Yeah. Okay. Let’s talk about her.” He pasted on an easy smile, and I got whiplash from the drastic change in his behavior every ticking minute. I used to tell myself Tucker being good in bed was proof he wasn’t completely selfish. I now knew I was wrong. Bringing me to orgasm over and over was a way to stroke his own ego, to prove to himself that he could. My body was his toy. A means to an end. It was never about me.
“Yes?” I put the bottle opener down and immediately grabbed the paring knife, wiping it methodically.
“Am I going to have to get lawyers involved, or are you going to do the right thing here and let me see her?”
I examined the knife I was holding, reluctantly putting it back on the cutting board. “We’ll need to make it gradual,” I heard myself say. “I don’t want to spring you on her out of nowhere. First, we’ll do short visits. We’ll introduce you as a friend of the family. Then, if everything goes well, we can tell her.”
“Who’s ‘we’? You and that asshole?”
I blinked at him slowly. I meant me and him, but I didn’t appreciate the attitude.
“Rhyland is doing more than you ever have for Gravity.” This part was true.
“I don’t like him.”
“Good thing I’m the one who fucks him, not you.” If only.
“How soon?” he demanded, his left eyelid pulsating, twitch-twitch-twitch.
“I’m not going to time it. When it feels right.”
“That’s not fair,” he griped, giving me a look of disbelief. “I know my rights, Dylan. If you start posing too many difficulties, I will get lawyers involved.”
“Awesome. I’d love to tell the judge you left me to raise her for three and a half years so you could get a tan on Bondi Beach.” I turned to face him. “Oh, and I took plenty of pictures of the new bracelet you gave me.” I raised my arm between us. “Nice gift, by the way.”
“Look, I don’t want any trouble,” he said quickly, licking his lips. “I just want to be a part of your and Gravity’s life. I think the fact that you came here, to this city, to this bar, is kismet. You can’t tell me it doesn’t mean anything. I mean, what are the odds?”
“Pretty good, considering Kieran sent me here.”
“What are the odds I’d see Kieran here?” he insisted. “That he’d recognize me. That I’d tell him I was going back to Staindrop to take care of you and Gravity.”
“Whoa there.” I stumbled back, my ass hitting the counter. “I don’t need you to take care of me. This is purely about Gravity. I—”
“C’mon, Dylan.” He snorted, stepping forward, ignoring my discomfort. “You can’t tell me you’re really considering marrying that douchebag Rhyland. He’s literally a man-whore. Like, it’s the talk of the town.”
Yawning provocatively, I gathered my hair and tied it into a messy bun. “Retired now. And all that practice made a particularly delicious perfect. I’m so thankful he introduced me to good dick.” I winked.
Inside, I was reeling. Tucker’s words had struck me like a thunderstorm. I couldn’t stop thinking about the woman who’d abused Rhyland, imagining myself strangling to death the faceless, entitled piece of work who thought she could have him just because she’d paid him to accompany her. I didn’t expect to take it so badly.
“Dylan. Dylan. Honey.” Tucker rushed toward me, and I tried not to flinch as he took my arms in his hands, peering down into my eyes.
I realized, to my horror, I could never hate him all the way, because he had my daughter’s eyes and smile and dimples.
“It’s your anger speaking, and I get it. I messed up. Let me make this up to you. We were so great together. Don’t let one small mishap ruin this for us.”
“Allison wasn’t a mishap.” I yanked my arms away, ducking under him and swiftly making my way to the back end of the bar. He followed me. “And neither were the last three, almost four, years. I can’t, in good conscience, keep you away from your daughter if you plan to do the right thing by her. Better late than ever. But you and I have been done since the moment you docked back in Staindrop that Christmas and went to your mistress instead of to the hospital to see your daughter. This is still over, Tucker.”
With that, I grabbed my shit from my locker and fled.