Chapter 24
Ruth
The doorbell rings just as we’re finishing eating, and I can’t help but feel a little disappointed. I love being a mom. Even if I could go back in time, I wouldn’t change a thing if it meant Birdie wouldn’t be a part of my life.
But I wish Deidre could’ve kept her just a little longer.
Not because I don’t miss my daughter. I do.
Being away from her today felt weird and unnatural.
But it’s something I’m going to have to get used to.
She’ll be away from me regularly once we move, so today was a good day to test the waters.
And since I open the door to find two smiling faces, it’s pretty clear the waters were smooth sailing.
Which is why I don’t feel bad about wishing I’d been able to stare at Tucker’s bare chest just a few minutes longer. Maybe touch it a little.
With my tongue.
Unfortunately, while I greet his mother, he retrieves a T-shirt from his room, pulling it on to hide the tanned skin and toned abs that distracted me all through dinner.
After taking Birdie’s diaper bag and hooking it over the back of one of the stools set at the kitchen island, I go back toward Deidre, planning to relieve her of my daughter.
But Tucker beats me to the punch. He scoops my little girl out of his mother’s arms, transferring her to his with a grin. “Did you girls have fun today?”
“The most fun.” Deidre gives Birdie a smile. “Didn’t we?”
Birdie slow blinks at her, lids heavy as she tries to hold her head upright.
“It looks like she had almost more fun than she could handle.” I give Deidre a smile I hope conveys how genuinely grateful I am. “Thank you so much for taking her. I really appreciate it.”
Deidre waves my thanks off. “It’s nothing.
” Reaching out, she smooths back a little of my daughter’s curly hair.
“That’s what Gram Grams are for.” Her eyes drift to my daughter, a wistful smile curving her lips.
“She reminds me so much of Tucker when he was that age. Full of energy and overflowing with excitement and joy.”
I hold my breath, expecting her words to hit me like a punch to the gut.
And they do, but not in the way I expected.
Of course I’m sad my mother never got the chance to be the amazing grandma she would have been.
Now on top of that, I’m struggling with guilt over knowing Deidre’s time acting as Birdie’s Gram Gram is very limited.
With sadness over my daughter having someone grandmotherly in her life for such a small period of time at an age where she won’t even remember it.
But there’s nothing I can do to change any of it. I have to move. It’s the only way I can keep Birdie safe. This false sense of security here on the Bradshaw estate won’t last. It’s still too close to William. And we’re still too easy to find.
“I’ll let you guys go to bed, because you all look a little exhausted.” She pats Tucker on the shoulder before giving my arm a squeeze. “If you need me again, just let me know. Ted and I are always up for hanging out with Birdie.”
My throat tightens, forming an ache I can’t swallow away. This whole thing felt harmless when it started, but the deeper I get into the lie Tucker and I are telling, the more complicated it gets.
What will his mother think when I don’t just break up with him, but actually move across the country?
What will Trevor do when I’m not there to smooth over his verbal missteps and keep him in line?
What about Maren and Mariah and Brooke? Will their feelings be hurt when I leave without saying goodbye?
Because that’s what I’m going to have to do. I can’t face them. Can’t explain why I’m leaving and why things didn’t work out. Because they technically aren’t working in. Not the way they think.
Tucker walks his mom to the door, my daughter still cradled in his arm. I watch as her little head gets heavier and heavier, bobbing around until it finally drops to rest against his shoulder. The pit in my stomach sinks deeper, forming a hole I’m not sure I know how to fill. Or if I even can.
Dating isn’t an option for me. Even if it was, I can’t imagine finding someone like Tucker would be easy. Even if I did, he’d probably also have zero interest in a relationship.
After closing the door, Tucker turns to me, walking carefully as he motions toward my daughter’s face, mouthing the words is she asleep?
Nodding my head, I move in to gently extricate her from his grip. “Yes, but she needs a diaper change and a quick wipe down before she can crash.”
I carry my daughter up the stairs, grateful for a few minutes alone to collect my thoughts.
I stretch those minutes out, trying to work through all the weird emotions building up inside me.
I didn’t feel guilty about taking money from Tucker—I still don’t.
It’s what will keep my daughter safe. And I will always do whatever it takes to make that happen.
But I do feel guilty about lying to his mother. Not about the relationship she thinks I have with Tucker, but about the relationship she’s hoping to build with my daughter.
Maybe even with me.
Same with Brooke and Mariah and Maren. I even feel bad about Tucker’s brothers.
Maybe not so much Walker. I’m pretty sure that guy knows exactly what’s going on.
But the rest of them? I feel like a world-class dick over lying to them.
After putting Birdie to bed and taking a shower of my own, I go in search of my pretend boyfriend, planning to ask exactly how he expects all this to shake out.
Maybe he can tell me his mother won’t be bothered at all.
That Brooke and Mariah and Maren will all take it in stride, and his brothers will barely notice.
I go downstairs, expecting him to be on the sofa or digging around the kitchen. But the main floor of the house is empty. Quiet.
Could he have already gone to bed? Tucker worked a long day today, so it’s not completely surprising he might want to crash early.
I’m approaching his door, planning to listen for any sign of movement on the other side, when a strange sound drags my attention to the closed door I found him coming out of the other day.
I’ve been a little curious about what’s behind it, but going inside felt like crossing a line.
Invading a space I haven’t been invited to.
Quietly, I creep down the hall, bare feet silent as they move over the plush runner protecting the hardwood. Stopping in front of the mystery door, I step close, holding my breath so I can hear better as I attempt to identify the sound I heard.
It’s not consistent. It comes in bursts, cutting through the air sporadically. Now that I’m closer, I can tell it’s familiar. Something I’ve heard before.
On a daily basis since I’ve been going to work with Tucker.
He must be adding some built-ins or something. Maybe bookcases like the ones in the bedroom Birdie and I currently occupy. I bet they're going to be gorgeous, and imagining what he’s doing only makes my desire to see the other side of the door stronger.
I did want to talk to him, didn’t I? I don’t see why I can’t knock? Maybe get a tiny glimpse when he peeks out.
Lifting my hand, I quietly rap against the solid wood, doing my best not to be loud enough to wake my daughter, but also to be heard over the drill he’s using.
The drilling stops, like Tucker’s waiting to see if he really did hear a knock, so I do it again, anticipation building as I wait.
I’m not waiting long.
The door suddenly whips open, but only wide enough for me to see the tall expanse of man greeting me. Tucker looks me over, eyes dragging from the top of my head, past the pajamas I changed into after my shower, stopping at where my bare toes curl against the floor. “Did I wake you up?”
I shake my head. “I wasn’t asleep.”
His eyes snap to the door of the room where Birdie’s sleeping. “Am I being too loud?”
Again, I shake my head. “Not at all.” I can’t fight the curiosity curling through my insides any longer. “What are you doing?”
I know I wasn’t going to pry, but I love Tucker’s house, and would hate to leave without seeing his newest project.
“Uhh.” He hesitates, head swiveling over one shoulder. “I was just assembling something I built.”
“Can I see it?” Maybe he’s turning this room into a man cave with a speakeasy vibe.
Possibly a library with floor-to-ceiling shelves.
A theater room with a kitchenette where he can watch movies, snack, and relax?
The possibilities are endless, and they’re killing me.
Since I don’t have a house of my own, and likely won’t for the foreseeable future, I want to live vicariously through him.
Tucker seems torn, which is weird. Normally he’s more than happy to show off his building skills.
I’ve heard all about how he spent weeks on the built-in hutch in his dining room.
The hours it took to craft his own cabinetry for the kitchen and bathrooms. He’s even shown me plans for the play space he’s putting in the basement for Titus and Mariah’s twins to play in when they’re older.
So it’s strange he isn’t eager to show me what he’s working on now.
Raking one hand through his mop of wavy hair, he takes another long look over his shoulder. “Yeah. You can see it.” He turns back to me, expression super serious. “But it’s not done yet, so keep that in mind and don’t judge it too harshly.”
I would never judge anything Tucker does harshly. I mean, maybe I did at one point in time, but that was before I knew him. Before I started to understand a little bit of why he is the way he is. Who Tucker is at his core.
And it’s definitely not a womanizing fuckboy.
“I won’t.” I smile, hoping he can see the truth. “I just like seeing all the stuff you can make. It’s amazing what you can do.”
I never really thought too much about building or wood crafting.
It wasn’t even on my radar. I’m not necessarily a crafty kind of girl, and my mom and I always lived in apartments, so that kind of thing never entered my mind.
But now that I’ve gotten a glimpse at all the things Tucker can do, I’m not sure I’ll ever look at furniture and cabinets and bookshelves the same way again.
Tucker hesitates a second longer before finally stepping back, pulling the door open wide to let me in.
I’m so eager to see what he’s done, I pretty much jump into the space, eyes dragging around the room to see if any of my guesses were correct.
When my gaze lands on what he’s been building, it takes me a second to identify what it is.
Not because it isn’t easily identifiable, but because it’s not even in the realm of the possibilities I considered.
“I know it won’t be here long, but I wanted to make sure it works the way I think it will so I can make any changes before you go.
” Tucker’s voice is soft. Almost hesitant as he explains.
“I tried not to make it too big since we don’t know how large Birdie’s room will be when you move, but I still wanted her to have plenty of space to play. ”
I don’t know what to say. Don’t know that I could get words out even if I did.
Because Tucker made my daughter the princess bed of every little girl’s dreams. A twin-sized mattress is set sideways and surrounded by walls covered in faux stone.
Sconces with flickering yellow bulbs mimicking a flame are mounted at the head and foot, giving the sleeping space a relaxing glow.
Two towers flank each end, complete with pointed roof lines covered in cedar shingles.
Each one has a doorway leading inside, giving Birdie spaces to hide away and play pretend.
“I put ladders in each of the towers, so when she’s bigger she can climb up onto the platform above her bed.
” Tucker crouches down, pointing to the path he’s describing.
“But they’re removable, so you don’t have to attach them until it’s safe for her to use them.
” He straightens, gesturing to the entire structure.
“The whole thing can be disassembled and packed flat, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to move and put back together. ”
I swallow hard, because I’m struggling to come to terms with what I’m seeing. “You made this for Birdie?”
Tucker shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I know she has that toddler bed now, but it won’t be long before she outgrows it, and I thought she might like this better.”
A weird sound comes out of me, and I don’t know if it’s a laugh or a sob or a scoff. Probably some combination of the three that just makes it sound like I’m choking to death. “Of course she will like it better. It’s amazing.” My eyes move from the bed to the man.
He is amazing.
I launch myself at Tucker, winding both arms around his neck as I plant my mouth on his. Like so many of them recently, this kiss isn’t staged or planned or manufactured for the benefit of others. It’s for him. It’s to show my appreciation. To show him how much this matters to me.
How much he might matter to me.
It’s an unfortunate truth that I’ve accidentally found myself genuinely liking Tucker Bradshaw. It’s a little too easy to imagine what life could be like if this was real. If I could stay.
But it’s not and I can’t, so I might as well enjoy it while I have it. Enjoy him while I have him.
Leaning back, I meet his eyes. “Thank you.” I take a shuddering breath, wondering how hard it’s going to hurt when I leave him behind. “For everything.”
Tucker’s hand comes to my face, rough palm curving against my cheek. “You don’t have to thank me, Ruthless.” His voice is deep and soft. “I just want to see you and Birdie happy.”
My stomach clenches at his words, because I genuinely think they’re true. Tucker does want me and my daughter to be happy. But the warmth that realization brings is gone in a flash as my stomach drops.
Because I’m not sure how happy we will be when he’s not around.