Page 32 of Hush Money

But…are the two of us less committed to each other because we refuse to take a clear-eyed look at our feelings? I mean, I could refuse to say aloud that my eyes are brown. I could stand on that principle if my conscience directed me to. But that doesn’t suddenly make my eyes blue.

So where does that leave me and my glitchy moral compass? I have no freaking idea.

The two of us get even quieter as Lucien turns the car down the private drive. Then we’re back, all too soon, with Ackerley and its attendant problems looming over us. Staring at its imposing façade as Lucien parks in front of the cottage and I note the gardeners laying mulch, I get the wild thought that Ackerley is like some contemporary version of the Death Star from Star Wars. It’s got its own inescapable tractor beam that pulls you in and forces you to confront scary shit you’re not ready for.

“Home again,” Lucien says. I hear the strain in his voice.

“Yep,” I say, making no move to get out.

“You okay?”

What a pointless question under the circumstances. I try to smile. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful to have a place to stay. And I’m really grateful to be here with you. Even though I feel guilty about it.”

“But…?”

“I kinda wish we could keep driving and pretend Ackerley doesn’t exist.”

Derisive snort from Lucien. “Is that all? I wish we’d stayed in Europe. Hell, I wish we’d gotten off the Mediterranean cruise and onto a world cruise.”

The idea has a fair amount of appeal. I’m not going to lie. “I’m also grateful for our morning together. Thanks for taking the time to come with me. Especially when you’re so busy and have so much going on.”

I should mention that he’s wearing the same Aviator sunglasses from when I met him at the departures lane at LaGuardia. They give him an aloof and forbidding air that I still find unsettling even though I know him better now. He’s very still, all harsh lines and rigid cheekbones. Tension, tension, tension. It doesn’t seem like the moment for any tender sentiments, but he surprises me.

“Nothing else that I have going on is as important as being with you. You believe that, don’t you?”

Much as I want to give a firm and enthusiastic yes, I hesitate too long. “I want to. But we can’t predict the future. Neither one of us knows what will happen when Ravenna gets home from the hospital.”

“Maybe not. But I know I plan to be with you no matter what.”

I try to smile. “If only it were that easy.”

He looks away, a muscle pulsing in the back of his jaw. “It’s not going to be easy. Nothing with Ravenna ever is. Plus, news of her reappearance will get out soon. So we’ll have the press to deal with.”

“Oh,” I say, my dread level cranking even higher. “The press. Of course. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”

“We’ve got more than enough to think about right now,” he says grimly before hesitating. “I need you to trust me to take care of things so we can be together. I will get things straightened out. Whatever it takes.”

“You sound so serious.”

“Because I am,” he says, unsmiling. “Have faith in me. Even when it’s hard. Especially then. Okay?”

“Okay,” I say, but it’s a wobbly okay. Our relationship is fresh and new and still in the getting to know you phase of things. And then you throw a resurrected wife into the mix? Neither Lucien nor I know how to predict the future with all these moving parts flying around. We’d be fools to even try.

Of course he notices my ambivalence.

“Tamsyn. Are you in or are you out?”

This is all so unlike him. Not the quiet intensity, but his sudden emphasis on trust and strength. As though this little summer fling of ours has the potential to go a much greater distance if we just put the work in. The prospect is daunting, but nowhere near as scary as the idea of letting him go and trying to resume life without him.

Anyway. When it comes to Lucien and anything he asks of me, I’m in. Of course I am. I only pray he never asks me to jump off a cliff with him, because God knows I’ll lace on my best sneakers and start doing warmup stretches if he does.

“I’m in,” I say, a little breathless now. “You know I am.”

“Good.” He eases down, his shoulders losing some of their stiffness. There’s a flash of triumph as he starts to reach for me, but then he catches himself, holds his hands up and pulls back. Much to my chagrin. “See? Good behavior.”

“Yay.”

The new glimmer of amusement in his face tells me he’s noticed my lack of enthusiasm. But his expression quickly turns serious. “I have to go.”

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