Page 133 of Old Acquaintances

He’s visibly uncomfortable. Tucker drops his voice. “That night happenedbecauseI was a good friend.”

I twist to face him. “I’m not talking about that night. I’m talking about all of it. The kissing and the touching. Even justyou holding my hand.”

He glances at my palm.

“That’s not nothing.”

“I told you, I’ve moved on.”

“At least tell me what there was to move on from exactly. Just an attraction?”

Tucker drops the remote with a huff, saying, “It’s really convenient for you to wonder about all of thisnow. It would have been helpful years ago when I was drowning in a borderline obsession with you.”

“Borderline?” I challenge.

He stands. “I’m going for a walk. Do not follow me.”

I put up my hands and watch him walk out of the front door.

Agreed - I wish I had been able to see the signs all of those years ago, but I kept my eyes trained to see one thing that spiraled into another that spiraled into another.

I hate him to he’s a nice guy to he’s a good friend to he’s my best friend. All the way toI love him.

I didn’t have the right lens to see Tucker through anything other than the shifts and changes in my own perception. I can’t just let it go. If I walk out of this vacation without hearing what he wants, feeling himself be wild and relaxed with me, knowing he didn’t hold anything back and he was completely honest, then I’ll spend forever wondering what could have been.

Chapter Thirty-One

Today

I didn’t bother him at dinner. I didn’t bother him when we sat by the fire or when he asked if anyone else wanted a boat ride. I didn’t mention sleeping arrangements or try to push myself onto him. Now it’s dark and I can’t lay in this bed alone, thinking about it any longer.

I hear him swimming out there. For him, gliding through the water and pushing it away might be the equivalent of my love for grand allegros in ballet. It’s my favorite thing to do. I love the push of my body, the rush, the way my legs kick out and I’m suspended for a moment. I stretched so much as a kid because I wanted that perfect saut de chat. I wanted to fly.

I’m not a good swimmer. I get too fatigued.

He’s out there, moving his body, and all I want is for him to be inhere, moving mine. Even after so many years, I’ve never wanted anyone to touch me more than I want him. I’ve wanted it since that first kiss. But now, it’s different.

Tucker’s foreign to me. Yet, he’s not. He has a life in Savannah with people I don’t know, but I know every other important thing about him. There’s something so safe about knowing someone your whole life. I know his motives, I know how he would treat me.

I climb out of bed and walk through the quiet, dark kitchen in my tank top and shorts.

I’m dying to know what we would be like together, now. It feels like we’re half in the middle of it. The last time we almost had sex he tore himself from me and we never had a resolution. We weren’t seventeen and kissing on a vacation. There’s nothing innocent or hormonal about what we did on my hotel bed after the wedding.

He doesn’t look up when I walk out of the sliding glass doors. He can’t hear me. I stand at the edge of the pool, my hands on my hips. He reaches my side and pops his head out of the water.

“What are you doing?” he breathes, brushing his wet hair from his face.

“What areyoudoing?” I counter.

“What time is it?”

“Late.”

“Why aren’t you in bed?”

“Because you’re not. And you’re avoiding me.” I stare at him and listen to the rhythmic waves he created. “Tucker, we’ve got to have it out.”

He bites his lip. “I don’t know what you mean.”

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