Page 44 of Fierce Love
“The gated two-story with the ocean view?”
“It doesn’t look like much from the road because it’s so far away with so many trees, but when I saw it from the water…” I trail off, unable to adequately explain how much I loved it. The house reminded me of photos I’d seen of antebellum houses in the United States. “The double balcony and the huge pillars—every time I look at it, I just think it looks like home.” I let out a self-conscious laugh. “Why would I even think that? Stupid, right?”
“Why would it be stupid?”
“I would have to win the lottery to afford that house in my lifetime.” Which reminds me of the comment my mother made, and I shake my head, realizing I need a new topic. I’d never want Nate to think he was my lottery. “I’m sure your house is also amazing. Have you always lived here?”
“As the story goes, my mother didn’t like the original Tucker home that was here, so she had it torn down. Built this instead. That was back when my father ascribed to the ‘happy wife, happy life’ mantra. He outgrew that real fast, by all accounts.” We emerge from the tree cover to loop into the circular drive, and I can’t help drawing in a sharp breath. It’s the biggest house I’ve ever seen up close. It’s probably a mansion or a palace or something much grander thanhouseby definition.
“That’s what one hundred thousand square feet looks like, which is technically bigger than the palace… according to my mother.” He shrugs and parks his car next to the other high-end vehicles sitting outside the spacious garages. There are six garage doors.Six. The front entrance looks like an expensive, luxury hotel, not a house.
Other than when we went shopping, this is the first time Nate’s level of wealth has felt truly staggering. We spend so much timein my neighborhood or at the campground that I’m not sure I fully realized how much money his family has. Of course, Iknew—everyone on the islandknows—but that’s not the same as understanding.
Staff greet us at the door, warm and friendly to Nate, assessing me. I never asked him if he’s brought a girl home before, but their behavior makes me wonder.
Once we’re in the entrance, they take my clutch, and I peer past the wide staircase to the ocean beyond. The ceilings are extremely tall, and the windows are expansive and all-encompassing. As soon as we pass the staircase, cliffs and ocean dominate the view.
“I can’t believe you live like this,” I say, almost breathless with the beauty of the house and the land and the fact that Nate is growing up here. “I don’t think I’d ever leave.”
He lets out a tight chuckle. “The view is spectacular, and the house is huge.”
Heels click on the marble floor, and I turn to see Maren and Sawyer coming toward us in pretty summer dresses, their hair and makeup done.
“Mom insisted we dress up. Calista, the newest nanny, is still upstairs trying to wrangle Ava and Gage into something other than pajamas,” Sawyer says with an eye roll. “Both of them have decided that today is opposite day—whatever my mom wants, they’ll do the opposite. Dinner should be fun.”
“At least it’ll keep Mom distracted and gritting her teeth over them instead of anything else,” Maren says, a false bright smile on her face. “Since they’re being such little devils, Calista will be forced to eat with us, too, so Mom can shoot daggers at her for being unable to control Gage and Ava instead of at other people.”
Nate slides his hand into mine and squeezes, and I realize he’s nervous. Despite everything he’s told me the last few weeks about his mom’s bark being worse than her bite, that storiesabout her are exaggerated, despite the comments his sisters have made when we’ve run into them, this is the first time I’ve doubted him.
“All right,” a female voice says from the top of the staircase, her tone echoing through the space below. “I don’t care what you have to do to get clothes on those children, but it needs to be done. No one is going to the dinner table in pajamas. Tuckers don’t do that.”
Heels click across the floor, and the three siblings exchange a loaded glance that I can’t quite interpret.
“Mother,” Nate says, turning toward Celia Tucker, “this is—”
“Hollyn Davis,” Celia drawls, and one edge of her lips tips up, which reminds me of the expression my mother wore earlier. Two women used to getting what they want, whatever the cost. “It’s lovely to finally meet you.” But her tone doesn’t make it sound lovely.
“Thank you so much for having me,” I say, confused for a beat about whether I should be curtseying or something similar, like I would for the royals. The way she carries herself is so different from Nate, who seems so normal in comparison.
Jonathan appears from the bar area with a tumbler in his hand, and I wonder if he was there the whole time.
“There you are,” Celia says, a hint of exasperation in her tone. “Go upstairs and sort out your children.”
“My children?” He raises his eyebrows. “You wanted them.”
“I wanted babies. These preteens are a nightmare. Children should come with warning labels.”
Jonathan approaches me and extends his hand. “Jonathan Tucker. Apologies for the chaotic start. Our two youngest aren’t well trained.”
From what Nate has told me, it’s unlikely they ever will be. Nate says they inherited a version of the “don’t give a fuck” gene that skipped Nate, Sawyer, and Maren. According to Nate, thethree oldest know where the lines are and generally keep within them, but the two youngest gleefully run straight through the lines as though they don’t exist.
“Oh, it’s…” I give Nate a quick glance, unsure how to answer. “Families are complicated.”
“Yes,” Jonathan says, sipping his drink. “I’m sure you’d have learned that lesson well by now.”
“Dad,” Nate says, his voice tight.
“No point in avoiding the obvious, son. The Davis sisters have been well-known around this island for a long time, and while Verna might have settled down, I think Mickie’s only gotten worse.”
