Freeform (8 page)

“May I take your jacket?” June drops her arm and allows me to remove it. Once it's draped over his arm he asks, “May I take your purse as well, Miss Bailey?”

She hands him the object, wraps her arm back around mine, and politely nods. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he gives her a polite nod himself. With a wave of his hand he says, “Everyone has already settled in the dining room.”

The two of us give him one final smile before he takes a left as we take a right.

Gawk all you want. You don't have to tell me how much you feel lost in a Disney princess' castle. I grew up in this monstrosity. Keep in mind when my father was alive there was a lot less crystal and glass. His tastes were less extravagant. Just add that to the list of ways my mother changed after he died. Should we have June start us one?  

In a low voice, she asks, “Exactly how long has it been since you were last here?”

Her question causes me to tense. “About five years.”

“Five years?!” She shrieks only a tad bit louder. “You haven't been home in five years!”

“I haven't been to this
house
in five years. Home is where the art is, so I'm always home.”

“You mean heart.”

“Can't spell heart without art.”

She stifles the obvious urge to snap. “Why haven't you been back?”

“Does it matter?”

She rushes to stand in front of me. “Of course it matters! You haven't been here in five years yet tonight, all of a sudden, you're
willing
to come back?”

I correct her with a pointed finger. “No. No. Not
willing
at all. You're the one who came to collect me. If you recall I tried to persuade you to do a number of
other
things.”

Like allow me to have another round of making her come from my fingers or tongue. Would've been receiver’s choice.

“Tucker.”

A heavy sigh escapes and I shove my hands into my dress pants pockets. “Fine. You're right. I more or less
willingly
came as a favor to my
aunt
. She doesn't usually ask for much, so when she does, I try to do my best to fulfill the request.”

It's the least I can do for the woman who lets me secretly crash in her guest house when I come to town. Though the requests for me to attend the wedding reception isn't one I'm sure I can stomach, no matter how many times she's let me sneak in and out of town without alerting any one.

June lifts her eyebrows in suspicion. “When's the last time you actually talked to your
mother
?”

“We talk every year on her birthday, my birthday, Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

She calls on the anniversary of my dad's death, but I never answer.

“This is going to be awkward.”

“Most likely.”

Her head falls backwards on a defeated whine. “Why me?”

I whisper and give her ass a small squeeze as I pass her. “Bet you wish you would've taken me up on my offer to let me make you come instead.”

Most women would've jumped at the chance, especially if they had already received a sample. June only looked slightly excited. Her lack of instant submission to a naughty look and dirty wink is refreshing. And challenging. Almost like marble that refuses to conform to the carving. How is it one woman continues to grow more attractive?

As I enter the formal dining room used for smaller dinners, I force a smile onto my face.

To no surprise my mother is complaining, “Of course he's not going to bother showing up, Brandi. He hates me.”

“
Hate
is a strong word.”

My argument turns her head and grabs the attention of my aunt, my uncle, and a strange man I can only assume is going to attempt to take my father's place.

It's not something he should bother trying.

“Oh my,” her voice cracks while her eyes watch June and I travel to seats opposite of my aunt and uncle.

June bumps into the chair I'm trying to pull out for her. “Ou...”

I quietly whisper, “You okay?”

She nods away her embarrassment.

My mother shifts in her seat, her quivering hand slightly blocking her scarlet painted lips.

She looks like a high class escort with all that make up. She should wear less. She
used
to wear less. Dad liked her natural look. He loved to see the actual elegance of her without the false and unnecessary coating from layers of makeup. He taught me to appreciate the true grace in a woman's vulnerable exposure. Dad used to say when a woman lets you see what she naturally looks like in the morning, she's given herself completely to you. I've had many women in my expeditions, many claim they're all mine, many willing to marry me and offer their life to me, yet I was never given the simplest chance to admire them in their most bare beauty.

After she draws in a calming breath, she states, “You're...you're...you're actually here.”

“I am.”

“In the...in the flesh.”

“Decorated, but still mine nonetheless.”

She gives June a startled glance. “And you brought a date?”

“That's just June,” Aunt Brandi brushes off. “She's nobody important. Just my assistant. You've met her before.”

Hearing the words irks me more than expected. “That's where you're wrong Aunt Brandi. June
is
something special.”

June shakes her head and whispers to me, “I'm really not.”

“You really are.”

She shakes her head again and denies to me, “I'm not,” and then quickly to my mother, “I'm-I'm-I'm really not. It's okay you don't remember me. I'm not- I- I probably wouldn't even remember me.”

My hand lands on her thigh preparing to continue this argument despite where we are.

She has to eventually see how amazing she is. Maybe that's why Fate smashed us together. So I could show her that.

Her hand lands on top of mine at the same time Aunt Brandi clears her throat, a mischievous grin growing. “It was my mistake, Tucker. She is
very
important, especially for the next few weeks.”

The stern look slumps June into her seat.

Don't give me that look. I can't stay just to make June look good in my aunt's eyes. Hey- Just give me- Fine. I'll figure something out! I'll find a way so my leaving doesn't ruin June's career, alright?

“I'm...surprised to see you,” my mother cautiously continues. “I mean in person instead of on a phone screen.”

I try to offer her a less painful smile.

Skype chats don't require me to be in the same room with the person who blew off my father's death like it was a pet dying rather than an actual person. Doesn't require me to stare into the blue eyes I was given, for longer than a few seconds.

“David Stintson, I'd like you to meet my son Tucker.” Her tone immediately softens, admiration and warmth so overwhelming, it churns my stomach. “Tucker this is my fiance, David.”

How can she sound so happy to be with a man who isn't her soul mate? Who isn't the man who helped birth her fucking son? How can she sit there smiling like he’s some reward from Fate rather than the consolation prize he actually is?

Salad is placed in front us. Without making eye contact to the man sitting where my dad always refused, I manage to muster up, “Hello.”

“Hey!” The enthusiasm in his voice is also nauseating.

He didn't just win a Nobel Peace Prize for getting to meet the son of the woman he's banging.

“It's nice to finally meet you, Tucker. Your mother's told me so much about you and your artwork.”

“There would be more to tell if you would let us put one of your pieces in the hotel lobby here in town,” Aunt Brandi tries to tempt me with the same offer I always refuse. “Or maybe in the offices?”

I shake my head at her. “Not happening.”

Aunt Brandi shrugs. “It was worth a shot.”

“I think it would be sweet seeing your work every morning on my way in,” June quietly agrees from beside me. My hand, which is still on her thigh, begins to give it a gentle stroke as our eyes connect. “It would give the building a little extra something special.”

We linger in the moment and for a brief moment I forget there are other people outside of us.

“Would it help remind you that you're not as invisible as you think are? Would an action like that be
valued
?”

June slowly nods. “Every day.”

David interrupts, “Your mother did mention none of your artwork was displayed at the offices or hotels and that her parents hope to someday change that. I think I'm with everyone else. Seeing your artwork on a daily would definitely unite this family.”

I have a chomp of my salad. “Implying we're
not
united now.”

David tries to correct, “I didn't mean it that way. What I meant was-”

“Because I refuse to paint something commercial to sit in a case like an NFL trophy- no offense Uncle Brett-”

“None taken.”

“-that means I'm wishing division upon my family or are you simply implying there is division already here and it's my fault, so the only way to undo it, is by creating a miraculous peace painting?”

June's thumb tries to give me a soothing rub.

“Tucker,” Aunt Brandi fusses. “Relax. I think David was just...trying to...offer his opinion and be part of the conversation.”  

David nods and extends his hand her direction. “Precisely.”

I give his small, squirrel like appearance a small glare.

No. I didn't think I was going to handle all this
this
poorly, but he needs to remember his place. No matter how long he screws my mother in the sheets or out of cash, he will
never
belong here. This will
never
be his mom or his family.

“You said she told you about my artwork?”

“She did.”

“She tell you the painting to your right was a present I gave her and my father for their twentieth anniversary?”

“Tucker,” my mother fusses.

David's brown eyes soften. “She did not. It's a lovely creation.”

“It's a pop art rendering of their first kiss.”

“Tucker!” She squeaks louder.

“I listened to that story, over and over and over again growing up.” Despite her pleas for me to stop, I continue, “I listened to that story so many times, I could retell it in my sleep. He loved every minute of that day like it was the moment his entire life began.”

“Tucker!” The appalled sound in her voice causes June to tap me as if to say it's enough.

Fine. A little out of line there.

“So where ya been?” Uncle Brett speaks loudly to grab my attention.

A heavy sigh escapes and I pick my fork back up in an effort to refocus my attention on eating. “Hawaii.”