“Why?”
“You’re successful and talented, well-liked. You can do so much better than a divorced, single mom, college drop out.”
“Stop it,” he snapped, fighting not to shake her as his temper flared at every person who’d ever put her down or made her feel small and stupid. “You were a National Merit Finalist, for God’s sake. You’re smart and beautiful and resilient. That didn’t change just because you didn’t end up taking the traditional college path. You’ve put yourself through nursing school, while working a full-time job and being a single parent. Do you have any idea how many people would’ve crumbled under a weight like that? But you didn’t. Then Mama Pearl and I put something else on your plate, something you didn’t have time for. And you did it anyway because you didn’t want to let anyone down. So I tried to do a few things to make that a little easier on you. It’s not a big deal.”
“But it is. You do these things, things that are effortless to you that mean everything to me.” One hand fisted over her heart and she looked up, those wounded eyes that had first pulled him boring into his. “It makes me feel things, Tucker, and that scares the shit out of me.”
For the first time since the argument began, the clamp around his own heart loosened. Tucker gentled his voice as he ran his hands down her arms to lace his fingers with hers. “Well join the damned club. I’ve been off balance and feeling things for you for almost a year. But I’m not running from it. If you need some time to settle, to get used to the idea, fine. But don’t throw up road blocks just because you’re scared. We’re too good together.”
Corinne looked down at their hands. “I was all set to walk away from you. To get out of this before you had the power to hurt me.” She blew out a breath. “Too late.”
He stepped into her. “Do you still want to walk?”
She looked up at him, those blue eyes bright and searching. “No,” she whispered. “I never wanted to walk. I was just—”
“Afraid. I get it. I’m going to stick, Corinne. Until you believe it. However long it takes.”
She didn’t believe him. He could see it in her face. But she wasn’t running, so that had to count for something.
“I can’t promise I won’t freak out again. I’ve got issues, Tucker.”
He snaked his arms around her waist. “We’ll work through them together.”
Her hands slid up to his shoulders. “You’re a remarkably steady man, Counselor.”
“That a good thing?”
“From where I’m standing, absolutely.”
“Good.” He tipped forward, intending to kiss her.
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
“Because we have an audience.”
Tucker turned his head to look back toward the house. Sure enough, nearly a dozen faces were pressed against the glass.
“They?
??re shipping us anyway. We might as well give them something worth watching.” And he took her mouth with his.
~*~
“That. Was. Awesome!” Kurt’s enthusiastic endorsement of their performance meant more to Corinne than the thundering applause that had barely died down from the ballroom. “You even have the bagel hair!”
She laughed. “Yes, yes I do.” And had that been a challenge to execute. But absolutely worth it for the look of total enchantment on her son’s face. “You know, Tucker picked the music special for you.”
Kurt swung toward him, dark eyes big and round in surprise. “Really?”
“Really.” Tucker ruffled his hair, crouching down in the short, Episode IV style tunic Luke had worn. Corinne had been privately disappointed he hadn’t gone with Han Solo. With his swagger, he’d have made a great scoundrel. But he’d made the reasonable argument that Han had never carried a lightsaber, so Babette from Brides and Belles had fashioned costumes in matching white.
Mama Pearl beamed her approval. “I’m bettin’ that’s another winner of a performance. No way you’re gettin’ cut tonight.”
Corinne agreed but figured it was bad luck to say it out loud. “Well, we’ll see.”
“Either way, since the performance is done, we won’t be needing these anymore.” Tucker held up his lightsaber. Dropping to one knee, he presented it to Kurt. “For you, young padawan.”