And maybe somehow, some way, I can convince Maisey that I truly am sorry for what I did to her when we were kids.
Chapter Three
Maisey
“My brother wants me to convince you that he’s really a good guy,” Stella says as her way of greeting when I answer my phone Monday morning.
My stomach flutters at the mention of Stella’s brother. This means Tucker has been talking about me. To his sister. Maybe to other members of his family as well. I shouldn’t like this. I should be irritated.
But deep down, I sort of like it.
Fine. I really like it. His talking about me means he’s also thinking about me. And I’m thinking about him. What does this mean?
Nothing really.
I guess.
“He’s a jerk,” I tell her as I collapse onto my couch. I usually don’t go into work on Mondays unless I have an appointment with a client. I have exactly one appointment at three that came across my website appointment scheduler late last night, and it’s for an anniversary cake. Which isn’t that unusual, but I normally meet with engaged couples planning their wedding. This appointment should be—every pun intended—a piece of cake. “And you can tell Tucker I said that.”
Stella laughs. “No way. That’ll make him want me to convince you even more.”
“Convince me of what? I don’t know why I need convincing.” It was so weird to see Tucker last night. I needed more orange extract and I went to our local grocery store that carries a variety of things you don’t see at the average supermarket. I found what I was looking for, was ready to hustle my butt out of there, and instead, my butt collided with a solid wall of man muscle.
Tucker McCloud.
“He thinks you hate him,” Stella tells me.
“He’s right. I do hate him,” I say without hesitation.
Stella heaves an irritated sigh. “You do not. You’re over him, remember?”
I do remember telling Stella that back in high school. I told all of my friends that because otherwise, I looked pitiful. And I didn’t want to be that girl, sad and heartbroken over her older boyfriend who dumped her and took off to college to become a huge sensation. That wasn’t me.
I pretended instead. Acted like I moved on, that I was having fun. It was my senior year! Time to live it up before reality set in.
No one knew I nursed a broken heart for most of that year, with the exception of my sister. Brooke has always been there for me.
Jeez. Brooke. I need to tell her I ran into him.
“Fine, I don’t hate him,” I admit to Stella when I realize she’s waiting for me to say something. “But I don’t necessarily want to be his friend either.”
“Why not?”
“Why should I? This is the first time I’ve seen him here in years.” I stress the last word. “I’m assuming he never comes home to visit you guys like, ever?”
“He came home for Mom’s birthday because I guilt tripped him into doing it,” Stella confesses. “The guy is never around for any holiday function. Like ever.”
“Right. No surprise.” He’s a total disappointment to the family, I’m sure.
“It’s because he really is busy. He sends the most elaborate gifts for all of us for our birthdays and Christmas. He does take care of us.” Stella hesitates. “But I told him he needs to actually show his face here once in a while. I made him feel guilty.”
“Good.” I am a rude, awful person for saying that out loud.
“He’s not a bad person, Maise. Mom and Dad are so proud of him.” I can hear the pride tinge her voice too. The McClouds are all proud of Tucker’s success. As well they should be. The guy is an NFL sensation. A great player who is paid well, and I’m sure he’ll take care of his family as best as he can as long as the money keeps rolling in.
“Of course they are.”
“He paid off their mortgage. Paid off Georgia’s too. Tried to pay off Hunter’s, but he wouldn’t let him,” Stella continues.