The Legacy (Off-Campus Book 5)

Day 5

This trip is one indignity after another. The day after Alexander forces himself back into our lives, Tucker and I both wake up feeling like pieces of fried chicken. We spend the morning slathering aloe on each other while putting towels down so we don’t ruin the expensive white couch in the living room. We alternate between that and lying on the cold marble floor.

“Maybe we should just call it,” I tell Tucker.

“Call it?”

“Accept defeat and go home.”

“You want to leave?” Plastered to the floor, he turns his face to look up at me where I lie facedown on the couch because even the air touching my back feels like a million fire ants feasting on my flesh.

“We’re halfway through this trip, and at this rate we’ll end up dead before it’s over. And I miss Jamie. A few minutes on the phone isn’t enough. And who knows what your mom is feeding her.”

“I miss her too, but they’re fine.” He sits up, wincing when the side of his thumb accidentally brushes his sunburnt stomach. “I know there’ve been a few bumps, but we’re not going to get another chance at this for a while once you start your new job.”

“Don’t remind me.”

It’s the constant thought that’s stalked me every day since graduation. I’m no closer to a decision while the stress of making the wrong choice mounts like my throat is filling with sand. And, frankly, I don’t appreciate Tucker piling more guilt on me for our much-delayed honeymoon going to hell.

“What’s that look?” he demands, because he can read me like a book.

“Nothing.”

“Sabrina.”

I sit up too, trying to stop the words biting on my tongue. But they spill out anyway. “I’m sorry my career is ruining everything for you.”

“Hey. That’s not what I said. But for what it’s worth, having to choose between two pretty great opportunities isn’t an awful problem to have. At least you’re excited about both jobs.”

“Unlike you, right? You, who couldn’t be bothered to tell me you were unhappy with your job.”

He gets to his feet, whiskey-brown eyes narrowing. “What do you want to hear? That I’ve barely got anything to do at the bars? That they run themselves and I’m bored shitless?” His jaw tightens. “I collect the checks, yeah, but I feel useless.”

“And you should’ve told me all that months ago,” I say, my tone a tad sharper than I intend.

“Well, I’m telling you now. I’m dying of boredom, but I don’t say anything because I’m trying not to put more pressure on you.”

“So now it’s my fault you’re miserable?”

“Is there a draft in here?” he says with bitter sarcasm. “Where are you hearing this, because those aren’t my words.”

“Whatever. I guess it’s all in my head, right?”

I go upstairs, which effectively tables the discussion. But the can of worms we’ve opened can’t be unopened. We only skirted around the issue, dipped our toes in a pool of resentment I hadn’t realized was there.

It’s only later, once the sun’s gone down, that shit gets real. We decide to take a walk on the beach, because we’re both going stir crazy and neither of us want to admit what’s been coming since we woke up cranky this morning. The lid rattling on the boiling pot, water threatening to spill over the edge.

“I mean it,” I say while staring straight ahead. “Let’s just change our tickets and fly home early. If we’re just going to sit around the house, we might as well do it at home with our daughter.”

The moon is bright and full over our heads. The sun, having just dipped below the horizon, finally giving way to a cool breeze to offer some relief from the thick humidity and our throbbing sunburns.

“Christ, Sabrina, just once can you make us a priority?”

I stop in my tracks, spinning to face him. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. School, work, Jamie, even a goddamn last will and testament takes precedence over me. Somehow, I always fuckin’ end up at the bottom of your priority list. Do you remember why we came here?” Tucker huffs an angry breath. “It was to get some time together. I never see you at home. We can’t get five minutes alone. And that’s not gonna get any better once you accept that stupid ninety-hour-a-week job.”

“Oh, so that’s how you really feel, huh? You were the one telling me to take the offer from the bigger firm.”

“Because I know it’s what you really want,” he snaps back, raising his voice.

“So you lied.”

“Give me a break, Sabrina.” He drags his hands through his hair, yanking. As if I’m not justified in my frustration. “You’d hate practicing civil law. It’d bore you silly.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

I almost scream. “Oh my God. Stop being Mr. Agreeable and all supportive and, like, Don’t worry, darlin’, you do whatever you need to do and I’ll be A-okay over here. Just one fucking time, why don’t you tell me what you want?”

Exasperation floods his expression. “I want to have my wife home more than a couple hours a day!”

I rear back, stunned.

Tucker looks equally startled by his uncharacteristic outburst. He draws a breath, his arms dropping to his sides. “But I bite my tongue because I want to support you, no matter what you choose.”

“Is this about Tucker’s Bar? Do you think me taking this job means you’re, what, stuck there?”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do about the bar. I care that you’re happy.”

“How am I supposed to be happy if you’re pissed off at me all the time?”

I’m not interested in one of those resentful marriages where we’re both suffering in silence, enslaved by our choices until we grow to hate each other. I certainly don’t want that for Jamie.

“How am I the bad guy for trying to be supportive?”

“Being passive-aggressive doesn’t feel supportive.” My frustration reaches sky-high levels. “And what the hell am I supposed to do if you’re not being honest with me? You encourage me to prioritize everything but you, and then get mad at me when I take you at your word? How is that fair? I need to be able to trust what you’re telling me, damn it.”

“Fine.” Tucker throws his hands up and turns away. “I give up.”

“Where are you going?” Gaping, I watch him stomp in the direction of the house.

“Into town for a drink,” he barks over his shoulder. “I’m taking the Jeep.”

Of course. This disaster of a honeymoon wouldn’t be complete without a fight erupting into a major tantrum. Tucker leaves me there with the waves and moonlight. Sand between my toes. It’s at least the prettiest place I’ve ever been abandoned.

“Lover’s quarrel?”

I’m startled when Kevin and Bruce emerge from a nearby cluster of palms, approaching with a flashlight.

I bite my lip. “I think the heat’s finally gotten to his head.”

“Forgive us,” Kevin says. “We happened to overhear you from the terrace and walked down to make sure everything was all right.”

Embarrassment warms my cheeks when I realize we’re in front of their property. “Sound really carries out here, huh?”

He offers a sympathetic shrug. “It really does.”

“Sorry about that,” I tell them. A tired sigh slips out. “Turns out we packed all our problems but not enough sunscreen.”

Kevin glances over and lightly touches Bruce’s massive biceps. “See if you can catch up to him? Make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble.”

“Would you?” I ask, relieved.

I’m not thrilled about the idea of Tucker running around a strange town alone. Especially if he’s drinking. With our luck, he’d end up driving the Jeep off a pier or something. I’d go after him myself, but I get the feeling Bruce will have better luck talking him down from bad decisions. I’d probably accidentally push him to make more.

“No sweat.” Bruce gives me a reassuring nod before jogging after Tucker.

Kevin invites me up to their villa for a glass of wine to calm the nerves while we wait for our men to return. Sitting by the pool, I find myself unloading all the pent-up stress of the last several days on this poor, unwitting man.

“It’s nothing special, I guess. I’m sure all couples constantly fight about work and time and figuring out the future. And yeah, I know we’re pretty fortunate to be in literal paradise complaining about people throwing money at us. I just mean, as a couple, as parents, this stuff matters, right?”

“It does,” he says patiently.

“I just wish he would tell me what he was actually feeling instead of pretending like it’s all good, all the time.”

Kevin chuckles. “In his defense, a lot of men have trouble sharing their emotions. The entire romance self-help industry would crumble if that were not the case. Men are from Mars, remember?”

“I guess. But I didn’t realize Tucker was one of them. He’s always been so candid with me, or at least I thought he was.” I gulp down some more wine. “I’m not a mind reader. If he doesn’t feel like he’s a priority for me, he needs to tell me. How am I supposed to change my behavior if I don’t even realize I’m behaving badly?” A groan slips out. “And now I feel awful. You know what? I should just accept the second job offer. It’s less exciting work, but the hours are much better and the money is still good. And then I can be home with Tucker and Jamie more.”

Honestly, it’s not like Tucker hasn’t been accommodating. All through law school and the pregnancy, he never once complained about making dinner or cleaning the apartment. Changing diapers or getting up at four a.m. to rock Jamie back to sleep. Just so I wouldn’t have to stop studying. And he did it all with that easy smile of his, taking it in stride.

“He’s not so out of line to want me to give a little reciprocation,” I admit. “So he has the space to figure out what’ll make him happy, find a new business to set up. Whatever it is.”

“Sounds like you two care very much about each other’s wellbeing,” Kevin remarks, smiling. “That’s a good place to start.”

“It still feels like this trip has been a total bust. At this point we’re not even speaking.”

“You owe it to yourselves to try salvaging something out of it. I can’t deny you’ve had some bad luck, but it can’t last forever. A few good days might be worth the bad, if you give it time.” He laughs again. “You want to know what a total bust is? Let me tell you about the first vacation Bruce and I ever took. We were on the Amalfi coast and—”

His phone rings, lighting up. Since it’s sitting between us on the pool deck, I clearly see Bruce’s photo flashing on the screen.

Kevin wastes no time answering. “Everything—” He barely gets the word out before he’s cut off by Bruce on the other end. He listens, then asks, “Where?” His eyes flick to mine.

A knot forms in my gut.

“How much?”

It tightens, stretching against my insides.

“We’ll be right there.” Kevin ends the call and takes a breath before setting his face in a neutral expression.

“What happened?” My fingernails dig into my palms, bracing.

“Well, here’s the thing… Your husband’s been arrested.”