Finally, something gave and he laughed. “No. They’re my contribution to this marriage.”
“Huh.”
“You ready?” he asked.
“As I’ll ever be.”
He grabbed the salad, setting it on the table as he left to answer the door. I pulled the quiche out of the oven and brought it to the dining table. I wondered what Meredith would think if she knew Tucker had fucked me on it. Was that traditional? The thought made me smile as I set the quiche down on the table.
“My what a lovely spread,” Meredith said as Tucker brought her to the dining area. “And you cooked. I hope you’re as good as Tucker here,” she said giving Tucker’s bicep a squeeze.
I frowned. I wasn’t sure what was worse; that she was gushing over my man or touching him. I gave myself a mental slap. Tucker wasn’t my man. Not really.
“Careful, Mrs. Reynolds, my wife is a jealous type.”
Meredith laughed. “At my age, if she was jealous of me, I’d think there was something wrong with your marriage. Oh, and please, call me Meredith.”
He held out a chair for her and he reached mine as I started to sit. He squeezed my shoulder in a gesture that I’d seen Wyatt and Ryder do with their wives. I had a pang of wishing it was real, but I was sure he was just giving me reassurance that I could do this.
I served her a slice of quiche and Tucker served her fruit salad.
“My, this fruit is delicious. What’s on it?”
Tucker looked at me.
“Ah…lime juice, a little sugar and…ah…” was it cloves…no ginger. “Ginger.”
Tucker gave me an imperceptible nod.
“It’s lovely. And look how uniform the fruit is in size. I swear, so many people don’t do that and I end up with a mouth of apple too big to chew.”
Tucker had a smug smile as he drank from his glass.
We were able to manage small talk by keeping it away from Tucker and my lives. Instead we discussed Sinclair’s run for mayor.
“You know, I really like Maurice, but the last few months he’s been a bit off, don’t you think?” She shook her head. “I suppose that young woman turned his head. Do you know she’s his best friend’s daughter?”
I glanced at Tucker, wondering how he’d feel about Meredith talking about Brooke. She hadn’t said anything offensive, but there was something to her tone that suggested she disapproved.
“The heart wants what the heart wants,” he said, his gaze returning to mine. Was that code for me? Or just his recognizing that Meredith could be heading down an unpleasant path for him?
“Oh, I know. My Jamison was older than me, but not by that much. Today so much has changed, hasn’t it?”
“I don’t know.” Tucker cut his quiche. “A hundred years ago, a man would marry a much younger woman as a matter of course.”
“I suppose, but usually he was a widower with children and needed a wife to manage the home. It was a matter of survival, really. Today we can marry for love, which is optimal, but still…He could be her father.”
“But he’s not,” Tucker said tightly.
“I think she’s good for him,” I jumped in. “Mo isn’t that old, but you wouldn’t have known it considering how stiff and serious he’d become.”
“Are you saying old people are stiff and serious?” Meredith quirked a brow at me.
Crap. In effort to help Tucker did I just offend Meredith. “Not at all. My point was she has helped him relax and find fun life again.”
“I suppose. I wonder when they’ll have children. I guess she has some time, but still, I think it would help make their marriage more solid if they had kids. It would be harder for her to leave.”
Tucker gaped at her. He started to open his mouth, but I interrupted.