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We’re slower than on Saturday, taking our time kissing, caressing, finding out how our skin fits for what seems like hours.

I don’t fight it on Tuesday either, and by Wednesday I realize fighting it is useless.

When I get the call from Luxton right before dinner, I take it with the knowledge that whatever they say won’t change how I feel, even if it does change my circumstances.

“What did they say?” Tucker asks, anxiously looking up at me from the kitchen table where he and the boys are waiting for me to start dinner.

My shaky smile probably isn’t showing, it’s just more evidence of the turmoil of emotions inside me.

“I have another interview in two weeks.”

Tucker jumps up and celebrates like one of his teams just broke some record, and the boys follow his lead.

Even while my heart breaks at the possibility of not spending every day of the week with them, I smile, because despite my happy childhood, my good parents, my lovely ordinary siblings, I have never felt more loved.

The boys have a harder time falling asleep that night, and for the first time, they want me to read them a story.

I frown over at Tucker when they ask, and he just shrugs, so I don’t think he told them what it means for me to get an interview, that it will mean not being with them every day.

Enjoy the moments, I remind myself, and spend a delightful half an hour with the boys until they fall asleep.

Tuck waits for me outside their bedroom just like I did, and then he pulls me up to his room.

“Can I ask you something?” I bite my lip, knowing very well that he’s probably not going to say anything I’m gonna love hearing.

“Sure,” he says easily and sits at the foot of his bed.

I join him and breathe in deeply.

I can do this.

I can’t actually.

What I really want to know gets stuck halfway up my throat, and what comes out instead is . . . well, I didn’t know how curious I was about this.

“What is up with Eli? And his . . . contacts?” That’s a politically correct way to ask, isn’t it?

Tucker’s smile softens, and when he takes my hand I feel it tremble once. He’s nervous.

But why?

“There are things that I’ll never be able to explain to you, Sunny.” That . . . is not the answer I expected, but it does make sense, I think. “I told Wes he couldn’t go with us, remember? And that isn’t the only time I’ve done it, it definitely won’t be the last, and next time I do it, you also won’t be able to come with me. You won’t know where I’m going, won’t be able to reach me for a while until I come back.”

“That sounds . . .” Fuck, how do I even describe it? “Intense?” That’s an understatement.

“It is.” He nods, looking down at our linked hands. “This is a part of my life you’ll simply have to deal with.” There’s no apology in his tone, and for whatever reason, that helps me make a bit more sense of it in my head.

This piece of the puzzle is blurred, colorless and shapeless, but it fits the overall picture. It doesn’t ruin it.

“Do you think I could ever hurt undeserving people?”

The question throws me off enough that I lean back, really get a good look at Tucker—who’s never looked smaller. I didn’t even know he could look small.

“No.” The answer comes into my brain—final, easy, and true.

I might not know everything there is to know about Tucker Barclay, and from what he’s saying, I never will, but what I do know is he’s not cruel, he’s not careless, no matter how hard he works to appear that way.

He nods, and sighs with obvious relief. “That’s all you need to know about me, and about Eli.”