Wild Side (Rose Hill #3)

18. Rhys

CHAPTER 18

RHYS

Bash:

You better be fucking ready. Your bride looks beautiful.

Rhys:

I’m ready and waiting.

Bash:

I don’t just mean the wedding. You better be ready to take care of her. She’s been through enough. Everyone wants to see her happy.

Rhys:

I’m ready.

We turn through the doorway at the top of the aisle. My eyes immediately lock with Tabitha’s, and the world stands still.

She’s a vision. Shiny dark hair falling in soft, loose curls. Cheeks flushed. The stark white of her dress makes her skin appear more bronze than usual.

I swallow roughly, reminding myself that this day is a farce. A carefully constructed facade meant to fool everyone.

But not me. I’m not meant to be fooled by it.

Yet here I am, heart pounding in my ears, lungs struggling for air, fucking hearts in my eyes as a woman who tolerates my presence glides down the aisle toward me. It niggles at me that she’s going through with this thinking I betrayed her, but I push my own discomfort aside.

Bash stands at my back stoically, Rosie across from me, and Milo is on the step below me, staring out at the pews. There are only a handful of people in the crowd, none of whom I know. And I don’t even care.

Right now, everything else falls away. My gaze lingers on the subtle up-turn of her lips as she peeks up at her beaming dad. Before I know it, they’re standing in front of me, and I am once again reminding myself to act natural. To play my part. If Tabitha can pull it off, then surely I can too. Hell, half my job is acting. This should be a breeze.

“Sir.” I nod in Paul’s direction as I step down and reach for his hand. We’ve met once. It was nice, but I’d be lying if I said I’m not a little suspicious of how easily they’ve accepted the news of our marriage. I know I’m in on the charade and Tabitha doesn’t need my pity, but there’s this part of me that wants to shake them. Tell them to wake up and notice the burden their daughter has taken on, all for the sake of keeping everyone around her happy.

Over the past weeks, it’s become clear that the only person looking out for Tabitha is Tabitha. And fuck if it doesn’t make me want to look out for her too.

If there’s no one else to take up her cause, it might as well be her husband.

He offers me a firm handshake and a watery smile. “You take good care of my little girl now.”

I nod with conviction, staring back at the much shorter man. “I intend to.” My voice comes out sure and even, full of determination. Because nothing about the sentiment is fake. I intend to take good care of Tabitha—in any way that she’ll let me.

Then her hand is in mine, and I lead her up the low steps to the dais, where I lean toward her and whisper, “You look incredible.” Because I can’t help myself. And because it’s true.

She shivers as she peeks up at me, eyes searching as though to see if I’m telling the truth or not. Then I get a nod along with a quiet and unexpected, “So do you.”

And there’s no snideness to her voice. In fact, I get the sense she’s being entirely genuine. It throws me off, but I don’t get much time to fixate. Within seconds, we stand facing each other, in front of a crowd, and it’s no longer the time or place to be confused by Tabitha Garrison.

“Tabby girl, congratulations.” The officiant smiles at her affectionately, and she gives the same grin back.

I wasn’t expecting Doris, who I’m told owns the bar, to be the one marrying us, but Tabitha insisted, and I have a record of sucking at saying no to her. So here I am, getting married by a woman who reeks of cigarettes and looks like she’s worn baby oil in the sun for decades. But apparently she’s a registered officiant, so whatever.

“Thank you, Doris,” Tabitha whispers back.

“I hope he has a huge dick. It makes the dumb shit men do a lot more forgivable.”

My face goes blank as I stare back at the woman with no filter. Thank fuck, she’s not wearing a mic. Bash groans behind me, and Rosie covers a snort by slapping her hand over her mouth. Tabitha makes a slight choking sound and thumps a fist on her chest.

Doris’s eyes slice in my direction. “Don’t look at me like that, boy. You get to be my age, and you start telling the truth because you’ve quit worrying about offending people.”

I open my mouth to say… I don’t know what I was going to say to that, but I don’t need to say anything, because Tabitha reaches her free hand out to cup the woman’s elbow. “We thank you for your wisdom, Doris.”

Then my fiancée winks at her.

My cheeks flame, and I stare at Tabitha, thinking back to that hallway in the shitty bowling alley where she grabbed my dick with all the confidence in the world.

Then I spiral. Thinking about kissing her. Here. In front of all these people.

The past days have been a blur of planning, and the upcoming nuptials have done nothing to lessen the distance between us. Instead of actively disliking each other, the energy between us has shifted into awkward territory. Tolerable, but slightly embarrassed about where we’ve ended up. No doubt, she’s having second thoughts. I’m positive marrying an emotionally stunted, secretive stranger wasn’t on her bucket list.

“Okay, let’s get started.” Doris claps her hands and looks out over the attendees with a slight smirk. “These two lovebirds are so eager to tie the knot that they asked me to keep things simple, but my romantic side got the best of me when I sat down with a gin and tonic to plan this. So the two of you will just have to deal with the vows I’ve written for you.”

Chuckles and drawn-out awww s filter in, but I barely hear them over the pounding of my heart. Tabitha’s wide eyes focus on mine. I know she told her the simplest vows possible to keep things easy for us, and here we are with a surprise neither of us wanted.

“Without further ado, I ask that you take each other’s hands and repeat after me…”

Tabitha and I reach for each other at the same time. Her hands are small in my clammy ones. She gives me a reassuring squeeze, and I give her a subtle nod back. Then we repeat after Doris, making promises neither of us knows if we can truly keep.

“I, Rhys, promise you, Tabitha, to always respect and admire you and to appreciate you for who you are, as well as the person you become.”

Her eyes turn glassy.

“I promise that your dreams will be our dreams, and that I will do everything I can to make them a reality for both of us.”

My voice grows gravelly. That one rings just a little too true considering the real reason we’re both here today.

“I promise to be a spectator to your life, a participant in your experiences, and your biggest advocate in every moment. I promise to allow you space to be those things in my life too.”

A heavy stone settles in my stomach as those words hang in the air between us. We both know I haven’t been honest or forthcoming with her. And here we are, promising to be.

“I promise to support and encourage you, laugh with you in times of joy, and comfort you in times of sorrow.”

Laugh . I don’t know that I’ve ever laughed with Tabitha. And have I comforted her? Doris’s words on marriage slice me like little paper cuts, each one making me feel more guilty than the last.

“I promise to cherish and reinforce the love between us in good times and in bad, when life is simple and when it’s complicated—when loving you is easy and when it takes effort.”

My shoulders straighten slightly at that one. It doesn’t feel like such a blatant lie, more like what we’re doing here today. We may not love each other, but this marriage could be called caring for each other when life is not simple. There is nothing simple about Tabitha and me.

I pause before repeating the next line Doris feeds me. It’s another thing we haven’t discussed. I’ve always known what type of husband I would be if the day ever came, but what hits me the hardest is that I don’t know if this vow will ring true for Tabitha. And that thought turns my stomach. It makes me irrationally jealous.

So I narrow my eyes at her and brush a thumb over the top of her hand before saying, “I promise to be faithful to you and to place you and our family above all else.”

Tabitha sucks in an audible breath through parted lips, eyes skittering over my face as though looking for proof that I’m lying.

But I’m not.

With a raspy voice, I carry on, professing things to a woman that I never have before.

“I promise to love you completely and unconditionally, today and every day, and to stand at your side always, wherever life takes us together.”

The last line is bittersweet on my tongue. Sweet because in so many ways, this could be us.

Maybe in another lifetime, those things could be true.