Wild Side (Rose Hill #3)

40. Tabitha

CHAPTER 40

TABITHA

The kitchen’s buzz on a Friday night invigorates me. I walked into work feeling a little blue, but it wasn’t due to any of the usual suspects. It was because Rhys is leaving in the morning. I considered calling off and spending the night at home with him and Milo, but being a responsible adult and business owner won out.

And now that I’m out the door, I’m glad I’m here, doing the things that make me, well, me. It would be easy to get swept up in this euphoric feeling I have with Rhys, but there’s still this part of me that knows I need to protect myself and everything I’ve built.

This part knows that it’s all fast and new and we have a long way to go. I know relationships aren’t easy—I’ve watched my parents struggle through some of the hardest shit two people can face. And I don’t want to take it lightly and wander around with stars in my eyes.

I want to do it right. For Milo. For Rhys. But most of all, for myself. I owe it to myself to make a go of this thing, and that means still working and not turning into a lovesick sapfest.

“Kev!” I push the plate back toward the line. One look at the arctic char and I can tell it’s overdone. “Rush a new char, and this time, don’t overcook it.”

“On it, Chef,” he calls back. “Sorry.”

I shrug. Whatever. Shit happens in a busy kitchen. But this is why it’s good that I’m here, plating, quality checking, looking out over my baby. My baby who is still busy even though it’s no longer tourist season. My chest swells with pride.

And then it fills with warmth as a tall figure draws my gaze to the front door. A tall, dark man I’d know anywhere, holding a little boy I’ve loved all his life. He speaks politely to the hostess but gestures toward the bar and meets my gaze from across the restaurant.

He turns heads as he walks through, but I don’t care. The gold of his matching wedding band catches the light, and I take deep satisfaction in knowing he hasn’t gone anywhere without it since the day we said our vows.

“Tabby Cat!” Milo calls, reaching for me from across the room.

“Be right back!” I call to the kitchen staff before rounding the corner out into the dining room. I head straight for them, taking Milo in my arms, though he feels heavier than usual.

“Sir, have you been growing while you were away camping? You need to knock that off. I don’t like it.”

He laughs like I’m ridiculous and leans in to rub his nose against mine—our signature greeting.

“Hi, baby,” Rhys whispers, wrapping an arm around us and dropping a kiss on the top of my head.

I turn into him, letting him fold both arms around us in a bear hug before looking up at him with a smile. “What are you guys doing here?”

He stares down at me, eyes searching my face, before he shrugs. “Milo said he missed you. Figured we’d come in for dinner.”

Milo points a chubby, accusatory finger at Rhys. “You said you miss her too.”

“Oh, did he now?” I ask.

Milo nods solemnly, and Rhys rolls his eyes, trying to play it cool.

And my heart thuds at the sweetness of it.

My boys.

Here I was, missing him, though he hadn’t even left town yet, thinking I was being bizarre about it, but he was feeling the same.

I pop up on my toes and press a quick kiss to his shapely mouth, not caring about the audience one bit. Rhys slips his tongue against mine, sending a shiver down my spine. He’s always had this effect on me, and it hasn’t lessened at all. In fact, it’s getting more intense the better I get to know him.

I pull away, giving him a scolding look even as I lick my lips. He smirks, like he knows what he does to me.

With a shake of my head, I step over to the bar. “You boys, sit. What are you having tonight, Mi?”

“Crème br?lée,” he exclaims, though it sounds more like cram boolay with his toddler pronunciation.

“Healthy food first, little man,” Rhys laughs. Rhys who has been eating copious amounts of chicken and rice since he came back. I swear he eats nonstop.

“I’ll surprise you guys,” is what I settle on before dropping a kiss on Milo’s head and giving the back of Rhys’s hair a flirty little tug.

Then I’m back in the kitchen. Back in the flow. Though my eyes never stray from them. Rhys engages with Milo the entire time, and I watch him teaching Milo how to play tic-tac-toe. His large frame leans in toward the little boy while his huge hand holds the crayon so delicately. Him cutting up Milo’s chicken and blowing on it to cool it down almost puts me over the edge.

They are a gift. And Erika, in her own complicated way, gave them to me. And I love her for it. In all her complex glory, I love her.

I will forever be grateful to her. In fact, I think I understand her better than ever. And my parents too. Things with them have been a tangled mess, but I think I’ve found my way. I’ve made peace with their choices.

And I’ve made peace with mine. I chose Milo and Rhys. And now I can’t get enough of seeing them together. Listening to Rhys read him a bedtime story. Witnessing the way Milo’s entire face lights up when Rhys walks into the room.

Even now, I could watch them together all night.

Milo speaks in toddler, and Rhys makes eye contact with him as he listens. In fact, the kid doesn’t stop talking the entire time, and Rhys can barely get a word in edgewise. It’s like he lights up around Rhys, thrives on his attention.

And when I send them out a crème br?lée to share , I swear Rhys only takes a bite, letting Milo finish the rest. He shoots me a guilty look, and I quirk a brow at him. It sends his attention back to Milo but leaves him smiling.

Smiling.

It makes me realize how much more of that he’s been doing. Like, although no one would believe our story, he somehow ended up happy about it.

I think he’s craved this. Friends. Family. A home. But he never knew how to go about getting it, and somehow being forced into it worked out.

And that night, when we get home with an overtired, over-sugared Milo, who is on the verge of a meltdown, we do another thing Rhys has never done before.

We all crawl into my king-sized bed together.

In the dark, quiet room Rhys whispers, “Night, Mi. Love you, buddy.”

Milo yawns and I can hear the smile in his words when he responds easily with, “Love you too, Ree.”

I brush away the dampness on my lashes as my eyes adjust and the silhouette of them cuddled together takes shape before me. I swear I can feel the love between them.

Then my gaze meets Rhys’s and it just… stays.

I’m not sure how long we lie staring at each other in the dark with a sleeping Milo between us. All I know is that I fall asleep with the warm weight of his eyes on me… and wake up under the same loving gaze.

And when I ask him if he slept at all, he shrugs and says, “Best sleep of my life.”

When the doorbell rings, I expect West is on the other side, so I swing it open, only to come face-to-face with my parents.

“I brought beers, and I want my own chair,” Dad says.

“What are you guys doing here?”

My mom rolls up onto her toes, shrugging her purse higher on her shoulder like she can’t contain her excitement. “We ran into West, and he said you were having people over to watch Rhys on TV.”

“Oh.” Yes. I received a text from West this morning informing me I should host a watch party tonight since I don’t work on Mondays. He invited himself over, and my parents too, apparently.

“Really, Tabby?” My dad rolls his eyes. “You didn’t think to invite us?”

I snort and open the door wider, inviting them in. “You guys know West. He’s like an excited border collie, herding us all together. I didn’t even know I was hosting this until today.”

My parents chatter away happily as more people arrive.

Bash comes first. Gwen comes second. And they are like the same sides of a magnet—they stay as far away from each other as possible. Each takes one of my parents and clearly works hard to engage so they can avoid each other. If I wasn’t so damn nosy, it might be funny. But all it does is make me want to ask what the fuck is the story between them.

Skylar, West, and his two kids, Ollie and Emmy, arrive, and West greets me with his usual enthusiastic “Tabby Cat!”

My lips twitch. He’s impossible not to like, and I love seeing him so happy with Skylar. I hug them both and gesture toward the living room where people are gathering.

“I’m so glad you planned this.” He pushes his shoulder against mine and grins playfully.

“Oh, is that what I did? I planned this? You are like the head of the town social committee or something.”

“West.” Skylar shoots him a look. “Whose idea was this?”

He shrugs. “What? Emmy always says that no just means try harder, and it seems to work for her. Plus, we’re talking about our boy. He’s bad at bowling, but it sounds like he might be good at this. It’s our job to cheer him on.”

My annoyance evaporates, and I’m struck by how much I love this for Rhys. I wish he could see it. “Don’t worry about it. It’s gonna be fun.”

The living room continues to fill, and Milo is thriving with all the attention and the thrill of having other kids around. Cleo makes herself at home on Skylar’s lap, and then more people join the mix. Ford, Rosie, and a chagrined-looking Cora stand at the door.

“Hi!” Rosie says brightly, holding up a bottle of wine. “I brought booze! I know it’s a Monday, but, as they say, it’s Friday somewhere.”

Ford rolls his eyes, but I don’t miss the way his lips twitch. “That’s not possible, Rosie. The saying is?—”

“Whatever. Come on, buzzkill. This will be like sports with a bit of drama. Almost literary in nature. You’ll love it.” She yanks him by the hand, winking at me as she passes, and I can’t help but laugh.

Ford would do anything for Rosie and—as I’ve learned with Skylar and the way he helped her through a career nightmare—for his friends. He might come off as prickly, but he’s a big softie underneath, and I get a kick out of watching my friend keep him on his toes.

I’m left staring at Cora, and we both say, “I’m sorry—” before stopping and laughing.

Her cheeks glow as she says, “Listen, I’m sorry for crushing on your husband. I’m over it now that I know he’s so old.”

I school my features so I don’t burst out laughing. Thirty-five isn’t old, but I don’t tell her that.

“I’m still a fan of him as a wrestler, though, okay? Like I can’t just pick a new fav. So I’m still gonna wear this shirt and shit.” She’s dressed in head-to-toe black with a pink scrunchie in her hair, but her shirt sports the Wild Side logo in lime green.

“It’s a sweet shirt, and Wild Side is pretty cool, so this all makes perfect sense to me. But you don’t need to apologize. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you it was him. He…” I trail off, again analyzing how much I should or should not say. “He’s been very private about his identity, and I was trying to respect that.” It’s not a lie, but it doesn’t give anything away.

Cora gives me a firm nod. “Good. I’m glad he’s with you and not that chick they’re playing off as his girlfriend. I fucking hate that storyline.”

I resist a wince. Deep down, I fucking hate that storyline too, and I’m trying not to let it get to me. I trust Rhys though, and I know it’s just part of the gig. But I’m seriously hoping it doesn’t go too far with everyone here watching.

“Well, get in there.” I hike a thumb over my shoulder. “It’ll be starting soon, and I’ve got snacks and hot appetizers galore.”

Cora’s head tips back, and she groans. “Oh, fuck yeah. I love your cooking.” Her eyes widen like she shouldn’t have sworn in front of me. “Don’t tell my dad.” And with that, she darts into the kitchen and dives into the plates of food set out on the counter.

I prop a shoulder against the spot near the entryway and watch everyone together. Laughing, eating, conversing.

This. This is what I love. It’s why I opened the bistro. It’s why I’ve got a freezer full of meals for Rhys and Milo.

Rhys .

A searing ache hits my chest just thinking about him. I know he’s away doing what he loves, and that makes me happy. But I know this would blow his mind. A room full of people, waiting to watch him do something that he’s hidden for so long.

So I pull my phone out and fire him off a text.

Tabby:

You already in show mode?

Rhys:

Not yet. What’s wrong?

I chuckle down at my screen. Such a worrier.

Then I snap a photo of the living room and send it off to him.

Tabby:

Watch party.

Rhys:

Funny.

Tabby:

What is? I’m serious. Everyone is so excited.

Rhys:

This is actually happening right now?

Yup. It’s blowing his mind. I go out on a limb and send him a video call request. When his face pops up on the screen, I sigh.

“Wild Side. Nice to see you.”

His eyes roll, but it doesn’t stop him from coming back with, “You too, Mrs. Wild Side.”

I’m grinning when I turn the camera around and show him the living room just beyond me. “See? This is actually happening right now.”

His eyes move through, as though soaking up every person crammed into my small house, and all he comes back with is a rough, “Your parents are there?”

“Oh yeah. I think my dad is a little pissed I didn’t think to invite him. Showed up unannounced because he heard about it from West.”

His Adam’s apple bobs. “Wow.”

“An entire enthusiastic cheering section for you up in Canada. Cora even said you’re too old for her to crush on now, but that she’s still a fan, so that was nice.”

“Tell her I’ll get her tickets. But everyone else… they know it’s just a regular Monday night? Like not a special event?”

He sounds so confused.

“I don’t think they care. They just wanna watch you. So win tonight. Or do I need to talk to the writers?”

That draws a gravelly chuckle from him. “Well, I can’t officially say anything, but I don’t think they’ll be disappointed.”

“Excellent. Okay, go kick some ass out there. I just wanted to show you what was going down at home.”

His shoulders heave as he lets out a huge sigh and hits me with a heartfelt, “Thank you, Tabby.”

I smile, trying not to let it turn watery. “Always.” He told me that it may be a few weeks before he comes back, depending on his schedule, and of course, I was fine with it. Just like I need my work, he needs his. That he has a passion for something—that drive, that focus—it’s one of the most attractive things about him.

“We miss you. Please tell Little Willy that I hate his guts.”

Rhys laughs now. “He will certainly get a kick out of that.”

“Okay, bye.”

“Bye.”

I’m about to hang up, but his voice mere seconds later stops me.

“Oh, and, Tabitha? I?—”

He pauses, and my heart seizes, and I wonder if he’s about to say something that will change the game between us. I don’t think I’d even hesitate to say it back.

The silent beat has me on the edge of my seat, but he takes it in another direction. “I miss you guys too.”