Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Rhett
This wasn’t how I planned our first Thanksgiving back in Heaven going, but plans change, I guess. I never thought Mary London, Silas, and Betsy would be sitting around our table, but I have to say, it was nice. All my preconceived notions about the Winthrop family and people like them were wrong.
Well, except for their father.
My ideas about him were spot on.
“Hey,” I murmur again, stroking Mary London’s back in the cramped bathroom I haven’t had a chance to remodel yet. “It’ll be alright.”
I’m not sure if that statement is correct since she blurted out our secret to exactly the wrong person at the wrong time, but it’s not helpful to pile onto her misery right now.
Mary London lifts her tearstained face. Somehow this woman still looks beautiful with red-rimmed eyes and dripping nose. “I can’t believe I said that! And he was so awful! I’m sorry for ruining Thanksgiving!”
Thing is, I was pissed off when she told her father we were dating, but now, seeing fear stamped across her features, I just want to comfort her more than I want to be right about things. I run my thumbs across her cheeks, trying to wipe away the tears without ruining her makeup.
“Listen, Thanksgiving isn’t ruined. You got a sixteen-year-old happy as a clam we’re dating. Your brother hasn’t barged in here to kill me yet. And Papaw reacted like he’s watching his favorite soap opera play out in front of his eyes. No one thinks Thanksgiving is ruined.”
Mary London sniffles, contemplating my words.
When she inhales deep and pulls away from my grasp, I know she’s gathering herself like she was taught as a young girl.
She’s steeling her spine and tucking away her emotions for a later date when it’s not so public.
I hate that she feels the need to do that, but I’m glad she felt comfortable enough to cry in front of me.
“You’re right. I guess I just panicked. Couldn’t believe Daddy came charging in here and stirred everything up in that toxic way of his.
” She spins and grabs a tissue to dab along her eyes as she looks at her reflection in the mirror over the sink.
“It’s fine. I don’t want to hide our relationship anyway. ”
I run my hand along her back, still trying to soothe her.
She may be putting herself back together in the mirror, but the behavior of her father still has to sting.
Now that the cat’s out of the bag, I don’t think this’ll be the last of hearing people’s opinions about us being together.
I just hope she’s ready for public opinion to turn on her.
“I’m sorry for Papaw’s part in all this. He’s just as bad as your father,” I murmur. I wish she would have waited for the bar to be done to blurt things out, but what’s done is done.
Mary London snorts softly. “Yeah, those two are somethin’ else.”
I sweep her hair over her other shoulder and lean down to kiss her neck. “But what you told your father was amazing. Rylan’s right. You do have some nice comebacks.”
Mary London turns from the mirror, a sweet grin on her face that tells me everything will be fine. “Told you I can handle people. Even drunk Papaw.”
“Speaking of drunk Papaw. We better get back out there. Who knows what he’s saying to my son and your brother right now.”
We took Friday off, spending the day together, Mary London, Rylan, and myself.
We found a walking trail not far from Heaven that meandered through the woods and ended at a creek.
Rylan talked our ears off, which was great.
Mary London’s presence always seems to uncork his thoughts and feelings.
He’s doing well in school, making friends, and talking to Sadie.
Apparently, there’s a difference between talking and actually dating.
It sounds like the same damn thing to me, but what the hell do I know about teenagers?
Afterward, we test-drove a few cars on the used car lots around town and ended the day with takeout.
The three of us being together felt so natural, it shocked me.
Rylan left early to go see Sadie, so Mary London and I had the house to ourselves.
We made good use of the alone time, but I made sure she got home at a decent hour.
Tomorrow is a big day for the bar and we both need rest.
I have a hot mocha waiting for Mary London when she shows up at the bar this morning.
The barista had accidentally made two drinks a few weeks back, and after drinking the extra, I’ve developed a craving for mochas.
Damn things are pricey as hell, but seeing Mary London’s face light up when I get us both one is damn near priceless.
“Good morning!” she trills, looking fresh as a daisy in a yellow blouse with puffy long sleeves, ties on the side, and lace along the neckline and hem.
She’s wearing jeans, but they’re the fancy kind, not made for working.
Even with jeans, she’s got on heels. Honestly, at this point, I’m not sure she can walk flat-footed anymore.
She hangs her handbag on a hook just inside the kitchen and crooks her finger at me.
I don’t waste time arguing when I could be kissin’ my girl.
I pull her inside the kitchen and lay one on her, messing up her lip gloss and being damn smug about it too.
We get interrupted by a knock and a holler from the front of the bar. Mary London’s eyes light up.
“It’s here,” I murmur, grabbing her hand and walking out to intercept the delivery driver.
An entire crew of five guys end up carrying in the custom bar top.
It’s wrapped and padded to keep the surface safe from scratches during transport, but it looks heavy as hell.
Mary London is buzzing around, talking everyone’s ear off in her excitement.
They all work hard to get it installed, and given Mary London’s charm, none of them are annoyed by her presence.
When they get it in place and take off the last of the wrapping, Mary London gasps.
It’s a work of art, for sure. It’s all one piece with a fine wood grain that shows off knots and swirls, and the edge is the outer rough bark of the tree it came from.
You can see a blackened streak right through the middle that only nature can create.
A thick layer of some sort of resin coats the whole thing so it won’t get damaged as a useful bar top, but it’s stunning.
It’s midmorning by the time the crew leaves, and Mary London spends another half hour inspecting each inch of the install, taking pictures and murmuring how much she loves it over and over. Then she shoves her phone in her back pocket and declares she has to get to the boutique to relieve Maggie.
I snatch her hand before she goes, pulling her into me so I can get one last kiss. “Dinner with me tonight?”
“Sure. Your place or mine?”
I wrap my arms around her, feeling braver with each day that passes now that our secret is out. She hasn’t had anyone throw food at her. No one’s accosted me or tried to take a swing at me for daring to date the Mary London Winthrop. Maybe things will be okay.
“Let’s go to the Velvet Throne.”
Mary London’s eyes go wide, right before her smile lights up the space. She knows what I’m asking. The Velvet Throne is as public as it gets. I’m asking her on a real date. “I’d love nothing else.”
And then with one last kiss she’s gone, busier than anyone I know.
I spend the rest of the day getting more of the fine details done on the bar top, like installing the sinks below it and screwing in purse hooks for the ladies.
I make sure I have enough time to swing by the house and take a shower.
Rylan’s with friends, checking in several times today, which makes me a happy father.
I feel like we’re finally on track here in Heaven, both of us adjusted and happy.
I swing by Golden Halo to pick up Mary London, who’s just closing up the place.
She winces once as we walk to the Velvet Throne, though she’s quick to hide it.
I have a feeling I’ll be rubbing those sore feet later tonight.
I called and made a reservation earlier, only snagging a table because someone else canceled last minute, which is good because the place is packed.
We get seated almost immediately, but the table is in the middle of the restaurant.
Not very private, but then again, the whole point is to be seen and be okay with it.
“I’m waiting for Birdie to visit me to get the scoop on us dating,” Mary London admits as she peruses the menu. “I’m surprised she didn’t stop by today, to be honest.”
“Maybe our family didn’t tell anyone,” I throw out there.
Mary London snorts. “You sure you’re from here, ’Lanta?”
We place our order for dinner and drinks, then spend time discussing the bar progress.
Feels like we could talk for hours and still have more to talk about.
For all the projection of just being a pretty face, Mary London is so much more.
She’s witty, she’s intelligent, she’s kind.
She’s also a firecracker when lighting a fire is called for.
She’s good with Rylan and placates Papaw.
As she talks with her hands and her expression can barely contain her excitement about life, I stare at her across the table and realize I’m falling hard for this woman.
“Hey, Mary London,” a man interrupts, nearly stumbling his thick self into our table. I half stand out of my chair but the man manages to stay on his feet. A glass tumbler is in his hand, but it’s empty. His buddy is right behind him. “Heard you’re opening a new bar in town.”
Mary London gives him a practiced smile that I can tell doesn’t meet her eyes. “That’s right. Bless Your Heart will be over off Eternity Street. Opening a little after the first of the year.”
The man licks his lips in a way that makes me wonder how quickly I can get him away from our table. A little trickle of sweat drips down the side of his temple. The guy’s a mess.
“I’ll be damned. A woman bar owner. How ’bout that, Billy? Heaven really is the land of plenty.” He laughs at his own joke, then elbows his friend. “All ya gotta do is date your contractor.”
“Where can I find a girl business owner, huh?” Billy jokes right back.
But neither Mary London nor I are laughing. They turn back to us, see our straight faces and mumble their congratulations before moving on to annoy someone else just trying to have a nice dinner.
I throw my napkin down on the table and go to stand. Mary London grabs my hand, hissing at me to sit back down. I hook my thumb over my shoulder.
“What the fuck was that?” I thunder, low enough no one else hears, but angry enough Mary London can see I’m not playing. I have half a mind to follow them outside and see if the big one has a good punch or if all that brawn is for show.
Mary London waves her hand through the air. "That’s just Tank and Billy. They’ve always been like that. Tank’s like a dog that don’t hunt. Harmless.”
I think I actually remember Billy from elementary school, but Tank’s not familiar. Mary London’s not wrong, Billy’s always been an asshole, but that doesn’t make what they said right.
I’ve lost my appetite. “This is exactly what I feared about us being out in the open before the bar opens.”
Mary London leans across the table. “I know it’s irritating, but I’ve come to learn that some men are just beyond hope. We don’t hide in fear of small minds, Rhett. They’re kind of everywhere.”
It takes all of dinner for me to calm down enough to return to easy conversation.
Mary London might not be bothered by those two guys’ comments but I am.
She shouldn’t have to take such a pessimistic view of men, though I can understand why she has.
I take her back home, but the second she’s through the door, I get out my phone.
Those two assholes made me mad enough to do something I don’t generally like to do.
I’m reaching out for help.
Silas answers on the second ring. “Hello!”
God, he’s as cheerful as his sister. Compared to him, I sound like the fuckin’ Grinch. “Hey, Silas. This is Rhett.”
“Hey, buddy, how are ya?”
“Not great actually. I was hoping to talk to you about your sister.”
“Oh, lordie, what’s she done now?” is his instant reply.
“She hasn’t done anything. That’s the whole point. It’s these assholes that think they can look down on her because she’s a woman.”
There’s silence for a moment, then Silas’s voice comes back through sounding different. “I put you on speaker. Deuce is here. What happened?”
I rub the back of my neck, not sure what I want, but I know I can’t just look the other way.
“Two guys came up to us at dinner, spouting off about a woman bar owner. Implying she’s sleeping her way into a bar remodel.
It’s just…it’s sickening to me that men are still so fearful of a woman who has her shit together.
” I sigh. “They’re probably jealous of her success, when really, their life’s in the shitter because they don’t have half the smarts or the drive that she does. ”
“Tell us how you really feel, Rhett,” Deuce drawls. “I think that’s more words than I’ve heard you speak since you moved here.”
Then he gets deadly serious. “Tell me who it was and I’ll have them taken care of.”
“Jesus, Deuce. You can’t have them roughed up. Take your small-town mafia crap somewhere else.” Silas huffs. “Listen, Rhett. We agree with you, but what can we do?”
“I’m not sure. I just think we have to be even more intentional in how we behave. If assholes can band together, so can the good guys. Maybe we can show them how to treat women properly.”
“Fuck yeah!” Deuce hollers. “We can be like a good-guy gang!”
“Jesus,” Silas mutters.
My head drops back to the headrest in my truck. I regret calling.
“They can call us the Guardians! Oh! No! How about the Divine Defenders!” Deuce is on a roll and there’s no stopping him. “How about the Divine Order?”
“Actually, I kind of like Heaven’s Hammer,” Silas adds, also getting into it.
All three of us crack up at that one.
“Wait. If we’re the good-guy gang, can we still flirt with the ladies?” Deuce interjects right before I hang up on the idiots. “Because if we can’t, I’m out.”
I’m not sure having friends is all it’s cracked up to be, but I do feel better about things as I head for home.