Chapter 38
Chapter thirty-eight
Audrey
We both shower, the dishes are cleaned up, and the lights are out except for a few lamps in the living room.
I lounge on the opposite end of the sofa from Rhett, while Mabel’s familiar snores rumble from the floor in front of me.
The baseball game plays on the TV, but I drown out the noise and Rhett’s eyes aren’t focused on it.
I find myself lost in my Instagram feed, scrolling through photos of my friends and their so-called perfect summer lives.
I’m not even sure why I still follow most of them—prep school friends and those who remain stuck in the miserable orbit of Jackson Tippins.
It’s been ages since I posted anything anyway, not since the breakup with Jackson.
There’s nothing I'm willing to share with the outside world.
What I have here with Rhett; it’s just for us. I glance up at him, sitting stiffly on the couch, my feet near him, but he isn’t rubbing them. He is in another world.
“It was really nice to see everyone tonight and be able to host.” I add as much pep to my voice as I can manage, tossing my phone aside, as Rhett nods with a tight jaw. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, then he quickly clenches his jaw again.
“Does your family do anything over Labor Day weekend?” I press on. Because I know he heard parts of the conversation with my mother. And I don’t know how to address this.
Rhett tips his head back, his blue eyes trained on the living room ceiling, the glow of the TV bouncing off the walls around us. “Audrey.” My name comes out like a sigh, and a sense of defensiveness washes over me.
“I mean it’s only a few weeks away, it’s not preposterous to ask, is it?” I respond with more venom in my tone than intended. His eyes darted my way.
“I don’t know if they have plans, but I know yours do.” He’s monotone in his retort and my heart surges but I try not to show it.
“Well, I'm not going to that. You heard the phone call.”
“Yeah, most of it. What I didn’t hear was a good reason though,” he shot back, and I felt myself flush. I sit upright, my body buzzing with messy energy.
“You have to understand, my family isn’t like yours, Rhett.
It’s not a quaint family dinner party at my parent's vacation home. It’s a chance for them to show off their money, for my father’s business partners to all kiss each other’s asses, for my brother and his friends to act like I don’t exist, even in their thirties and—”
“That’s a lot of reasons.”
“Exactly,” I say, turning my attention to the TV, hoping he drops it, hoping he finally understands why I don’t want to go back.
“But you used to go with Jackson, correct?”
Hearing my ex’s name on Rhett’s tongue makes the room spin for a moment.
I hate that they ever had to overlap in my life.
And there’s something else. Hurt. I hear hurt.
The one thing I never wanted to inflict on this man who’s shown me nothing but love, done nothing but welcomed me into his world, giving me everything, even when he didn’t have much to give.
I scoot closer to Rhett, needing to be close, needing to fix this, but his eyes are still icy. I think about touching his arm, but I don’t.
“It’s different. Him and my father were like this.” I hold up my crossed fingers. “And my parents were more tolerable when we were together. It doesn’t mean I enjoyed it.”
“It’s different…got it.” He doesn’t sound angry, just defeated, which is worse, but I still haven’t gotten through to him.
“Just answer me this, and I’ll drop it.” He leans forward on his elbows, and I swallow the lump in my throat.
“Are you ashamed of me? Am I not good enough to meet your family, or was introducing me to them never in your plans?”
My heart hammers wildly in my chest as I spring off the sofa, pacing the room. “Rhett, stop. You’re being unfair. Of course I was going to introduce you to them.”
Is that true? When did I plan to do that?
Rhett stands, too, a humorless chuckle filling the air and disappointment painted on the face I’ve fallen in love with.
“I’m beginning to doubt that.”
“It’s only been a few months,” I blurt out, and immediately inhale. Because that’s not fair and I know it. He introduced me to his family almost immediately.
That stops him in his tracks as he glances at me.
“I see.” His voice is somber, matching his walk as he walks out of the living room, leaving me scrambling to regain control of the situation.
But it’s pointless; I’m trapped in my own paralyzing silence.
I always knew this day would come, where Rhett would ask about meeting my family. But I had hoped by then, things with my family would be smoothed out, and everything would finally make sense to me.
How horribly, horribly naive of me.
Sleep never comes, no matter how long I spend with my eyes shut in this bedroom.
Rhett fell asleep almost instantly, or maybe he is faking it.
I think about waking him to talk, my hand hovering over his shoulder, but pull it away for one reason or another, and silently slip out of bed, feeling my way in the dark to the door.
I step over Mabel who lifts her tired eyes, but decides she can’t miss out, and silently follows me out of the bedroom.
I don’t bother flipping on the light in the kitchen. The moonlight is enough to illuminate the space so I can find my shoes. I snatch my sweater off the bench by the back door and wrap it around me, because even though it’s still warm outside, I’ve had an icy shiver since our talk.
“You coming?” My whisper reaches Mabel in the dim kitchen, and she slips around my legs, trotting quietly into the backyard.
At the edge of the grass, I stand, arms tightly across my chest, the dog sniffing the ground not far from me. The worn tree swing becomes my stopping point, and I sit, lazily rocking back and forth, dragging my toes in the sandy soil under me.
The humid air fills my lungs as I tilt my head back, peering up at the stars. I haven’t seen the stars this bright since the night on the rooftop. The night that was both a definite end and a definite beginning.
I have no plan. No plan as to what I'm doing out here at midnight. No plan for this future I've been carelessly carving.
A lump forms in my throat, one I can’t get rid of by swallowing, so I let the tears fall softly. Tears I’ve been holding in for weeks, if I'm being honest with myself. Mabel pads over, tired and confused, her nose pushing into my thigh until I pet her.
“You’re a good girl, you know that?” I ask her and her tail thumps a few times against the hard ground.
Mabel decided she loved me the first time she met me, and that was that. She didn’t falter or stop. She probably always assumed I’d be coming back, never doubting one day I might not come back.
What the hell kind of person does that make me?
She lets out a groan when I stop petting her ears to wipe my misty eyes. “Okay, okay, I'm sorry.”
Is this truly impossible or am I just being stubborn?
As I ground myself in the moonlight of the backyard, I try to imagine Rhett meeting my family.
If not at my parent’s Labor Day soiree, perhaps we could go home for Thanksgiving.
Though they usually spend it at their mountain home, so it would be a big production of travel.
Perhaps Christmas. But I’m sure Rhett wants to spend Christmas here with his nieces and mom, and I would want to help make Christmas dinner…
My breath quickens at the vulnerability of that truth, the truth that slides so simply into my mind. I want to be here for Christmas. With him. With them.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“I can’t go to New York,” I whisper to myself, and the words feel so heavy in the air around me. But I repeat it as Mabel slowly slides down to lay at my feet.
“I don’t want to go. I don’t want to work in a high-rise and live in an apartment again and start over. I want to stay here.”
There, it’s out there.
Those words lift away the dark cloud that’s been just a few feet behind me all summer.
With blurry eyes and a heart pounding so hard, it echoes in my ears.
I push off the old tree swing. The ground feels uneven beneath me as I make my way back toward the house, my steps hesitant but determined.
Through the window, I catch the soft glow of the little lamp by the kitchen sink, its light spilling out like a quiet invitation.
I pause for a moment, taking it in—the warmth of the light, the stillness of the house—and tilt my head down, drawing a shaky breath.
The back door creaks as I push it open, my pulse racing as I step inside.
I’m ready for this. Ready to let the words out before my mind has a chance to twist them into doubt, before fear takes over, and convinces me yet again that saying it is a mistake.
I’m not doing this for them. I’m doing it for him.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I murmur in the dim light, my eyes meeting Rhett’s over the kitchen island. I circle it, coming closer to him. His shirt is too worn and thin. You can see his tattoos through it, but I know how soft it is. I know why he wears it, why he won’t throw it out.
I know he can’t sleep if he rolls over and finds me not there.
I know he likes his coffee bitter and black, and that when he’s restless after dinner he goes to his workshop, working in silence. I know he doesn’t talk about his feelings with anyone, except maybe me.
“I want you to come home with me in a few weeks. I want you to meet my family.”
It takes a moment, but he shifts against the counter he leans on, taking a step closer to me.
“What? Why?” He narrows his tired eyes at me.
“Because I’m not ashamed of you. I love you. I thought I could protect what we have by keeping it a secret, but if it means losing you…” I can’t even finish the sentence.
His lips pull up, a crooked smirk on his tired face. I place my hand on his jaw, his stubble rubs against my palm, and I pull him closer until it’s only inches between us.
“I can’t promise you it will be perfect, but I’m not going to hide us anymore.”
I place my head on his strong chest as he wraps his arms around me.
“So…will you be my date to the most over the top Labor Day party you’ve ever seen?” I ask as he nuzzles his face into my messy bed head and kisses my temple, his hands winding slowly around me.
“You can count on it, baby.”
Relief floods me. There’s no hint of anger or hurt in his voice anymore. I could never count on anyone before, not really, besides Penny. But nothing Rhett has done, or failed to do has led me to believe he doesn’t mean it with his whole heart. I can count on him.
I kiss him, finding myself desperate for his touch after this sleepless night. Rhett pulls away, but I grab his head, lacing my fingers in his hair and bring him back to me. He doesn’t resist, parting my lips with his tongue.
Melting under his touch, my fears get pushed down, just for a moment. Slipping my hands under his shirt, needing to feel his skin, he responds, dipping his hand into the band of my shorts.
“Rhett…” I moaned, having so much more to tell him, so many things I needed to warn him about, but I couldn’t think, not while he was stroking me in my most sensitive spot. Not while his lips and tongue kissed, nipped, and swirled around my neck.
Rhett drove his knee between my legs, and when he removed his hand, I instantly felt empty, desperate for him to touch me. The dim light of the kitchen is comforting, the man before me is my safety, and the words are out there.
I don’t want to go to New York.
He drops to his knees, his head between my legs as my head lolls back, hands gripping the counter behind me.
He drives me to the point of panting, biting my lip, moaning his name until I shudder on his tongue. Without talking, Rhett carries me to the bedroom, to finish what he started, and when we are both exhausted, satisfied, naked against each other, he falls into a deep, peaceful slumber.
But the relief that flooded me just an hour ago has quickly faded and I find sleep impossible again, no matter how much I beg and trick my body into it. No matter how many times I run through every scenario, telling myself it will all be fine.
I never had to protect anyone but myself against my family, and even then, my only solution was satisfying them in a way that only hurt myself.
But I'm not that person anymore, and I don’t know what layer of protection I have other than a man who doesn’t understand the true weight of the society I was raised in.
I can’t shake the feeling that I am leading him into a den of snakes.