22. Rhys
CHAPTER 22
RHYS
I wake up a married man. Sleeping alone in an unfinished basement with a hand wrapped around my dick and the memory of slipping my fingers down my wife’s dress playing on an infinite loop in my mind.
I come upstairs feeling on edge about what the day will hold—feeling vulnerable after Tabitha went digging through my life with such ease last night.
But when I step into the kitchen, nothing is different.
Even though fall has started to make its way into the valley and there’s a nip in the air, Tabitha sits outside with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, sipping a cup of coffee. Normally, I’d retreat to the living room with my coffee and scroll my phone, check my emails, or do anything I could to avoid her, but today feels different. Strangely, I don’t feel like I need to hide from her this morning.
Whether it’s the comforting warmth of the gold wrapped around my ring finger or morbid curiosity about what’s going through Tabitha’s head after last night, I decide to pour myself a mug of steaming caffeine and join her.
But not before I’m almost tripped by the goddamn cat.
Prow, prow, prow .
She makes that little noise with each step as she comes prancing toward me and practically launches herself at my legs like she’s excited to see me. She doesn’t even care that the feeling isn’t mutual.
“Hi, cat,” I grumble, before stepping around her and reaching for the back door. She follows me outside, and I don’t stop her.
Tabitha turns. “Rhys! Don’t let Cleo out!”
“Why?”
“She could run away.”
“That’s the dream,” I mumble.
My brow furrows as I stomp over to the love seat opposite her. Milo’s monitor sits on the table between us, and I can hear the soft sound of his exhales. It makes me want to sneak upstairs and check on him. I’ve tried to respect Tabitha’s space—her boundaries—but I miss the freedom to read him bedtime stories or check on him in the middle of the night just to make sure he was okay.
Alas, what I get is a cat that has no intention of running away. Because the minute I sit down, fucking Cleocatra, the perpetually happy feline, lands in my lap. She makes one agile turn before settling, her front paws pressing gently against my sweats, one after the other.
When I look up, Tabitha is staring at me with a smug expression on her face.
“Is that going to be okay for your allergies ?” The way she says allergies is pure mockery. Okay, I lied about the allergy. Pets just make me nervous. Getting attached makes me nervous.
“Whatever.”
“Come ooon. Is she purring? What kind of monster would you have to be to not like that at least a little bit?”
I sip my coffee and look away, doing my best to appear unaffected. Because it is nice. “It’s fine.”
“Wild Side’s thoughts on pussy— it’s fine .”
My lips twitch. Tabitha is in fine form this morning. I slice her a withering glare, and she laughs.
“I prefer you when you’re being hostile,” is my only reply.
“I’m too tired to be hostile today. You get giddy instead.”
As she nestles into the cushions of the wicker patio set, I realize she does look more tired than usual.
“Too much wine?”
A snort leaves her as she holds the steaming cup of coffee up to her lips. “I only had a few glasses. I’m fine.”
“Yeah, fair. You weren’t drunk enough to get handsy or anything like that.”
She glowers at me. Between the wedding, the sexual tension, and the secrets she uncovered last night, there’s a new level of closeness between us. And despite myself, I like it.
“Well, in that case, what’s your excuse?”
God, I should not have been so… bold? Comfortable? There was just something that made me want her more than I usually do. The dress. The restaurant. The way she pressed closer.
Her .
Everything comes back to her. My head keeps circling back to her. My body keeps moving toward her. And it’s instinctual. If I could stop it, I would. I’ve tried .
But nothing works. Even after only meeting her once, she’d pop into my head unannounced. The tiny terror with dark hair and the round ass who marched into my house and told me what to do like I was a grunt in her kitchen.
Now it’s worse, because she’s here. With me. And she’s got me twisted into knots—ones I don’t feel especially inclined to untangle.
I shrug. “No excuses.”
Her eyes widen, almost comically, but I figure, what’s the point in beating around the bush? I meant what I said last night, and given the opportunity, I’d put my hands down Tabitha Garrison’s dress over and over again.
The problem is, deep down, I suspect she still hates me. At least a little. She believes I’ve done something unforgivable, and I’ve made no move to correct her. When I decided to give her someone to blame for her sister’s death, I didn’t expect to end up here.
Married to her and feeling like this.
She clears her throat, signaling a change in the conversation, as Cleocatra curls herself up in my lap, like a fuzzy cinnamon bun. “Well, the reason I’m tired is I stayed up all night watching wrestling.”
My head snaps up. “Come again?”
She shrugs and tucks her feet under herself. “What? It’s entertaining.”
I stare blankly at her, figuring out how I feel about this and how I should respond.
Another shrug. “And I was curious.”
I search for tones of mockery in her voice, but they don’t come. She’s not laughing at me. But she stayed up all night watching WPW. I just…
Now her head joggles. “And it’s kind of addictive.”
Tabitha enjoying wrestling was not on my bingo card.
“You know who fuckin’ sucks?” Before I can guess, she continues. “Million Dollar Bill. I can’t believe that guy has your belt. What an absolute tool.”
I blink, dumbfounded. “Tabitha.”
She tips her nose up with a light sniffle, as though too proud to look embarrassed by having taken a deep dive into my job. “What? It’s true. Brass knuckles? If that clown sends you back bruised again, I’ll beat his ass myself.”
I bark out an unexpected laugh. I’m not surprised by much anymore, but I am surprised by this.
Her head tilts. “I’ve never heard you laugh.”
I absently pet the cat, just for something to do with my hands. “It’s been a heavy couple of months.”
Tabitha nods, but there’s a soft smile on her face, a flush on her cheeks. “Well, I’m not joking. Watching you lose was infuriating. I’d like to speak to the writers about where the hell they’re taking your storyline. I have notes.”
I laugh again and, fuck it feels good. Not just to laugh, but to share. It’s a strange sensation, having someone on your team. It’s causes an unfamiliar tingling in my chest. “Great, I’ll let them know my wife would like to speak to them. They’ll love that.”
Her lips roll as she struggles to bite down on a laugh. “Good.” Then she waves a pointed finger over me. “And don’t start smiling like that too much.”
I didn’t even realize I was smiling. “Why not?”
“Because there are fans flapping posters around in the audience asking you to father their children. Women around the world will combust if you hit them with that.”
“Wow, one day of marriage and the rules are already coming out in full force. Sorry, I can only smile at my wife, ” I joke.
“Okay, well, you can obviously smile at whoever you want. Just not here,” she qualifies, voice squeaking ever so slightly. “Like not where people we know would think that…”
“Think what?”
Tabitha sighs, tugging the blanket more tightly around her shoulders. “I’m not stupid.” Her voice comes out more hushed now. “I don’t expect you to act like we’re married when you’re away. But if we can keep up appearances in and around town, I’d appreciate it.”
Realization dawns on me. “I’m not gonna do that to you.”
I get a scoff and an eye roll. “Please, I’m sure I haven’t inspired a lot of warm and fuzzy feelings. I know I’ve been harsh and demanding, but I promise I’m doing my best to move on. I don’t want things to be like that between us. I just… I don’t know how to act around you. And I’m fucking terrible about holding grudges.”
It’s one of the most vulnerable moments we’ve ever shared. One of the most honest things she’s ever told me. The truth is, I don’t know how to act around her, either. She makes me nervous in unfamiliar ways. Still, I feel the need to reassure her. To lay it all out in black and white. To wipe the strained expression off her face. I lean forward, propping my elbows on my knees, ducking my chin just low enough to be at eye level with her.
“Tabby, I’m not the kind of guy who fucks around. So you can make up all the rules you want, but I’ll be following my own. And that rule is that there won’t be anyone else while I’m wearing this ring.”
She sucks in a breath and swallows.
I don’t know what she’s about to say, and I’ll never find out because Milo’s voice interrupts through the monitor with a dopey, “Hello?” and she fucking dashes for the door.