Chapter 29
Rhett
Made out with Devon at a jobsite
-From Rhett’s Most Important Things notebook,
September 6th
“We’ve had to golf with overly friendly tourists for almost three weeks now,” Hector complains. “You’re not allowed to take time off and ruin our foursome anymore.”
“I don’t regret a second of what happened while I was gone.” I pull my driver from its bag and walk up to the tee. “Can’t even apologize to you.”
Hector gasps. “Well, aren’t you just awful.”
Brian waits for me to take my shot then tilts his head knowingly toward Hector. “I believe he was spending time with Devon.”
“You should have said that in the first place,” Hector waves a hand before lining up his shot. “All’s forgiven.”
Bradley’s up next, so he passes Emery to me, who gifts me with a gummy smile and a giggle. She’s growing so fast. I swear she’s a little heavier than last time I held her. “Hi there, little one,” I say, giving one of her tiny hands a shake.
“How is Devon by the way,” Brian asks, coming to stand next to me and the baby. “We saw that horrible blog post the other day, and I can’t stop thinking about her. I wish we knew some way to help.”
“That Nathalie has always been trouble,” Hector says. “But I can’t believe she would try to ruin Devon’s reputation like that. What possible reason could she have?”
How much would Devon be comfortable with me sharing?If Hector and Brian could do anything, wouldn’t she want them to know? “We haven’t figured out the reason yet,” I start.
“We haven’t?” Hector asks, as we start walking down the fairway.
“Yeah, her friends are all doing everything they can to help clean up the mess,” I answer, switching Emery to my other side.
Hector gives me a glib look. “You know that’s not what I meant, but we can come back to it.”
We discuss ways they can be supportive, and I’m careful not to mention her financial position or the fact that she’s down to one client, which I’m still struggling to grasp. Her work is meticulous and beautiful. I’m honestly stunned anyone has taken the word of a blog that’s clearly written as a smear over the history of her work. But evidently a lot of them have.
“Do you think she has time to take on much new work with everything that’s going on?” Brian asks, looking up from his scorecard.
“Yeah, I believe she could.” I try to play it cool. “Do you know of anyone who’s looking for a designer?”
“Maybe,” Brian answers. “I’ll ask around.”
§
My gate squeaks in the distance right as I’ve pulled my sweatpants on to get into bed. I’m not expecting anyone, and Bradley and Sadie are the only two people with keys. Unless Sadie gave her key to Devon.
Coming back to my trailer alone after having her here for two weeks has left a pit in my stomach. I got too comfortable sharing it with her, and now it’s not just her chair or her daybed. Every single square foot of this property is branded with a memory of her.
Making coffee in the morning in the kitchen. Writing snarky notes on the whiteboard when she doesn’t think I’m watching. Wrapping her legs around me at night and pretending not to be asleep. This trailer gave me the freedom I needed to start over. It became my home the first night I hit the road. But now, without her here, it feels incomplete.
Devon needs space. I’ve always known that if I held on too tightly, I’d lose any chance with her. So, I haven’t pushed since all this happened. I’m there as soon as she needs me, but I’m not asking anything of her.
The gate creaks again when she locks it back up. It has to be her. I go outside and plug in the bistro lights, tucking my hands in my pockets and leaning against the high back of an Adirondack chair.
She flips her headlights off when she sees me, and I walk over to greet her. Maybe this time we can fool around in her car. There’s no one else around. But when I open her door, the idea evaporates. Her face is drawn, eyes tired and shoulders slumped.
“Hey, mama,” I say, cautiously. “I’m happy you’re here.”
“Me too,” she whispers, staring through glassy eyes at her steering wheel.
“Let’s get you inside.” I reach across to unclick her seatbelt and take her hand, drawing her out of her car and shutting the door behind her. “I’ll come back for your stuff.”
“I didn’t even think to pack—” her voice cracks, and she sniffles. “I just, everything is—” She looks up at me, watery eyes starting to spill over.
Wrapping my arms around her, I pull her close into my bare chest, and her shoulders immediately shake with sobs.
“I’m sorry I’m crying,” she whispers between gasped breaths.
I press my lips to the top of her head. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
With her arms folded between our chests, she pushes all of her weight into my hold, and I squeeze her tighter. My Devon. It’s not right.This shouldn’t be happening to her.
“I’m not supposed to, this isn’t—” she sucks in a heavy breath. “I don’t cry,” she insists as a fresh wave of tears hits her.
“Of course you don’t,” I agree, and a tiny laugh slips out of her between sobs.
She doesn’t let up, so neither do I, holding her tight and rubbing soothing hands up and down her back. Warmth breath and hot tears cover my chest, and the smell of her floral shampoo and peppermint soap fill my nose. We stay like that for long, long minutes, her letting go of the tears she’s been holding back, and me doing my best to be her anchor in this storm.
Finally, she sniffles, looking up at me, hands still folded together between us. “Aren’t you cold?” she asks.
“Not a bit.”
“I just snotted all over you.” She tries to wipe the tears from my body with her trapped hands.
“I don’t care about that,” I tell her, pulling back just enough to tuck one arm behind her knees and another behind her shoulders.
“You don’t have to carry me,” she sniffles, burrowing her head into my neck and leaning into me again. She closes her eyes. “Seriously.”
When we’re inside I set her down on the bed and bring her a box of tissues before turning on the kettle. She sits, legs crossed in front of her, silently watching me until I return with a pile of clothes for her to sleep in.
“Arms up,” I tell her, and she lifts them for me, allowing me to pull off her silky white shirt and skin-toned bra, replacing them with my second softest t-shirt, since the softest is back at her house already. Guiding her one arm at a time, I put her into the flannel shirt she wore last week, and there’s a little glimmer of light in her eyes when she recognizes it. A slow smile creeps over her lips as I finish changing her completely into pajamas, with a pair of my boxers that hang loosely around her thighs.
The kettle whistles and I bring a cup of tea over to the bed where I sit down next to her.
She leans her face into the steam that rolls off her mug. “I love peppermint.”
“Thought so,” I answer, resting my hand on her folded leg.
“Hope it’s okay that I borrowed your key from Sadie,” she points to her keys where she’s hung them on a hook by the door. “I’ll give it back before I leave.”
“You didn’t borrow my key from Sadie.” I shake my head. “You got your key back from her.”
Her lips curve in the slightest smile as she leans in to rest her head on my shoulder. “Okay.” Then she lifts her head and shrugs. “I suppose I should explain myself.”
“If you want to tell me what’s wrong, I’ll listen, but you don’t need to explain crying. Sometimes you have to let it out.” My words have her tearing up again, so I stop talking.
“I’m down to one client, Rhett. I guess two if you count Calle Vista, but who knows when that’ll start up again.” She holds the mug close to her chest, like she had with her hands a moment ago by the car. “My business savings is shot. My personal savings is on its way. People keep cancelling projects on me, and—” her voice cracks again, “and I cannot seem to get new ones.” Tears spill down her cheeks. “Everyone is helping me, and I still can’t make it work.” Her breaths get short, shoulders shaking.
She sips carefully at her hot tea, regaining a little composure. “Maybe, I should have told my friends sooner. Maybe I should have asked my mom for help. Maybe I should have never left Trina’s, so she couldn’t do this to me. Maybe…maybe,” she sniffles, “I’m not cut out to run my own business, and I should just give up and get a job somewhere else.”
If there’s one thing I learned growing up with two sisters, it’s when to give advice and when to listen. I want to tell her that she’s amazing, she’s handling this better than expected, she’s excellent at running a business, and she will get past this. That leaving Trina’s may have been the best thing she ever did. But I bite my tongue and rub my hand slowly along her thigh, leaning over to kiss her temple.
She takes another sip of tea before continuing. “I’ve done everything I know how to do. I followed my business plan. I saved up. I was cautious. I just didn’t know I was going to end up with a rival. But I can’t wholly blame it on her. If I was doing this right.” she swallows thickly. “It wouldn’t matter at all what anyone else did. I own this. This is on no one else but me.”
She unfolds her legs, extending them across my lap as she leans back against the cushioned headboard. I pick up one of her feet and run my thumb up the center of the soul before I start kneading at the pad. “Ooh,” she breathes. “That’s nice. Yes please.”
Focusing on the places she responds to the most, I continue massaging her foot. When her breathing steadies and her tears have dried, I say, “It’s not over yet.” She gives me a little encouraging smile, so I continue. “We both know you’re not giving up and you’re not backing down. You are amazing, and I, for one, am really looking forward to seeing you come out on top of all this. Because I know you will. There’s a reason all your friends are so dedicated to helping you.” Her eyes round curiously. “Because you are a dedicated friend, and you’re worth it.”
Carefully setting down one foot, I pick up the other and start to work the tissue there.
“I still don’t know if I can do it.” She looks down into her tea. “I might actually lose Friday West.”
“Okay, maybe,” I say, and her eyes narrow in offense. “I don’t believe that’s what will happen. At all. But do you know that you’ll be okay if it does?” I lean in closer. “You’ll figure out a way to move forward. You’re strong and you’re so fucking smart. You won’t be down for long. And no one who cares about you would care about you any less if you had to start over. Do you get that?”
She worries her lip between her teeth, considering for a long while. “I’m not sure that’s true.”
“Who are you worried about?” I ask, jaw clenching. “I’d like to have some words with them.”
She laughs, and the sound is a relief. “I can think of better ways to introduce you to my mother.”
“If she’d stop loving you because you no longer had your own company, I’m not sure I want to meet her.”
Her brows furrow. “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds ridiculous.”
“It does,” I agree. “Have you talked to her since everything happened?”
Devon looks away at the ground. “No, but she keeps trying to reach me.”
“I’d never tell you what to do,” I start, then we both realize how far from the truth it is. She arches a brow at me. “I would. But not about something like this. Maybe you should give her a chance to love you through this like you’re letting all of your friends.”
She huffs. “I’ll consider it.”
We sit in silence for a while longer, me massaging her foot, and her drinking her tea. Eventually she gets up to wash her face and brush her teeth. She teases me for having an extra toothbrush when I don’t have anywhere to put guests, and I don’t tell her that I bought it for her, in case something like this ever happened.
When Devon’s tucked safely into my bed with her head on my chest, she squeezes my hand where it’s wrapped around her waist and says, “I heard something pretty interesting the other day.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask.
“Yeah, rumor is you walked into Trina Boatswain’s office and quit every single one of her projects,” she says, each word wrapped around a smile. “Evidently, you really gave her a piece of your mind.”
I chuckle into her hair. “That rumor is mostly true. I did drop out of three of her projects. I told her very calmly that I won’t be working with her ever again, but I wouldn’t say that’s a piece of my mind.”
She runs her nails lightly across my stomach. “You know you didn’t have to do that.”
“I did have to. Integrity matters, and I won’t be associated with anyone who chooses not to have any. I’m not working with Alex again either.”
“Really?” Her hair brushes across my chest when she tilts her head to the side. “I didn’t hear that. What did Alex do?”
“I don’t trust him, Dev,” I say. “He’s never spoken well about you, which I’ve put him in his place about on numerous occasions. When all this happened, he was too close to it for it to be a coincidence.”
“I kind of thought that too,” she says, lying back down on my chest. “I wonder what I ever did that would make him want to hurt me like that.”
“Nothing.” My voice comes out harsher than intended. “You did nothing to deserve that.”
“You’re right,” she says, some of the usual power I’m used to hearing from her returning to her voice. “As Allie likes to say, fuck that guy.”
“Why are you so adorable when you swear?” I laugh, tucking a finger under her chin to draw her up for a soft kiss.
“Can’t help it,” she shrugs, giggling.
“Speaking of Allie, did you tell her I quit working with Trina? She was probably thrilled.”
Just enough moonlight trickles into the room to let me see Devon as she tilts her head to bring us eye to eye. “She did seem unusually happy about that. Why?”
My fingers trail across her back. “She’s been telling me for months that if I want to be with you, I need take away the thing that’s keeping us apart.”
“Wait, what?” she asks. Devon’s confused enough that Allie must not have told her anything about those conversations.
“You said you wouldn’t date me because we work in the same industry.” Devon cringes at the reminder. “Allie pointed out that you’d given me a good reason, and if I wanted you, I needed to make that reason go away.”
“That meddling little brunette,” Devon mutters, tucking my hair behind my ear. I lean into her soft touch. “Rhett, you don’t actually have to give up your career for me. That’s absurd.”
“It’s a little absurd.” I answer, phrasing my next statement as carefully as possible. “But I’m open to it.”
“Well, you don’t have to be,” she says, pressing her lips to mine and then lying back down on my chest. Her breathing slows, and right before she dozes off, she sleepily says, “Thank you for being here when I needed you.”