25. Ridley
TWENTY-FIVE
RIDLEY
I’m such a coward. It’s been three days since I realized I’m falling for Wren in a serious way and I haven’t said a single word.
I’ve been too busy soaking up every smile, lingering glance, steamy session, and sleepy cuddle.
Every night he comes to my room and every morning we wake up together.
It’s been so damn nice I’m afraid to fuck it all up by saying something stupid.
And right now, staring at him across the kitchen as he choreographs a series of dishes with his cooks, my heart beats a little faster. I’ve fallen for him. Completely.
Now I’m obsessing over how to tell him since I’ve never done it before.
Do I just blurt it out after sex? Or whisper it while we lounge in the bath?
Do I make a big deal of it, take him out to dinner or something out of the ordinary?
Except when would I do that? We’re both always here at night.
I guess I could pull something off on a Sunday. Maybe have food delivered?
“Table eight up,” Wren says, wiping the edge of the plate with a napkin before sliding it toward me.
I heard him, saw the plate coming my way, but I’m frozen, lost in his pretty eyes.
“Rid? You okay?”
Blinking, I snap out of it and clear my throat. “Daydreaming. I’m good. See you later?”
“Count on it.”
I grab the plate of salmon and exit the kitchen to deliver it, but I notice out of the corner of my eye a little commotion at the bar. A guy is leaning over the bar toward Florian and our other bartender, Jax. Kit is already on his way to the bar when I hurry over.
“All I’m asking is to talk to him for a second. Is that against the law?”
“No, sir, it’s not,” Florian says. “All I was saying is that it may take a while because we’re in the middle of a dinner rush.”
“Five minutes,” the man says, but I swear he just slurred his words.
“What’s going on?” Kit asks before I can.
The customer swings around aggressively, narrowing his eyes but then backing off a little when he gets a look at Kit. He’s no match for Kit’s build, but he looks like he could hold his own in most crowds.
“I want to see the chef,” the customer says.
“We can let him know. Is he expecting you?”
The customer turns in my direction, his eyes heating with anger. “It’s you.”
“Do I know you?”
He scoffs, stepping closer to me in what I think is meant to be a menacing move, but seriously, dude? How old are we?
“You took him.” The man pokes me in his chest. “That’s why he doesn’t call anymore. It’s you.”
“Sorry, man, I’m not following.”
“Wren,” he says, raising his voice slightly. “You stole Wren from me.”
Ah, shit. “What’s your name?”
“You know my fucking name.” He reaches out and shoves my shoulder, but he’s clearly drunk so it doesn’t pack the punch he was probably hoping for. “I want to see Wren.”
“I think you need to go. You’ve clearly been drinking. We can call you a ride.”
“I want to see Wren,” he says, raising his voice again.
Within seconds, Indy, Bane, and Jerryn show up too, followed quickly by Lowen and Oakley.
“Time to go,” Kit says, putting his hand on the man’s shoulder and guiding him to the door, but he shakes free, tearing off toward the back. Fortunately, Indy and Oakley are there to stop him.
“I just want to talk to him, but he blocked me.” The man chuckles darkly. “He fucking blocked me.”
“Trent?”
I turn to see Wren and Salem pushing past Indy and Oakley.
“What are you doing here?”
Well fuck. I had a feeling it was him but I wasn’t sure.
Trent smiles, practically tripping over his feet to get closer, but Wren steps back, retreating between Indy and Oakley.
Trent drags his hand through his disheveled hair, his eyes moving rapidly around to all of us.
“Wren,” Trent says. “You look good.”
“You’ve been drinking,” Wren says. “You should go home.”
“Not without you. You’ve been doing so much, and I was wrong. So wrong. Your dreams weren’t too big. You did it.”
Wren crosses his arms over his chest. “Go home, Trent.”
“I see it now,” Trent says, stepping closer to Wren, who flinches slightly but stands firm.
The sight of my man being bold even in the face of his obvious nerves makes my heart swell even more. I march over and clamp my hand on Trent’s shoulder.
“He doesn’t want to talk to you. Time to go.”
Trent shoves my hand away. “You made him leave me, didn’t you? He’d still be with me if it wasn’t for you. I see you guys walking home at night, holding hands and shit.” He turns back to Wren. “I can do that too. I know you needed more romance. I can be that guy. I miss you so much.”
Wren’s expression is hard to read, but the damn insecurity spreading through me isn’t. What if he still has some lingering feelings for this douche and decides to give him another shot just as I’m falling in love? That would be some shit.
“You’ve been following me?” Wren asks. “That’s unhinged.”
“I just wanted to talk to you, but you’re always with him. I want to show you that I can be the guy you want. I know I can. I saw you on TV. You made it, baby.”
“Don’t call me baby.” Wren’s voice is flat. His eyes flit to me for a second, and I want to run over and swoop him away from this loser. “I’ll talk to you outside.”
“No, Wren,” Salem says. “He’s been drinking.”
“I spent years of my life with him. I know how to handle it. Carlos can watch the kitchen for a few minutes.”
My heart beats rapidly with nerves. I’m not sure this is a good idea, but Wren is an adult.
“Five minutes,” Indy says, glaring at Trent. “If you’re not back inside by then, we’re coming out.”
Trent swallows visibly.
I watch helplessly as Wren walks out of the restaurant, followed by a man who has been described as abusive in the past. To say I’m a wreck is an understatement.
“He’ll be okay, man,” Indy says, rubbing my shoulder. “We’ve got his back.”
Nodding, I bite my bottom lip as they step out of view. This might be the longest five minutes of my life.