Page 12 of Wild Side
“Aunty Tabby Cat and I love flowers,” he finishes with a thoughtful nod before turning his attention back to the caterpillar.
“Tabby Cat?” Rhys asks.
I shrug nonchalantly. “Long-standing nickname.”
His eyes skitter across me, searching my face from beneath his heavy brow as though I’m incredibly suspicious in some way, and I quickly drop his gaze. This guy is one big nerve-wracking mindfuck. My nose prickles and I glance away, skin crawling under the weight of his gaze, heart pounding like it might beat right out of my chest. I don’t know why it feels like my worthiness of being around Milo is being assessed right now, but it does.
And I swear Milo must sense my discomfort, because one of his arms reaches back to wrap around my thigh in an absent-minded side hug.
My nephew may find nothing strange about this meeting, but I do. So I steer the conversation back to the issue at hand, keeping things vague. “So what brings you here unexpectedly?” I ask, before dropping my voice and adding in a saccharine tone, “Other than enjoying kicking people while they’re down.”
The tendon in Rhys’s jaw flexes, and he rolls his eyes.
Irritating him feels like success, so I take it as a win and carry on. “I was assuming I’d hear a response to my invite before you showed up.”
“I needed to see the situation for myself.”
I scoff, threading my fingers through Milo’s thick hair as though that will help set my nerves at ease. “The situation is—” I stop short from eviscerating him with my words when Milo turns and presses an absent kiss to my thigh. He’s always been snuggly and affectionate, and I’ve always soaked up that aspect of him.
I peer back up at Rhys, only to see him staring at the spot on my jeans. His eyes linger where pudgy fingers tap happily against denim, as though he can’t believe what he’s seeing.
“The situation is…” My words come out gently, but my glare expresses how I feel about him. He’s an intruder. An interloper. Someone who doesn’t know shit about shit when it comes to me and the lengths I’ll go to protect the people I love. “That Milo will be heading to my parents’ place right away. And then I have a meeting. In fact, it’s one you may want to sit in on since you fancy yourself so intrinsic to this entire situation.”
Milo turns and looks up at us. “I get to go to Grandma and Grandpa’s house?”
Rhys’s head flips in his direction, and his body language shows his discomfort. His massive biceps cross, and he seems to rock from side to side.
I force a smile as I ignore him and focus on my nephew. “You know it. Sleep over too, since I work tonight. I’ll be there in the morning to get you.”
“Will you bring chocolate croissants?” The way he pronouncescroissantsusually cracks me up, but today it just makes me sad.
I’d taken him to the bistro this morning to have them fresh out of the oven. I watched him lick his fingers with such enjoyment and spent the whole time thinking how gutted I’d be to never get to see him gobble up my baking again. The little noises he makes when he’s enjoying something. The way his eyes go extra round when he asks for another one.
It had almost moved me to tears, except West Belmont rolled in all smiles and chuckles and talking about his dorky bowling team, which provided the perfect distraction to keep myself together.
“I could—” a deep voice starts.
“Of course! I bet Grandma and Grandpa would love that too. Milo, I packed your bag already.” I cut in before Rhys can say something that would undoubtedly be overstepping. Because I swear I can see it written all over him. I’m aware of the legal ramifications of that will, but if he thinks I will roll over, give him my nephew, and send them on their merry way, he’s got another thing coming. “Why don’t you go grab it from your room?”
Milo’s cheeks go round on a wide grin, and he nods excitedly. “Be right back!” He tears off, running a few strides before turning back to face us. “Don’t go anywhere. Not youoryou,” he adds, pointing at both Rhys and me in turn.
Then he blasts happily through the front door, oblivious to the tension and heartbreak surrounding him.
“He has a room here?” Rhys’s brows furrow when he asks the question.
I hate to give him a single thing, but I can’t help but notice he looks genuinely confounded. “Of course. He spends a lot of time with me.”
He swallows heavily before straightening, his expression giving nothing away. “And he likes to spend time with your parents?”
Now it’s my turn to scrunch my features in confusion. “I mean, yeah. They spoil the hell out of him. What three-year-old wouldn’t love that?”
He gives one firm nod. “I thought they weren’t in the picture.”
“Seems like you thought a lot of things without knowing a single one.”
Rhys shifts in place, cheeks burning, and I can’t help but think:Good. You could stand to be taken down a few pegs.
“I thought she was… they were…”
