Page 116 of Wild Side
I pop up on my toes and press a quick kiss to his shapely mouth, not caring about the audience one bit. Rhys slips his tongue against mine, sending a shiver down my spine. He’s always had this effect on me, and it hasn’t lessened at all. In fact, it’s getting more intense the better I get to know him.
I pull away, giving him a scolding look even as I lick my lips. He smirks, like he knows what he does to me.
With a shake of my head, I step over to the bar. “You boys, sit. What are you having tonight, Mi?”
“Crème brûlée,” he exclaims, though it sounds more likecram boolaywith his toddler pronunciation.
“Healthy food first, little man,” Rhys laughs. Rhys who has been eating copious amounts of chicken and rice since he came back. I swear he eats nonstop.
“I’ll surprise you guys,” is what I settle on before dropping a kiss on Milo’s head and giving the back of Rhys’s hair a flirty little tug.
Then I’m back in the kitchen. Back in the flow. Though my eyes never stray from them. Rhys engages with Milo the entire time, and I watch him teaching Milo how to play tic-tac-toe. Hislarge frame leans in toward the little boy while his huge hand holds the crayon so delicately. Him cutting up Milo’s chicken and blowing on it to cool it down almost puts me over the edge.
They are a gift. And Erika, in her own complicated way, gave them to me. And I love her for it. In all her complex glory, I love her.
I will forever be grateful to her. In fact, I think I understand her better than ever. And my parents too. Things with them have been a tangled mess, but I think I’ve found my way. I’ve made peace with their choices.
And I’ve made peace with mine. I chose Milo and Rhys. And now I can’t get enough of seeing them together. Listening to Rhys read him a bedtime story. Witnessing the way Milo’s entire face lights up when Rhys walks into the room.
Even now, I could watch them together all night.
Milo speaks in toddler, and Rhys makes eye contact with him as he listens. In fact, the kid doesn’t stop talking the entire time, and Rhys can barely get a word in edgewise. It’s like he lights up around Rhys, thrives on his attention.
And when I send them out a crème brûlée toshare, I swear Rhys only takes a bite, letting Milo finish the rest. He shoots me a guilty look, and I quirk a brow at him. It sends his attention back to Milo but leaves him smiling.
Smiling.
It makes me realize how much more of that he’s been doing. Like, although no one would believe our story, he somehow ended up happy about it.
I think he’s craved this. Friends. Family. A home. But he never knew how to go about getting it, and somehow being forced into it worked out.
And that night, when we get home with an overtired, over-sugared Milo, who is on the verge of a meltdown, we do another thing Rhys has never done before.
We all crawl into my king-sized bed together.
In the dark, quiet room Rhys whispers, “Night, Mi. Love you, buddy.”
Milo yawns and I can hear the smile in his words when he responds easily with, “Love you too, Ree.”
I brush away the dampness on my lashes as my eyes adjust and the silhouette of them cuddled together takes shape before me. I swear I can feel the love between them.
Then my gaze meets Rhys’s and it just… stays.
I’m not sure how long we lie staring at each other in the dark with a sleeping Milo between us. All I know is that I fall asleep with the warm weight of his eyes on me… and wake up under the same loving gaze.
And when I ask him if he slept at all, he shrugs and says, “Best sleep of my life.”
When the doorbell rings, I expect West is on the other side, so I swing it open, only to come face-to-face with my parents.
“I brought beers, and I want my own chair,” Dad says.
“What are you guys doing here?”
My mom rolls up onto her toes, shrugging her purse higher on her shoulder like she can’t contain her excitement. “We ran into West, and he said you were having people over to watch Rhys on TV.”
“Oh.” Yes. I received a text from West this morning informing me I should host a watch party tonight since I don’t work on Mondays. He invited himself over, and my parents too, apparently.
“Really, Tabby?” My dad rolls his eyes. “You didn’t think to invite us?”
