Page 51 of Falling for the Carpenter

Chapter 17

“Hey.” Melanie stepped inside the room that Rhys had moved into. It had been the first one finalized and suited him so well that it almost felt as if it had been designed with him in mind. Maybe on a subconscious level that was exactly what she had done.

Rhys was sitting on his bed, still wearing the jeans and t-shirt he had worn to the park. His shoulders were slumped and his head dipped between his shoulders. She felt sorry for him.

She sat down next to him, feeling the crisp new set of linen sheets that a Minion had sent him; midnight blue and sprinkled with stars.

He didn’t look up.

“Just got a notification on Instagram,” she told him. “Seems that Mr. Happy is at a soccer stadium in Marseille tonight. They’re playing against Bordeaux.” She took out her phone and showed him the video clip: Mr. Happy was wrapped in the team’s blue and white wooly scarf, with their pennants strung between his horns. Three cheerleaders were enthusiastically twerking on his person while a fourth was offering him a sip of her champagne. “Lucky guy, huh?” she said. “To be honest, he’s probably having a way better life out there than he’d have had on the front porch of the cottage.”

Rhys cracked the tiniest smile. “Wonder where he’ll go next.”

“Summit of Mt. Blanc,” she suggested.

“Swimming with sharks.”

“Mardi Gras in Nice. With loads of beads round his neck.”

Rhys giggled, and for the first time, allowed his eyes to lift to meet hers. After several moments, he said, “I’m sorry, Mom.”

She shook her head. “It’s okay. I just didn’t realize you missed your dad so much.” It was the dilemma of the divorced mom; having to accept that just because you no longer had a husband, it didn’t mean your kid no longer had a father. “I’m sorry if I kept him away from you.”

He shook his head. “It’s okay. I think I understand why. He was kind of…,” he paused, agonizing between speaking the truth and being loyal to his parent, “sort of mean to me,” he eventually admitted.

Melanie struggled to soften that blow, so that Rhys wouldn’t be left with the feeling that he deserved that kind of treatment. Lord knew, she’d suffered under that delusion for way too many years. “I don’t think he really understands who you are.”

“I don’t think he ever understood who you are, either.” Rhys inched closer and rested his head on her shoulder. She wanted to take him into her arms but wondered if he’d reached the age where he had begun to think he was too old for mommy-hugs.

But she couldn’t deny how perceptive her sweet boy was, so she nodded slowly. She felt a fleeting moment of embarrassment, as if the world had noticed that she’d chosen poorly and were whispering behind her back. But she refused to regret marrying Wilder, if only because if she hadn’t, she would never have had her son.

So she said, “I spoke to your dad.”

He lifted his head.

“He’s free to text and call you, but you are never to meet with him again without my permission, okay?”

He gave her a long considering look. “Okay, I guess. I don’t always feel that happy when I’m around him in person, you know? I always feel like I can’t be me.” Then he added, “At least I have Corbin.”

Melanie felt a chill swoop in. “What do you mean?”

Rhys shrugged. “He’s cool, and he gets me. He never makes me feel bad about what I read, or what I like to do.”

She had noticed that the two had been spending more and more time with each other lately; every evening after work they had either gone wandering in the garden or sat on the porch talking about science, animals, and stars. That made her smile. “He’s a good guy.”

“Yeah,” Rhys agreed. “He must have been an awesome dad.”

She froze, not sure she had heard him right. “What did you say?”

Rhys’s eyes were open and honest, even as he unwittingly dropped his bombshell. “I said I bet he was a really great dad to his son. You know, the one that died.”

She shot off the bed, spinning around to stare at him in shock. “Corbin had a child?”

Rhys nodded in confirmation, perplexed. “Sure. He didn’t tell you?”

“No,” she said slowly. “He didn’t.”

“Oh. Well, he told me. Remember that telescope he lent me? It belonged to Luca.”

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