Wild Side (Rose Hill, #3)(35)

I swear she’s purring.

“Surprise?” I say, feeling less sure of my payback for the alarm system now that Rhys is marrying me as a favor.

“What the fuck is that?”

“A cat. Her name is Cleocatra.”

“Why?”

Yeah, he’s not seeing the humor in this at all. “You can call her Cleo for short.”

“No, Tabitha. I meant, why is there a fucking cat in the house?”

I bristle. “Listen, this is still my house. Still my life. If you’re expecting me to be a subservient little wife, then I’ve got news for you, pal. So yeah, if I want a cat, I’ll get one. Just like how if you want an alarm system, you’ll get one.”

His jaw goes tight. “I doubt that anyone in their entire life has used the word subservient to describe you.”

“Thank you,” I preen.

“I’m allergic.”

My eyes roam over him speculatively. “How allergic?”

“It’s complicated.” He can’t even look at me. My eyes widen in time with my grin.

“You’re not allergic at all, are you? You big fucking drama queen!”

That earns me an eye roll and a grumbled, “I hate cats.”

“That’s not an allergy. That’s a preference.”

“I still hate cats,” he deadpans.

I smile sweetly in response. “Whatever. Just don’t let Milo hear you say that. He’s very much in love with Cleocatra.”

The rumble in Rhys’s chest should be intimidating, but he doesn’t scare me at all. So, I walk toward him and pat his shoulder. “You can consider her an engagement gift. You’re welcome.”

Then I breeze past, going to get my phone so I can make some calls and share our big, exciting, not-at-all-nauseating, happy news.

“Wait.” I turn back to the forlorn-looking giant standing in my kitchen, staring at the floor like he’s just witnessed some terrible accident. “When’s the wedding going to be?”

“Soon.”

“How soon?”

His head joggles as he considers. “How long does a marriage certificate take to get?”

“I don’t know. A couple of weeks?”

He nods. “Then we do it as soon as possible. I won’t be able to get back into the States without it.”

“Don’t you need time for your family to book flights or something?”

His expression turns stony. “No. We should do it next weekend. I’m due back at work as soon as possible.”

I swallow in response, not sure what to make of his chilly reply but not feeling comfortable enough to press him any further. “Next weekend? A week to plan?”

“Sure.”

Sure.

God, I could barf. The nonchalance of that response sends my stomach plummeting. Guilt and nerves hit hard along with something else.

Disappointment.

Because, deep down, I wish there were a tiny bit of enthusiasm. I wish there were a spark of…I don’t know. Camaraderie?

He doesn’t even want his family present, and it stings.

It makes me realize this might not be as easy of a sell as we think. We will have to lie our asses off. But lying to everyone around me shouldn’t be too hard. I’ve been keeping secrets where Rhys is concerned for weeks now.

It’s lying to myself that feels like it’s going to be a challenge.





CHAPTER 16


Rhys





Rhys: Need to tell Milo in the morning.

Tabby: What a romantic good night text from my fiancé.

Rhys: I’m serious.

Tabby: So am I.

Rhys: You bought me a cat. Romance is dead in this house.

Tabby: Or maybe you don’t understand my love language?

Rhys: Is it pettiness?

Tabby: “Pettiness is my love language.” I’d wear that shirt!

Rhys: Stop avoiding my question.

Tabby: Fine. Maybe we shouldn’t tell him? It seems terrible to lie to a three-year-old. Being oblivious sounds very relaxing to me.

Rhys: Tabitha, he’s going to be here with us. At the wedding. Out in public. He’ll hear people talking. He’s young, but he isn’t stupid.

Tabby: Okay. But I’m not telling him alone.

Rhys: We’ll do it together.



“I’m not going to be back in time for the show on Monday.”

Anthony groans. “What the hell, Rhys. We just wrote your entire comeback. You’re mid-feud.” I grimace with my phone still held to my ear. I was already prepared for this to go over poorly. Anthony has always been an entitled asshole, but because of my popularity, I’ve been spared. “I know. And that’s not the worst part.”

“Oh good,” he replies sarcastically. Anthony is a businessman through and through. The bottom dollar and the viewership rates reign supreme. His wrestlers’ mental and physical health come after that.

And me spending too much time away from the ring is not good for his business. Especially after my on-and-off returns with ongoing knee issues. The ones I finally got clearance to have surgically repaired rather than continuing to run myself into the fucking ground. “What’s the worst part?” he asks.

“I’m going to need a couple of weeks.”