Wild Side (Rose Hill, #3)(61)

“Marriage certificate is here,” she says with forced enthusiasm, holding it up to me.

“Oh.” I stop and stare at it. I should be happy, because we were waiting for this. It makes everything easier. I go on the road, and Tabitha keeps Milo at home. We eventually only meet up for… I don’t know. Christmas? Easter?

Suddenly, I’m relieved that Tabitha didn’t tell me to keep going earlier. Bad as it stung, having to pull away from her after taking that turn would be worse. No, this is better. We can part ways as two…friendly acquaintances. Sharing nothing but brief moments of insanity to laugh about when Milo is older.

Yes, this is much better. So long as I ignore the nausea building in the pit of my stomach over leaving them, this is just fine.

My feet carry me forward, and I take a tentative seat beside her. I reach for the envelope, and her gaze stays on me as I peel it open. My hand shakes when I pull out the contents, and I know she notices, because she slides a comforting palm over my knee.

Then, under the porch light, I analyze the marriage certificate. Our marriage certificate. Tabitha Lynn Garrison. Rhys Malcolm Dupris. I run my fingers over her name and then mine. Her name proudly chosen by her parents, the same middle name as her mom. My name…a mystery. I’ll never get to know why they chose my name, only that people who gave me up assigned it to me along the way. A thread of shame tightens in me.

“You don’t have to take my last name, you know,” I say, keeping my gaze on the certificate. “I’m not a fan of it either.”

She rests a shoulder against mine. “I love your last name. It’s strong. It suits you. I like the way it sounds with your first name. I just…”

“I know. We’re not—”

“No, it’s not you. It’s Milo. He’s a Garrison. I feel like matching that will just be easier for school and stuff as he gets older. And I feel tied to my sister with our last name in a way. I’m actually not sure I’ll ever change it.”

I nod. “Smart. That makes sense.”

And it is. And it does. But something about it hurts. I’m still on the outside. Still on my own. I’ve got a pretend family—but not a real one.

I bump my shoulder against hers. “I’m gonna have to hit the road now, you know.”

“I know.” It grows so quiet that I can hear her swallow. “How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know. I need to make up for some lost time. Anthony is far too excited about the creative liberties they can take while I’m not there.” I scrub a hand over my mouth, somehow dreading saying this out loud. “Weeks? The lead-up to Pure Pandemonium will be busy.”

“Weeks,” she repeats the word back to me as though it’s new to her. “Okay.”

“I’ll…uh…” I clear my throat, feeling emotional about leaving them for weeks. This woman and this little boy who I’ve grown to…care for. “I’ll make sure I pick Milo up in the morning, say goodbye to your parents and him. Maybe I’ll take him to the park for a bit. Then I should drive to the city and start heading back.”

“Okay. Yeah, of course. Sounds good.”

Her thumb moves in a circle on my knee, and my lips quirk up.

That’s my move.

“I’m going to hit the hay,” she says, pushing to stand.

I nod, but don’t look up. Then her fingers glide into my hair, combing through tentatively. Nothing like earlier today. When the tips of her fingers slip from my scalp, I miss the pressure of them. The heat of her nearness.

God. I’m so fucked.

The door creaks as she departs, and I don’t look back until the sounds of her moving stop altogether.

“Hey, Rhys?”

I glance over my shoulder, and her beauty steals the air from my lungs. All done up, the porch light shining down on her like a spotlight screaming, She’s the one!

I clear my throat. “Yeah?”

“Gwen seems sweet. What I meant to tell you earlier is that she told me you talk about me all the time. And the restaurant.”

I shrug. Gwen is sweet. But clearly, she got to me with her chatter about opening your love chakras and creating space for your heart to heal from past bruises or whatever other hippie shit she spouts. Her salt-of-the-earth ramblings though…

They made me loose-lipped.

They made me think of Tabitha.

And on the off chance my new yoga teacher was getting the wrong idea about me and my reasons for attending her class, I raved about my wife.

“She said she can tell that you’re proud of me.” Tabitha’s voice comes out thin, and she covers the vulnerability of the sentence with a sarcastic scoff. Always covering with dry humor and cutting one-liners, as though she expects me to roll my eyes and play it off. As though she’s spent a lifetime being overlooked and expects the same from me. I look her dead in the eye and tell her the truth.

“I am proud of you, Tabitha.”

“Thanks. I…” Her voice fades out, and she looks away shyly. “You’re a good man, Rhys. I hope you know that. I think Milo moving in next to you was meant to be. I’m glad he has you.”

My nose stings, and I nod again as I watch her turn and retreat into the house. I desperately want to say something, to call her back out here. But I just…can’t.