Wild Side (Rose Hill, #3)(90)
And when I send them out a crème br?lée to share, 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?”
I snort and open the door wider, inviting them in. “You guys know West. He’s like an excited border collie, herding us all together. I didn’t even know I was hosting this until today.”
My parents chatter away happily as more people arrive.
Bash comes first. Gwen comes second. And they are like the same sides of a magnet—they stay as far away from each other as possible. Each takes one of my parents and clearly works hard to engage so they can avoid each other. If I wasn’t so damn nosy, it might be funny. But all it does is make me want to ask what the fuck is the story between them.
Skylar, West, and his two kids, Ollie and Emmy, arrive, and West greets me with his usual enthusiastic “Tabby Cat!”
My lips twitch. He’s impossible not to like, and I love seeing him so happy with Skylar. I hug them both and gesture toward the living room where people are gathering.
“I’m so glad you planned this.” He pushes his shoulder against mine and grins playfully.
“Oh, is that what I did? I planned this? You are like the head of the town social committee or something.”
“West.” Skylar shoots him a look. “Whose idea was this?”
He shrugs. “What? Emmy always says that no just means try harder, and it seems to work for her. Plus, we’re talking about our boy. He’s bad at bowling, but it sounds like he might be good at this. It’s our job to cheer him on.”
My annoyance evaporates, and I’m struck by how much I love this for Rhys. I wish he could see it. “Don’t worry about it. It’s gonna be fun.”
The living room continues to fill, and Milo is thriving with all the attention and the thrill of having other kids around. Cleo makes herself at home on Skylar’s lap, and then more people join the mix. Ford, Rosie, and a chagrined-looking Cora stand at the door.
“Hi!” Rosie says brightly, holding up a bottle of wine. “I brought booze! I know it’s a Monday, but, as they say, it’s Friday somewhere.”
Ford rolls his eyes, but I don’t miss the way his lips twitch. “That’s not possible, Rosie. The saying is—”
“Whatever. Come on, buzzkill. This will be like sports with a bit of drama. Almost literary in nature. You’ll love it.” She yanks him by the hand, winking at me as she passes, and I can’t help but laugh.
Ford would do anything for Rosie and—as I’ve learned with Skylar and the way he helped her through a career nightmare—for his friends. He might come off as prickly, but he’s a big softie underneath, and I get a kick out of watching my friend keep him on his toes.
I’m left staring at Cora, and we both say, “I’m sorry—” before stopping and laughing.
Her cheeks glow as she says, “Listen, I’m sorry for crushing on your husband. I’m over it now that I know he’s so old.”
I school my features so I don’t burst out laughing. Thirty-five isn’t old, but I don’t tell her that.
“I’m still a fan of him as a wrestler, though, okay? Like I can’t just pick a new fav. So I’m still gonna wear this shirt and shit.” She’s dressed in head-to-toe black with a pink scrunchie in her hair, but her shirt sports the Wild Side logo in lime green.