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For anyone who has loved someone not because they are perfect but because you manage to find beauty in all their shades of gray.
Yeah. Tabitha, sister of my new tenant, is hot, looks like she thinks I might have bodies buried in my basement, and has a mean handshake. Strangely, I’m into it.
What isn’t a mystery to me is that he’s the one who put her there. Rhys is the one who upended her fragile balance by kicking her out.
It hurts to watch. It hurts because I’ll take no pleasure in removing Milo from this place. But it’s what I promised Erika I’d do.
All I know is that I spent my childhood in the system, passed from foster home to foster home, and I won’t be letting the same thing happen to Milo. Over my dead body.
Rhys might as well know what he’s up against. That I’m combative, snarky, and slow to forgive. Character flaws, yes. True? Also, yes.
Rhys Dupris may be easy on the eyes, but he’s a fucking nightmare for my heart.
“Let’s go, Tabby,” the first thing my jumbled brain fixates on is that he’s never called me Tabby before. And I hate how much I like it.
Truth be told, I hang on every word out of Tabitha Garrison’s mouth.
“Hey, asshole. I made you a bowl of carbonara so that I won’t have to hear your stomach all the way upstairs. I didn’t even poison it. Bon appétit and good night.” The door creaks as she closes it, but then it stops. Light spills down the stairs once again as she adds, “Oh, and I sleep with a gun under my pillow, so don’t try anything weird.” I drop my chin, and a smile curves my lips. Because I’m pretty sure that—in her own way—Tabitha Garrison was just nice to me.
When I become Wild Side, everything falls into place.
I know Rhys says he means well, but I can’t help feeling like I’m being tested. And if I’m not up to his standards, I’ll have failed. Something I hate to do. I already feel like I failed Erika. I can’t fail this too.
His hips sway in a slow and natural motion. His ass… His. Ass.
Rhys isn’t as bad as you make him out to be.
I actually want this.
“Just fucking let me take care of you. Where is it?” He glances up at me, and my stomach bottoms out. All those dark features homed in on me. Him on his knees for me. Wanting to take care of me
I think deep down I dread the thought of never seeing them again—adding them to the list of families I was never welcome to join.
“I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with me being a porn star. If you want to see me fuck someone, the bathroom is right there. Drag me in there right now, and you can watch in the mirror while I bend you over.”
Rhys has always given off big dick energy. But I know now it’s not so much energy as big dick knowledge. Big dick surety? Big dick guarantee
It seems like texting grunts and scowls back and forth would be rather anticlimactic.
Which is why I blurt out my totally absurd idea before I can think it through with my usual level of care. “Marry me.”
“I’ll marry you, Tabitha.”
You bought me a cat. Romance is dead in this house.
Or maybe you don’t understand my love language? Rhys: Is it pettiness? Tabby: “Pettiness is my love language.” I’d wear that shirt!
My fiancée is pushing her fucking luck with this trick.
“Erika! Aunty Tabby Cat and Ree are getting married!”
“Rhys told me to tell you he tracked down your favorite flowers.” I quirk a brow at my friend. “Oh he did, did he?” “Yeah. Apparently, Cat Whiskers are not a common bridal choice, and he had to have them shipped in by special order.”
Over the past weeks, it’s become clear that the only person looking out for Tabitha is Tabitha. And fuck if it doesn’t make me want to look out for her too. If there’s no one else to take up her cause, it might as well be her husband.
It’s the detailed black tattoos that swirl on his right arm that give him away. Heat suffuses my body. I may barely know the man, and I may have never watched wrestling before, but I identify him instantly.
Then I walk back into my house to face Wild Side.
“What? It’s true. Brass knuckles? If that clown sends you back bruised again, I’ll beat his ass myself.”
But more than that, it makes me feel like we’re really fucking lucky to be stuck with Rhys.
“Oh yeah. He’s been coming to my classes, and he’s quiet, ya know? So I’ve tried to get him talking a bit, and he’s always all”—she puffs up and drops her voice in imitation of him—“My wife this, my wife that. Did you know my wife owns that restaurant?
Yes, wife.
Lol. My girl has food on the brain *always*. My girl
Tabby: Rhys. I’ll call us a family if I want to.
The heavy weight of realizing I’m the one who failed her is unbearable. For the first time since my sister’s death, I cry.
“Tabitha. You’re my wife. I’m not leaving you.”
“I wish you weren’t seeing me like this.” My brow furrows. “Like what?” “At my worst.” I tip my head toward her. “Then it’s all uphill from here, baby. It’s going to make seeing you at your best so damn special.”
She stares at me with that same look from the bathroom, and I can’t quite put my finger on what it means. All I know is no one has ever looked at me the way Tabitha Garrison does.
Someone who cares put together this room, and it makes my heart fall hard on a heavy stutter step. No one has ever put a room together for me. But Tabitha did.
I knew I missed him. I just didn’t realize until now that I needed him.
Does love start off as obsession? Because that’s what I am. Obsessed with my wife.
It makes me wish I could tell her thank you for bringing me Tabitha.
He’s a shy boy at heart.
My newest secret is that I’m happy. Being married to Rhys makes me happy. Really, truly happy.
I know your last name is Dupris, but I’m sure proud to consider you a son. An honorary Garrison. You’ve got the heart of one.”
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 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.
This was his idea, or at least I think that’s what he meant when earlier in our showdown, he whispered, “Daddy, put me through the table. They’ll love it. Let’s bring it home.” I’d put him through the table for calling me “Daddy” alone.
