by Nicole Dykes
“Brand new, and it was handed to me.” Rhys places his hands on the table between us and Gillian and looks up at the ceiling.
“It’s in your name, Rhys. And Chris will back you up.”
His eyes snap to hers. “I don’t need him to back me up.” She goes to cover his hand, and he jerks it away quickly. She looks slightly stunned, and I want to tell her he just has a weird thing with touching, but I don’t want to piss him off.
She recovers quickly though. “It doesn’t matter. On paper, you’re a business owner, and it’s doing well. You have no criminal record.”
He snorts again. “I should.”
“But you don’t. Your record is clean.” She holds up her hands in rebuttal. “And don’t tell me about any illegal things you’ve been involved in. As long as there isn’t a record, then you’re fine.”
He swallows, and I watch the movement while Gillian continues.
“You have Bree, who wants to be with you. And Blair is employed and quite frankly, an Ashton.”
Normally I hate my last name and the pull it has, no matter how much I appear to love my spoiled little rich girl persona, but right now I feel a sense of relief. “My last name can help?’
She nods. “When you’re going against a Herrington? Yes.”
“That’s fucked up,” Rhys says, making my cheeks flame with embarrassment. I know how he feels about the rich and privileged.
“If it can help, it can help. I’m not losing her.” I turn my head back to focus only on Gillian. “What else?”
She looks nervous now. “Well, the only thing they have over you two, is they’re married.”
I almost gulp, and I can feel Rhys stiffen next to me. “No fucking way.”
She gathers the folders that are in front of her. “I know. It’s a big step, but it will go a long way in your favor if you’re married and adopting her together.”
I don’t dare look at Rhys. “A long way?”
Gillian looks at us both affectionately. “Yes. A very long way. I don’t see how they could deny you as long as no one gets into trouble before then and you’re married.”
Rhys is silent as Gillian rises. “I’ve done as much as I can. Morgan’s right, she’ll be the one called to speak at the hearing. All I can do is advise you to think very hard about how badly you want to keep Bree from the Herringtons. This is a huge decision, and I know neither of you will take it lightly.”
“Thank you, Gillian.” I stand, and she gives me a hug.
She doesn’t touch Rhys, who is still sitting down, but she waves sympathetically to him before she exits.
“Don’t even think about it, Blair.”
I’m annoyed with him as I sit back down, facing him as I sit sideways in my chair. “We have to. You heard her.”
He turns to look at me, his eyes hard. “You want to fucking marry me? Me?”
“Yes.” I answer with no hesitation, and he looks horrified. “I want Bree safe.”
“This isn’t playing house, Blair. Or even a fucking game. This is her life. This is permanent. This is us getting married and having a kid.”
I hate how disgusted he sounds at the thought, but I push through for her. “I love her. And don’t fucking make fun of me . . .” He just stares. “This is your fault. I shouldn’t have gotten all attached, but I did. I want her.”
“And me?” His voice is hoarse.
I don’t know how to answer that. I don’t know if there’s actually a future with Rhys considering he won’t let me in and he won’t let me touch him, but I do care about him. “It’s paperwork.”
“Blair . . .” His elbows drop to the table in front of him. “I can’t do this.”
“Yes. You can.”
“I can’t rob you of your life too.”
God, he thinks being married to him would be a prison. “Look, Rhys.” I almost reach for him, but I stop myself. He must have sensed it because he drops his arms flat on the table and turns to look at me. “You’re a broody asshole. And a real pain. But you’re not bad to look at, you seem to have a good heart in there as evidenced by you wanting to save Bree, and . . .” I shrug, “you’re a good fuck when you want to be.”
He rolls his eyes, and I laugh, but he doesn’t look mad. “Marriage is a big deal.”
“Only if we make it that way. I wasn’t planning on ever getting married, but who cares? If we can save her, let’s do it.”
He swivels his body to completely face me. “You really want to do this?”
“Yes.” I say it instantly with a smile, never wavering. “I do.”
“You’ll regret this.”
I know I won’t. As long as we get Bree and ensure her safety, I don’t care what happens to my heart.
She has officially lost her fucking mind. I mean, I want to protect Bree more than anyone, but marriage? This has gotten out of control.
By the time we leave the social services office, it’s time to pick up Bree. After dropping off Blair’s car at the house, we swing by the school, but we’re a few minutes early.
“Talk to me.”
I look over at her, surprised she’s still trying. I don’t get it. “About what? Getting legally fucking married to each other?”
“Yes.” She looks down at her phone. “It says here Missouri has no wait time on a marriage license. We can go tomorrow, get our license, and be married by a judge before noon.”
Jesus fucking Christ. She holds up her phone, showing me the official website she has open. I just lean my head back and try to take some deep breaths.
Married. As in actually married.
That’s something I never planned to be. I look up in time to see Bree walking out toward the pickup line with both boys in tow. They’re always by her side, and it shouldn’t, but it fucking irks me.
“God, they’re cute.” I turn to look at Blair, annoyed by her statement.
“They’re twelve.”
She laughs. “I mean the three of them, best friends for life. And yeah, you can already tell they’re all going to be devastatingly beautiful.”
My hands clench tightly around the steering wheel as Bree and the boys, Fletcher and Rhett, stand beside the car, joking around. Even I have to admit, it’s good to see Bree being a kid with a smile on her face. These boys seem to be able to do that for her.
I roll down the window. “Come on. We can’t hold up the line.”
Blair shoots me an annoyed look. “Damn. Chill, Dad.”
“That’s what I’ll be if we go through with this.” I keep my voice low, and Blair just shrugs me off. Bree rolls her eyes at me from outside the car, waves goodbye to the boys, and climbs in the back seat.
“Why are you both here?”
My body tenses, but Blair turns around in her seat to look back at Bree. “We had a meeting with the social worker bitch.”
Bree visibly straightens in her seat, and I know she’s worried but is trying to remain calm on the outside. “What did she want?”
I hear the quivering in her voice even though she’s trying her best to hide it. I exit the school parking lot and glance at Blair, signaling for her to tell her.
Blair is still twisted in her seat looking back at her. “Mr. Herrington and his wife are moving forward with applying for adoption.”
I hear the sharp intake of air and the unmistakable fear in her eyes as I look through the rearview mirror. “What?”
“We aren’t going to let it happen,” I say definitively, “ever.”
“That’s right.” I can see Blair’s smile directed toward Bree from the corner of my eye as I drive back to Blair’s house. Her voice, however, is cautious. “How would you feel about us adopting you instead?”
I don’t want to look at her face, but my own curiosity gets me as I watch her in the mirror. “You guys want to adopt me? Like not just foster me?”
Blair gives a firm nod, portraying the confidence Bree needs which I don’t have. “Yes. It would be official. We’d be your parents according to the l
aw.”
“So, I wouldn’t be in the system anymore?”
“No. Never again.” I meet her eyes in the mirror and am surprised when I see a small smile form on her lips.
But it fades as she looks out the window, her voice quiet, “Why would you guys want to adopt an eleven-year-old?”
Blair looks at me, confusion on her gorgeous face, but I know why Bree’s asking. Growing up, it was pretty much a given that if you weren’t adopted before you were old enough to talk, you were fucked. Adoptive parents all wanted babies. “Why wouldn’t we want not only an eleven-year-old,” Blair looks back at Bree, “but the world’s coolest eleven-year-old?”
Bree smiles and shakes her head. “You’re so lame.”
Blair doesn’t take that as an insult and get pissy, she laughs so easily instead. And I know she really has fallen for the kid. Nothing is going to stop her.
“We want you Bree,” I add as I pull into Blair’s driveway.
I turn around to face Bree as she fidgets with the hem of her t-shirt. “So, if you adopt me, he can’t?”
The way she says “he” makes me sick to my stomach. “He” would be her monster. She doesn’t want to say his name. She doesn’t want him to be real.
Blair winces only slightly, but Bree picks up on it instantly, using her ability to read people. “What?”
I clear my throat and fight the itching, sickening feeling inside me, the urge to use and numb myself from memories that threaten to creep up when I see how afraid she is of her monster. “There will be a hearing since two couples want to adopt you, but we’ll win.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Blair answers with fierce reassurance, “Because we will do everything we can to make sure we do, Bree. Everything. You’ll never have to leave us.”
Bree looks frightened, but she seems to trust in Blair’s words too. At least she wants to, I can see that. “Okay.” Her voice is too meek for her.
“We’re going to make sure we win.” I lock eyes with her, begging her to believe me. “I want this so fucking bad that I've agree to marry her.” I point to Blair, and Bree’s eyes widen.
“Gee thanks, asshole,” Blair says, but she’s smiling. “And I’m going to marry this broody fucker just for you.”
“You guys are getting married?” She actually laughs at that, and the sound is beautiful, hitting me right in the chest.
“Yeah.” I look at Blair. “Tomorrow?”
She nods her head as her eyes meet mine. “Tomorrow. The sooner the better.” She looks back at Bree. “We have to make sure we are the best possible choice on paper.”
“Okay, cool.” Bree opens her door, swinging her backpack over her shoulder and climbs out, closing the door behind her.
“It’s going to be okay, Rhys.” Blair is watching Bree walk up to the house. She has a key and uses it to go inside.
“You sure about this? You’ll be married to me, Blair.”
She lets her head rest against the back of the seat. “I know that.” She turns to look at me, not lifting her head. “I’ll do anything to protect her, even marry someone else and adopt her with him if you won’t.”
A smile tugs at my lips, liking this side of Blair, a side that was always there, I just didn’t let myself analyze it.
“You’re kind of ruining your rep, you know?”
“As the bitch who doesn’t give a fuck?”
I nod, but I try to add a small smile. Her hand starts toward my face, but I fucking flinch away from her, and I hate myself for doing it. She drops her hand and plays it off, grabbing her car door and pushing it open.
“It’s just paperwork, Rhys. It’s not a big deal, we’re already living together.”
I tell myself that’s true as she climbs out and goes inside. I lay my head against the steering wheel and take deep breaths.
In. And. Out.
You can do this.
I stare in the mirror in Blair’s massive master bathroom. I’m still shirtless after my shower, and I look at the hard muscles of my chest and stomach. My arms are flexed tight, showing the sinewy lines carved from hours at the gym, but it all sickens me.
I never feel bulked-up enough. I never feel strong enough.
I grip the marble countertop in front of the sink, trying to tell myself to breathe. That it’s just on paper, but it’s marriage. It’s official. And it’s adoption. I’m going to be Bree’s father if this all works out.
My stomach revolts, and I barely make it to the toilet before spilling the minimal food I managed to choke down at breakfast. “Fuck!”
I sit on the cool tile of the floor and lean back against the wall, waiting for another round when Blair walks in, looking so very fucking Blair. She’s wearing a flesh colored minidress, if it can be called that, that clings to every single curve she has. And she’ll be lucky if she doesn’t break her neck walking up the stairs of the courthouse in those beige high heels. Her full tits are on full display, her hair is down with soft blond waves, and she looks fucking phenomenal. But I feel like shit as I look up at her.
“Jesus Blair, I think I can see your clit from here.”
She rolls her eyes and tugs subconsciously on the skirt that’s not really that short. I’m just being a dick. “Please don’t make me kick you in the balls when you’re already down.”
I flush the toilet and climb up from the floor, pushing past her. “Is that your version of white?” I grab my toothbrush and paste.
She looks down at the dress and shrugs. “It’s nude. More fitting for me, I think. And don’t pretend you don’t think I look hot as fuck.” She does. She always does. Her head nods at my bare chest as I brush my teeth. “You going for the naked look too?”
I shrug my shoulders and spit the toothpaste into the sink. “Maybe.”
“Rhys, just talk to me. I’m about to be your wife.”
I splash cold water on my face, dry it with a towel and then turn around to face her as I lean back against the counter. “You can still get out of it.”
“No fucking way.” She folds her arms over her ample chest. I already knew that was coming. “I never thought I’d get married.”
“Yeah, me fucking either.” She stands inches in front of me, standing tall and confident, dressed up and ready. “But we’re doing this for Bree.”
I nod my head as she goes to the door handle, where the navy button-down shirt she bought for today is hanging. She takes it off the hanger and hands it to me.
“As much as I hate to see you cover up . . .” I take it and shake my head at her as I slide into the sleeves and button the shirt.
“Always so fucking horny.”
She laughs. “Well, I have a fiancé who won’t fuck me.”
She’s joking, but it sends a jolt through me. She’s about to marry a guy who can barely stand to touch her long enough to come during sex. How long can she be happy with that? Who the fuck could be satisfied with a life like that?
“Blair.” Her eyes snap to mine as I finish dressing. “You don’t have to do this. We can find another way.”
“Stop trying to talk me out of this. I want this.”
I swallow, trying to keep it together. “I’m fucked-up. I’ll never be able to give you what you need.”
We can say this is only “on paper” all we want, but I know there are some real feelings there. I know she cares about me, and I fucking hate it. I wish I could make them disappear for her sake. “You’re giving me Bree.”
“But we both know that won’t be enough.”
Her hand ghosts over my face without making any actual contact, and with watery eyes, she lets air escape her lungs softly. “We can do this. And we’ll figure it out. All of it. Right now, we just have to do what we can to get her safe.”
“You’re already a good mom.”
She smiles as she drops her hand to her side, but she looks nervous as she meets my eyes again. “Rhys . . . before we get married, I need to know.”
I nearly gulp and my l
egs threaten to give out. “I’m not doing this today.”
She looks honest-to-God nervous, but also determined, and that shit is scary. “Tell me what happened to you. I can guess, but I need to hear it.”
No. No. No. Not happening.
I can’t do this. I feel like the walls of the bathroom are about to swallow me whole. “No.”
She drops her shoulders, looking down at the floor. But Blair doesn’t stay defeated for long. Her chin lifts, and she looks at me with so much empathy I want to vomit again. She shouldn’t feel for me. “Do you talk about it in meetings?”
“Fuck no.”
“Did you in rehab?”
I walk out of the bathroom into the bedroom, but she follows, and I give up to turn and face her. “No.”
“Well, no fucking wonder you can’t cope, Rhys.”
I lean in close to her, looking into those eyes that tell me how much she fucking cares about me even if she doesn’t want to. “I’m coping fine.”
She scoffs. “Tell me what happened to you at that last foster home. What the hell are you so afraid of?”
“Everything!” I raise my arms in the air as I plead with her not to do this. I drop my arms to my sides, my own shoulders slouching. “Everyone sees me as this tough, strong man. Muscles. Tattoos. Quiet.” I sink down to her bed, sitting on the edge. “But on the inside, I’m quaking with fear all of the time. I’m a scrawny, dirty, hundred-pound kid, shaking and puking at the thought of being touched.”
I look up at her and see she’s walked closer to me, standing before me. “Why? Please just tell me why.”
“No.”
She moves to her knees before me, looking up at me now. “I see you as a strong man, Rhys.” Her hand rests on the bed next to my thigh. “But I’ve always been able to see that little boy inside too.”
I feel bile rising in my throat, hating that kid. “Why are you always trying to help me?”
“You think I don’t have a little girl inside of me? That this badass, bitchy persona isn’t just a front?”
“I know it is.”
She smiles with determination and confidence. “Exactly. You see me, Rhys. And I hate it most of the time, but I also love it too. Somehow you see me, and you make me see me too.”