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Hurt. I feel a lot of that right now.
Hurt and anger. The backs of my closed eyelids are still bright red.
“You jealous?” I open them. “Maybe you see the connection Stevie and I have, and you can’t stand how great she is. Maybe you want to hurt me because you’re hurting. I would know because that’s exactly how I felt. Ever since Amelia showed up at the party, you’ve looked like hell.”
Rhett’s eyebrows snap together. “Do not fucking go there. Amelia is none of your business.”
Ugh, he looks more hurt than angry. I’m doing it again—lashing out at the people I love. I recognize it, and I know how wrong it is. But I’m like a runaway train that can’t stop.
“So why is Stevie any of yours?”
“Because!” He pushes to his feet and holds out his arms. “I’m the only witness to y’all’s story! The real one, not the bullshit you fed our family. I saw it go down in real time. I was your wingman. Do you not remember telling me not to let you fall in love? I’m part of this story, whether you like it or not.”
I straighten and run a hand over my face. I gotta work to make things better, not stir shit up that makes everyone feel worse.
Taking a deep breath, I begin to silently count to a hundred. I wait for my heart rate to slow, which makes the coiling rage in my center loosen ever so slightly.
“You’re right,” I manage. “I’m sorry.”
“You best get your head on straight before tonight, brother. You react this way, and the family’s gonna tear you a new one. You and Stevie. Do better.”
I blow out a breath, taking another beat. “How do you think I should go about this?” I say quietly. “Telling everyone.”
Rhett takes a minute to think. “Honestly? The truth is best. Just come out with it. Only lead with the truth that’s the center of all this—that you love Samuel, and you’d do anything to see him happy. Like pretend to be in love with a smart, gorgeous woman who fucking adores you.”
I soften. “We’re that obvious?”
“Almost too obvious.” He lifts a shoulder. “Could be what made us all suspicious. Love like that—you don’t see it all that often.”
“What do you mean?”
He makes that face again, the one where he pulls his lips to the side. “I’m talking about real love. Your connection with Stevie—it’s kind enough and clear enough to, yeah, maybe make me a little jealous.”
Light peeks through the crack that forms in my torso.
“That’s how the whole Emma thing started, you know,” I say. “Me being jealous of Bel and Beau, and then of Samuel and Emma.”
He nods, getting this faraway look in his eyes. “I get that now, yeah.”
“Can I give you a little advice about Amelia?”
“That’s a joke, right?”
“Number one, no fake dating. Number two, there is life outside of work. And that life is better when you share it with the right person.”
He rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I may have sucked ass last season, but I’m not retiring.”
“Whatever you say. Just a little food for thought.”
“Who the fuck made you the expert in love?”
“Doing it all wrong. Then doing it right. At least I hope I’m doing it right.”
“I hope so too.” He turns and heads for the door.
Ideas for my speech tonight float through my head. This conversation with Rhett hasn’t been easy, but overall, I feel better having spoken to him. I’m not crazy. He sees what Stevie and I have. Kind and clear, he said. It’s not the sexiest description of a relationship, but it does feel right.
What else is there to do at this point except to follow what feels right?
“Thank you,” I say.
He turns back around at the door. “For what?”
“For telling me the truth. And for falling down on your promise not to let me fall for someone. Was that intentional?”
He grins. “Maybe. Or maybe I was just a lazy fuck who was too busy having his own fun to pay attention to you.”
“Right. Cool.” I cross my arms. “Did you also just throw wild accusations at me to make me prove how in love I am with Stevie?”
“Also maybe.”
“Damn, son, you’re smarter than you look.”
He nods, giving me a salute. “You’re welcome. Don’t screw around tonight. Get this shit handled. Then go live out your happy ending.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Stevie
Hank parks in Milly’s gravel driveway and turns off the ignition.
“I’ll make this right.” He meets my gaze. “I promise.”
I grab his hand. “We’ll make this right. No more bullshit about fake dating being your idea. We agreed to do that together, and now we’ll fix the damage we’ve done together too. All right?”
Squeezing my hand, he nods. “All right.”
His hazel eyes are full, and despite my roiling nervousness, I feel a rush of warmth. I guess I’m still getting over the fact that this sweet, vulnerable, handsome man is my boyfriend.
