Quiet Longing (Quiet Love #2)

26.

Charli

I was wedged between my aunt and uncle as we entered the bustling restaurant.

My eyes instinctively scanned the room for Rhys, but I couldn’t see him. Lots of glamorous, well-dressed people mingled, sipping glasses of wine and Prosecco and nibbling hors d’oeuvres.

As far as I could make out, Aidan’s restaurant served some variety of contemporary cuisine with an Irish flair. The man himself stood close to the stylish bar area. He wore a fitted, pale grey suit and was surrounded by a few members of the press who were there to review the opening. He’d changed since he was a teenager, presently sporting a trim beard and a full head of auburn hair with a hint of grey at the temples. Aidan looked like a man who’d seen the world, with a certain wisdom in his eyes that hadn’t been there once upon a time.

A server led a group past us to be seated at a large table, and I felt a tinge of pressure in my chest being surrounded by so many people. That pressure built into an anxious pounding in my skull as I hastily turned to my aunt, “I’m just going to find the restroom.”

“Of course,” she replied, and I quickly went, struggling to breathe.

It was only when I shut myself inside a stall and slid over the lock that my head cleared and my pulse finally started to slow. Ironic that I felt more claustrophobic out there than I did locked away in a tiny bathroom stall. But in the stall, I was alone. No one could harm me within the protective confines of its walls.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been sitting on the closed toilet seat with my eyes shut, taking deep breaths, when my phone vibrated in my purse, startling me.

Rhys: Just arrived. You here yet?

Seeing his text made me relax a little. I hadn’t been exaggerating when I’d told him he was my security blanket. There was just something about Rhys that always managed to soothe me. It was like I could absorb his calm confidence.

Me: Yes. I’m in the restroom.

Rhys: Everything okay?

I considered telling him I was having a minor meltdown but decided against it. I’d already revealed far more to Rhys than I ever intended. When he looked into my eyes in that probing, concerned way he had, it was almost impossible not to spill my guts, which was how he currently knew some of the details about my marriage. I still bristled remembering all I’d told him, feeling exposed, but I reminded myself I could be open with Rhys. I doubted there was much I could ever reveal to him that would make him judge me. It wasn’t in his nature.

Me: I’m fine. I’ll just be a minute.

Finally emerging from the stall, I washed my hands then made for the exit. Rhys stood outside, his back to the wall as he looked down at his phone. I paused in the doorway, admiring the way his dark brows lined his forehead, how the black shirt he wore brought out the blue of his eyes. He was sexy—handsome in a way that was detrimental to my emotional state. I imagined throwing caution to the wind—paying no heed to how we’d both just emerged from long-term relationships—and simply losing myself in him. I’d wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him until his taste chased away my nightmares.

At least then I could experience a little happiness even if only temporary.

Stepping out, my heels clicked on the tile floor, and Rhys’ gaze flicked up. Running my hands over my dark blue dress, I moved towards him, heart pounding for a different reason entirely.

The dress was a couple years old, but I’d never actually worn it out. I’d bought it thinking I looked good in it, but then when I’d tried wearing it to one of Jesse’s work functions, he’d immediately told me to find something else. He said it was far too low cut to be deemed appropriate in front of his colleagues from the law practice. Instead, I’d grabbed one of the many conservative dresses he’d preferred and worn that.

I was never going back to that place, would never allow another person to dictate what I could and couldn’t wear. Tonight and every night going forward, I’d wear what I wanted to. The dress signified that choice, and wearing it gave me back my power. It felt liberating.

“Charli,” Rhys said, eyes scanning me as he shoved his phone in his pocket and ran a hand down his face, his mouth opening a little. “Fucking hell.”

I chuckled at his reaction. “Is that a good fucking hell or a bad one?”

“It’s a good one. A very good one. You look incredible.”

A deep flush of pleasure settled over me at his compliment. I’d been fretting about wearing the dress, but his reaction made all my doubt slip away. It showed a hint of cleavage, but it wasn’t the slutty, revealing number Jesse had made it out to be. No, the dress was classy and perfect, and I was reclaiming it, Goddammit.

“Thank you. You look great, too. I like the suit.”

Rhys smiled, his features softening as he blew out a breath. “So, hiding in the bathroom, eh?”

Crap, he knew me too well. “Just a little blip. I’m fine now.”

“Good, because they’re about to start taking orders, and I’ve been looking forward to this food all week.”

“It’s that good?”

“Aidan might be a cocky son of a bitch, but he knows his food. He’s like a kingmaker when it comes to finding great, undiscovered chefs and putting them in his restaurants.”

Rhys offered me his arm, and I gladly took it. “Well, that sounds promising.”

As we stepped back out into the restaurant, I didn’t feel half as anxious as I did when I’d first arrived. I wasn’t sure if it was down to being arm in arm with Rhys or because of the approving warmth in his eyes when he saw my outfit, but it gave me the boost of confidence I desperately needed.

Rhys led me to a table where my aunt and uncle were sitting with Derek and Tristan, plus a third guy I almost didn’t recognise at first. “Oh my goodness, Theo,” I exclaimed as I stepped forward to give him a hug.

“I wasn’t sure you’d remember me,” he said with a soft chuckle as I released him.

“Of course, I remember you. I’ve been told you’re some bigshot superintendent now.”

“That’s right though I wouldn’t describe it as bigshot,” he said with a hint of self-deprecation.

“Well, it’s great to see you,” I said, still aware of Rhys at my back.

“You, too. You look well, Charli. The years have been kind.”

“Oh,” I breathed, tucking some hair behind my ear. “Thank you.”

“Let’s sit.” Rhys’ tone was gruff as he lightly pressed his hand to my lower back and guided me to a seat. The warmth of his palm left me when he pulled out my chair just as Aidan appeared. His gaze landed on me, and a wide, dashing smile claimed his entire face. “Well, isn’t this a blast from the past. Hello, Miss Moretti.”

“Aidan, how are you? Thanks so much for letting me tag along tonight.”

“Of course. When I heard you were back, I insisted,” he replied smoothly as he leaned forward to clasp my shoulder before kissing my cheek. The faint scruff of his beard touched my chin. He was even better looking than he had been before, yet he still didn’t give me the same butterflies and awareness Rhys made me feel just by existing in my presence.

One of the servers hustled to Aidan’s side, needing his attention, and he shot us all an apologetic smile. “I’m needed in the kitchen, I’m afraid, but enjoy the food. I’ll be back to get your reviews later.” He winked, and then he was gone. I became aware of Rhys’ eyes on my profile and looked his way. He seemed to notice the tension around my lips because his expression was questioning. All this peopling was a lot for me, but I was strangely starting to enjoy myself.

“I’m okay,” I whispered as the others chatted around us.

“If you need a breather, just say the word, and I’ll get you out of here.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, and a pretty redhead stepped forward to take our orders.

Once the food started arriving, I relaxed a little bit more, letting the jovial, high spirited atmosphere wash over me. I was on my second glass of Prosecco when the dessert came out, a simple but delicious crème br?lée.

“This is so good,” I practically moaned as my spoon cracked into the hardened caramelised top, and Rhys’ eyes flicked to me, lowering to my mouth for a second and holding. My face grew hot, and when he finally looked away, I had to resist the urge to fan myself. What was it about the way he looked at me sometimes? He made me feel exhilaratingly alive, but also like I was sinking into a familiar, comforting embrace.

“Nuala, you came!” Tristan said, and I turned to see my cousin walk into the restaurant holding hands with a cute thirty-something guy with brown hair and glasses.

“Yeah, the show we were seeing ended early, so I decided we could squeeze in dessert,” Nuala replied, glancing at my crème br?lée like she might try to steal a spoonful. I quickly covered the ramekin with my hand, scowling playfully. “Don’t even think about it.”

She laughed before proceeding to introduce Martin to everyone. He seemed like a super nice guy, which was a relief because Nuala deserved only the best. I did notice Theo was a little stiff and reserved when he shook Martin’s hand and remembered the crush he’d had on Nuala back in the day. I didn’t imagine he still had feelings for her, though. I mean, it had been years, so surely he would’ve made a move if he’d really liked her. And Nuala would’ve mentioned it to me if something had ever happened between them.

Derek went to grab some extra chairs for Nuala and Martin, and we all began shuffling around to make space for them at the table. It was as we were shifting our seats that Rhys knocked his drink over, and it spilled down the front of his shirt.

“Ah, shite,” he swore in annoyance at himself, and I instantly panicked. I couldn’t explain the reaction, but suddenly, I was jumping up out of my seat, apologising, and grabbing spare napkins from the table to dry his shirt.

“I’m so sorry,” I muttered, my hands shaking as I pressed the napkins into the spill. My lips quivered, and I had this feeling of impending doom I couldn’t explain before Rhys’ large, warm hand settled over mine.

“Charli, this isn’t your fault. I was the one who spilled the drink,” he said, his voice quiet and firm but also a little confused.

“Right, yes, I know, I just thought—”

My words fell off as my cheeks heated and flushed with embarrassment, my eyes downcast because I was too ashamed to look around and see if anyone else noticed my overreaction. What the hell was wrong with me? I was acting terrified, and the feeling was as familiar as an old pair of well-worn shoes.

So many times, Jesse had fucked up, and somehow, I’d been to blame. Like when he’d spilled coffee on the documents for a case he was working on, it had been my fault for being the one who was talking while it happened. Or when he’d turned a bunch of white shirts dull grey by letting a pair of black socks fall into the wash. That had been my fault, too, because I should’ve had the forethought to go through everything and separate the colours. No matter what had happened, it had always been my fault. This was clearly the reason for my response to Rhys spilling his drink, but it didn’t make it any less mortifying. Nor did it lessen the adrenaline that was coursing through me.

“Charli?” Rhys’ eyes were wide and full of concern as I backed away.

“I’m j-just going to see if they have anything better to clean up with in the back. Those napkins aren’t very absorbent.” My hands still shook as I left the table.

“Wait,” Rhys called, but I was already gone.

My pulse thrummed in my ears as I hurried to the back of the restaurant, finding a quiet corner near the bathrooms. Someone had left a window open, and a pleasantly cool breeze filtered in. It didn’t take away how pissed off I was with myself. Was this how I was always going to react to stressful situations that weren’t even my fault? I’d thought I’d been making progress, but it felt like no matter how much time passed or how far away I got from him, Jesse’s mark on me would always linger. I’d forever be a shaking, anxious mess whenever something happened to trigger a memory or a certain response.

I slid down the wall until I was hunched on the floor, tears spilling down my cheeks as I wept. I was too caught up in the shame spiral to worry about anyone finding me crying my eyes out. I’d had a shaky start to the evening when I hid in the restroom, but things had gotten better. I thought I was doing well, socialising, being around lots of other people. Yet here I was, completely broken.

I would always be broken.

“Charli.”

Suddenly, I was being scooped up into strong, solid arms and carried away from the spot on the floor. I buried my face in Rhys’ chest, absorbing his familiar scent tinged with the whiskey he’d spilled on himself. It was only when someone else spoke I realised we weren’t alone.

“Take her in here,” Aidan said, and more embarrassment crept in. It was one thing having Rhys witness my meltdown, but Aidan was one person too many. “I’ll make sure no one bothers you.”

“Thanks, Aidan,” Rhys replied, his words rough, and Aidan left, the door clicking shut behind him.

Rhys lowered me down onto a two-seat leather couch in the small office, then went to grab some tissues from a box on Aidan’s desk. He approached the couch, sitting down next to me as he quietly dabbed away my tears.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice scratchy and dry from crying.

Rhys’ jaw flickered. “If you say sorry one more fucking time, Charli, I swear to—” His angry words fell off when he saw me tense then swore under his breath, his voice gentling to barely a whisper, “I’m an idiot. I’m the one who should be saying sorry.”

I caught his hand, wrapping my fingers around his while he still held the tissue up to my cheek. “It’s okay. I’m just incredibly … skittish.”

His shoulders slumped as he exhaled, eyes latching onto mine. They flickered back and forth as though trying to read between the lines. “The way you looked at me out there. It was like you thought I was going to lash out or something. Like I was going to blame you for my clumsiness.” His eyes were still on mine, delving deep. I saw it the moment realisation dawned, and if I wasn’t already sitting, my legs might’ve gone out from under me. Because Rhys had just figured out the truth. It was plain as day in his eyes.

Again, his jaw flickered and tensed, his other hand coming up to gently tuck some hair behind my ear as he softly pressed his forehead to mine, and my breath caught. I felt his eyelashes flutter against my face when he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “I’m going to fucking kill him,” he seethed, and I’d never heard such quiet, lethal fury. Not even when Jesse had been at his most vicious. This was different. Rhys’ anger wasn’t directed at me. It was directed at the person who’d caused me so much irreversible harm.

Suddenly, panic gripped me. I didn’t want Rhys seeking revenge on my behalf. I just wanted to be happy that what had happened was finally over, and I could live my life and make the most of whatever contentment I might be able to scrounge together in the aftermath.

I needed to fix this. I needed to reverse whatever conclusion Rhys had come to in his head, convince him he was wrong.

“Rhys, this isn’t what you t-think,” I said as I shifted away from him slightly.

His hand—oh so gentle—moved from my ear to whisper along my jaw as he tilted his head. A universe of sadness and regret filled his eyes, almost eclipsing the fury. “If it isn’t, then how come I recognise the look in your eyes so well, Charli? How come I see the terror I saw so many times in my own when I looked in the mirror? In my mother’s when she was scrambling across the kitchen floor trying to get away from him?”

More tears sprang forth. Rhys continued wiping them away, his focus on me laser sharp

“I’m going to make that motherfucker rue the day he ever raised a finger to you.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” I argued weakly.

“Yes, it does. It does when someone hurt you, Charli, and I wasn’t fucking there to stop him.” His words were laced with self-recrimination and regret.

I reached for him then, my fingers sliding across the back of his neck and sifting into his hair. A faint shudder went through him at my touch. “You don’t know what happened, and it isn’t your fault.”

“I might not know specifics, but I can piece it together well enough based on your behaviour. I spent nineteen years watching my own mother behave the exact same way. And I know it’s not my fault. That doesn’t mean I don’t have every intention of evening out the score.”

I blinked back another tear. “What does that even mean?”

“It doesn’t matter what it means. All you have to know is that no one will ever lay their hands on you again so long as I live.”

I was dumbfounded, unable to comprehend how much he seemed to care. I wasn’t his to worry about, yet he spoke like our fates were intertwined. It didn’t make sense.

Amid my confusion, a strange mix of relief and sadness filled me. Relief because having someone like Rhys declare I was under his protection felt like I could finally let my guard down and breathe even though it wasn’t his responsibility to keep me safe. And sadness because I saw the cogs turning in his brain, somehow making what happened to me his fault. He couldn’t protect his mother for so many years, and he hadn’t been able to protect me either.

I was suddenly aware of the way we were sitting. I’d shifted closer to him, was practically in his lap. “You’re a good man,” I whispered to him, my eyes tracing his handsome features as my fingers continuing sifting through his hair. His gaze grew hooded like he enjoyed my touch. Like it chased away some of the anger he felt. “But my trauma isn’t your responsibility to fix.”

“I’ll decide what is and isn’t my responsibility, Charli. And you wouldn’t think I was such a good man if you knew some of the thoughts I’ve had about you,” he replied roughly, and my pulse picked up for a different reason. Being alone in a room with Rhys was like swallowing the antidote to all my worries and fears. His presence seeped into my bloodstream like medicine.

I lifted my eyebrows. “Thoughts?”

His eyes dipped to my mouth then back up. “Best kept in my head where they belong.”

“I might like to hear them,” I ventured, my tongue briefly snaking out to wet my lower lip.

His look was regretful, a little devastated as he caressed my cheek. “Not tonight. Not when you’re so upset.”

What he said made me remember how we’d ended up in Aidan’s office, me crying out in the hallway, curled up in a ball. A hint of embarrassment tried to creep back in, but I refused to let it. I was sitting pressed up against Rhys, and it was a ridiculously good feeling. His warmth and the way he looked at me like I was something precious to hold dear.

“See?” I said. “You are a good man even if you might have secret thoughts about me you’re not prepared to share.” I poked him lightly in the chest.

“I love it when you tease me,” he said in a fond, husky voice, caressing my cheek again. A shiver swept its shadowy tendrils across the back of my neck.

A new feeling fell upon me, one that fizzled in a pleasantly buzzy, fluttery sensation beneath my skin. I hadn’t been close to a man, nor so attracted to one, in a long, long time. Jesse and I had stopped having sex years ago, which was a relief in a way. It had been its own sort of horror story to have to be intimate with the man who abused you. I’d suspected he was having sex with other women to satiate that need, but I’d never discovered real proof. I hadn’t cared, though. Selfishly, I was happy to be left alone in that regard. But still, no one had touched me, kissed me, or caressed me in a loving manner in so very long, and a part of me yearned for it. If only so Jesse wasn’t the last man to have done it.

“Rhys,” I said, a tremor in my voice as I asked, “Will you kiss me?”

A gruff breath left him at the request, his gaze lasering into me.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” I rambled on. “I just haven’t been kissed in a really long time, and I’d like to know if—”

Before I could finish the sentence, his hands cupped my face as his lips crashed down on mine.