The Defiant Wife (The Three Mrs #2) - Jess Michaels Page 0,76
exists no matter what, doesn’t it?”
Rhys snorted out a humorless laugh. “Oh, it does. I am reminded any time I go into public or encounter a person I thought was a friend who now shuns me.”
“And it will last for some time,” Owen pressed. “Months. Years, even.”
Rhys glared at him. “Yes, thank you so much for pointing that out. I’m very glad we talked, I feel so much better.”
Owen chuckled at the dry tone. “I admit that didn’t sound right. It wasn’t an attempt to rub your nose in the facts. I only meant that this is happening. And because of the way Society works, there isn’t much that can change it.”
“I suppose not. It must play out however it does, for however long those in charge decide to deny me,” Rhys said. “Not that the clarification was much better, Mr. Gregory.”
“Bear with me,” Owen said, raising his hands in what seemed like surrender. “I’m doing an exceedingly poor job making what I think is a good point. Answer me this: do you want to spend the next months, years, perhaps even the rest of your life, carrying this scandal on your back alone? Or would you like to do alongside a partner? A friend? The love of your life?”
Rhys stared at him. Suddenly it was like he had been punched in the chest or dragged under the water. The room seemed to fade. Owen sounded far away, and everything began to spin.
“You are miserable, correct?” Owen asked through the fog.
“Yes,” Rhys choked out.
“I can attest that I would rather be miserable and have Celeste by my side than be what I used to call happy without her.” Owen smiled slightly. “She makes it better.”
“What? What does she make better?”
Rhys knew the answer. He knew it even before Owen said, “Everything.”
Rhys shook his head. “Phillipa…she would never relent, even if I did.”
“Because she can’t take the trouble?” Owen asked.
Rhys fought a sudden desire to punch Owen in the nose. He thought that was the desired effect, in truth. Owen wanted him to defend Phillipa. “Of course not. She wants to…to protect me.”
“Even better. You clearly wish to protect her, as well. But it’s all the more powerful if you choose to protect each other.”
Rhys got to his feet and shook his head. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It is easy!” Owen insisted.
“Because you and Celeste didn’t have as many barriers to your happiness.”
Owen shrugged. “Different barriers, not no barriers. But perhaps that isn’t your true hesitation. Perhaps you don’t want to be with her as much as the rest of us have guessed.”
Rhys glared at him. “Of course I do. I have been in love with her for weeks and weeks. Thoughts of her torment me all day, haunt me all night. I can taste her on my tongue even though it’s been days since I kissed her. I can hear her in my ear with such clarity that I sometimes turn and hope she’ll be there. She is the only person I wish to talk to about all these difficulties I am facing. The only person I want to talk to about the joys, as well. The only person I want to see every day of my life until the last.”
Owen drew back a fraction at the intensity of the confession. Rhys could hardly blame him, but once he started, it had been virtually impossible to stop.
“And yet…” Owen got up and cocked his head, almost in question. “…you stand here in your parlor with me.”
Rhys huffed out a breath. “What would you have me do? Go to her house and refuse to leave until Phillipa hears me declare my love for her? Until she agrees to be mine, no matter the obstacles we have yet to face?”
He heard the words and stopped, staring at Owen as the true reality of the situation hit him in the chest. Took his air. Made his hands begin to shake. “That is…that’s exactly what I have to do, isn’t it? I have to do that now.”
Owen smiled. “I would highly recommend it.”
Terror struck Rhys at the thought, but it was a beautiful fear. The fear of perhaps getting what one wanted, of losing it, of taking a gamble that could bring either outcome. Yes, it would be difficult. And she might say no at first, determined to save him from himself.
But that didn’t mean he shouldn’t risk it. He smoothed his jacket and looked down at himself, then turned to glance around