A month had slipped by with surprising speed, the days blurring into a rhythm of work and quiet evenings. Rhys, despite the company's caution, maintained a steady stream of communication with Heather, their conversations a lifeline in the sea of forced separation. Text messages and brief phone calls became their shared language, a way to bridge the distance that had been imposed upon them. Heather, in turn, settled into a routine of domesticity, her days filled with the delightful chaos of caring for baby Dave, her laughter echoing through the house, a comforting melody against the backdrop of her aunt and uncle's workday.
Saturday arrived, a welcome respite from the week's demands. Tony and Marjorie, seizing the opportunity for family time, dedicated the day to baby Dave, their attention lavished on his every giggle and gurgle. Upstairs, a different kind of camaraderie unfolded, as Rhys and Heather engaged in a spirited card game, their laughter punctuated by playful banter, the air thick with friendly competition.
The tranquility of their afternoon was interrupted by the insistent chime of the doorbell. Marjorie, her brow furrowed in mild curiosity, answered the door, her eyes widening slightly as she recognized the visitor. "Honey... We have a visitor," she called out, her voice laced with a hint of surprise.
"Who is it?" Tony asked, lifting baby Dave from his playmat, his eyes filled with paternal affection.
"He said he's here for Heather," Marjorie replied, her gaze lingering on the man standing in the doorway. As she entered the living room, Tony followed, baby Dave cradled in his arms.
Tony's eyes met Chris's, a flicker of recognition passing between them. "Good afternoon, Sir," Chris greeted, his voice polite and respectful.
"Good afternoon," Tony replied, gently placing baby Dave back in his crib, his eyes filled with a quiet observation. "Chris, right?"
"Yes, Sir," Chris confirmed, extending his hand for a handshake, his demeanor composed and courteous.
"Please, sit," Marjorie offered, placing a glass of water on the coffee table, her movements graceful and welcoming. She then settled onto the couch opposite Chris, her posture relaxed but attentive.
"Thank you," Chris said, accepting the glass and taking a long sip, his eyes scanning the room.
A moment of awkward silence settled over them, the unspoken question hanging in the air. Marjorie, her patience wearing thin, finally broke the silence. "You mentioned you're here for Heather?" she prompted, her voice gentle but firm.
"Yes," Chris replied, his gaze shifting to meet hers, his expression serious. He took another sip of water, his hesitation palpable.
Before Chris could elaborate, a flurry of movement and a burst of laughter echoed through the house. "Slow down or I'll fall!!" Heather's voice rang out, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps on the stairs. Rhys, carrying Heather piggyback, descended the stairs with playful abandon, their faces flushed with laughter, their eyes sparkling with joy.
They entered the living room, their carefree demeanor abruptly halted by the sight of the three adults staring at them. A moment of stunned silence descended, the playful energy dissipating into awkwardness. "Uhm... Put me down," Heather whispered, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink.
Rhys, his eyes widening slightly, reluctantly complied, his gaze lingering on Chris, a flicker of unease crossing his face. He wanted to turn around and retreat upstairs, but Heather's gentle tug on his hair anchored him to the spot. "I said put me down," she hissed, her voice laced with playful annoyance.
"Hold on," Rhys murmured, squatting to let her slide off his back.
As Heather straightened her clothes and smoothed her hair, Chris spoke, his voice clear and confident. "I'm here because I want to court Heather. As her guardians, I wanted to get your permission..." His gaze remained fixed on Heather, his expression earnest.
The room fell silent, the air thick with surprise. Rhys clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white, a surge of possessiveness coursing through him. Heather's eyes widened in confusion, her mind struggling to process the unexpected declaration. Tony and Marjorie exchanged surprised glances, their expressions a mix of astonishment and curiosity.
"Why? We only met a month ago. We barely even spoke to each other," Heather stammered, her voice laced with disbelief.
"Yes, I know we only met a month ago. We barely spoke with each other in those three days at the resort, but I can't get you out of my head since," Chris confessed, his voice sincere. He paused, gathering his thoughts. "You said then that you're not in a relationship." He glanced at Rhys, a subtle challenge in his eyes. "And I wanted to take this chance. Unless, you're already together now?"
"No. We're not," Heather replied, her voice firm, but a hint of uncertainty lingered in her eyes.
Rhys stepped closer to Heather, his voice a low murmur, his breath warm against her ear. "Are you sure you want to be with this guy?" he whispered, his eyes searching hers.
"I don't know," she mumbled, her gaze darting between Rhys and Chris. "We'll see..."
"We'll go to our room so you young people can talk," Tony announced, gently pulling Marjorie towards the door, his eyes filled with a knowing amusement.
Rhys remained rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed on Chris, his posture tense. He sat on the couch beside Heather, his arm casually draping behind her, a subtle display of territoriality. "So..." he began, his voice laced with a hint of challenge. "You want to court Heather. Why?"
Heather gently nudged Rhys with her elbow, whispering, "Behave."
"Like I mentioned earlier, I can't stop thinking about her since I met her at the resort," Chris reiterated, his smile confident, his gaze unwavering.
"Really now," Rhys muttered, his voice laced with skepticism.
"Yes," Chris affirmed, turning his attention to Heather. "Will you allow me to court you, Heather?"
Heather's gaze shifted between Chris and Rhys, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. "Uhm..." she began, her voice hesitant. She paused, gathering her thoughts. "To be honest, this is a little sudden."
Chris nodded, his expression understanding. "I understand. Then, how about we try going out on a few dates while you're staying here? And if you do leave so you could continue your studies, we can be in a long-distance relationship. I can visit you whenever I'm free," he proposed, his smile warm and inviting.
Heather considered his suggestion, her brow furrowed in thought. "I'll need more time to think about it. Is that okay?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of uncertainty.
"Yeah. Yeah. No problem. You can take all the time you need," Chris assured her, his smile widening. He stood up, his movements fluid and confident. "I'll wait for the good news," he said, winking at her.
"Leaving already?" Rhys asked, his voice laced with a hint of sarcasm.
"Yeah, I still have a magazine photoshoot. Don't want to be late," Chris replied, his tone casual.
"Cool. I'll show you out," Rhys offered, rising to his feet and leading Chris towards the front door.
After seeing Chris off, Rhys returned to the living room, his gaze fixed on Heather, his expression unreadable. "So... Are you going to see him?" he asked, his voice low and intense. "You'll be his girlfriend?"
Heather sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. She closed her eyes, leaning back against the couch, her mind filled with a confusing mix of emotions. "I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. She opened her eyes, meeting Rhys's gaze. He was staring at the glass on the coffee table, his expression thoughtful.
"You can go out with him on a few dates. If you really like him, then be with him," he said after a long pause, his voice laced with a forced nonchalance.
Heather reached out, gently touching his leg, her eyes searching his. "Should I?" she asked, her voice filled with a quiet desperation.
Rhys finally met her gaze, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Yeah. Why not?" he replied, his voice laced with a hint of resignation.
"Why not?" Rhys echoed, but the question hung in the air, a subtle tension weaving between them. Heather's touch lingered on his leg, a silent plea for reassurance, for something more than a casual dismissal.
"You really think I should?" she pressed, her voice barely a whisper, her eyes searching his for a flicker of something, anything, that would betray his true feelings.
Rhys shifted slightly, his gaze dropping to the glass on the coffee table again, his fingers tracing the rim. "It's your decision, Heather," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "You're the one who has to decide what you want."
"But what do you think?" she persisted, her voice laced with a hint of frustration. "You're my friend. You know me. Don't just give me some vague, 'it's your choice' answer."
He finally looked up, his eyes meeting hers, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. "I think," he began slowly, his voice low, "that you should do whatever makes you happy."
"Happy?" she echoed, her brow furrowed. "What if I don't know what makes me happy?"
A sigh escaped Rhys's lips. He knew he was being deliberately vague, pushing her away, but he couldn't bring himself to say what he truly felt. "Then you need to figure it out," he said, his voice firm, but tinged with a hint of sadness. "Go on dates with Chris, see how you feel. It's not like you have to decide right away."
"But what if I... what if I mess it up?" she asked, her voice laced with anxiety. "What if I choose wrong?"
"There's no such thing as choosing wrong," Rhys said, his voice softening. "Every choice you make teaches you something. And if you realize you made a mistake, you can always change your mind."
"That's easy for you to say," Heather mumbled, her gaze dropping to her hands, her fingers twisting nervously. "You always seem so sure of yourself."
"I'm not always sure," Rhys admitted, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I just try not to let anyone see when I'm not."
A moment of silence settled between them, the unspoken emotions hanging heavy in the air. Heather's gaze lingered on Rhys, her eyes searching his for a clue, a hint of his true feelings.
"So, you really think I should go on dates with him?" she asked again, her voice laced with a hint of disbelief.
Rhys nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering. "If you want to," he said, his voice low. "It's your decision."
"And you won't... you won't be mad?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
"Mad?" Rhys echoed, a hint of surprise in his voice. "Why would I be mad?"
Heather shrugged, her gaze dropping to her hands again. "I don't know," she mumbled. "Just... because."
"Because of what?" Rhys asked, his voice laced with gentle curiosity.
Heather hesitated, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink. "Because... because we're friends," she finally managed to say, her voice barely a whisper.
"Of course we're friends," Rhys said, his voice warm and reassuring. "And friends don't get mad at each other for going on dates."
"But..." Heather began, her voice trailing off.
"But what?" Rhys prompted, his eyes searching hers.
"Nothing," she mumbled, shaking her head slightly. "Never mind."