Chapter Twenty
“Hello, darling,” Rusty said as he heard Blake’s footsteps coming into the kitchen. “I was starting to think you’d died.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Blake stretching and yawning widely. “What time is it?” he asked, scratching his newly-exposed stomach where his t-shirt had ridden up.
“Little after eleven. Day’s getting on,” Rusty said, piping another perfect swirl of custard filling into a tart case.
He’d been given this job by Blake’s mother, and he was determined to do it right.
“What’re you doing?” Blake asked, yawning again.
“Custard tarts. Your mum showed me how, and I want to make her proud. Also, she’s my mum now. I’m claiming her,” Rusty said, holding his tongue between his teeth as he concentrated on the next tart.
“She’d love to hear that,” Blake said. “You’re already her favorite kid. Smart, successful, easy on the eyes…”
Rusty grinned at that. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“I mostly want to go hide at Jude’s,” Blake said. “Why are you still helping with the wedding?” he asked.
“Because I promised you I’d come here and be the perfect husband,” Rusty said. “That’s the deal, and so… I’m helping. Pitching in. Being part of the family. Not for Megan. For you.”
Rusty glanced over at Blake, seeing his eyes widen and his jaw drop.
He was glad he wasn’t as prone to blushing as Blake was, because his face would have been bright red by now. He did want to help Blake. He wanted to make Blake happy, and he wasenjoyingbeing the perfect husband.
Rusty had no idea what that meant, but he knew it all felt like it was about to end too soon.
“I care about you,” he added, not sure if that was too honest. It was way too late to try to get into Blake’s good books.
The best he could hope for was to leave him with some more good memories.
To Rusty’s horror, Megan chose that moment to come around the corner.
Before he could say anything, she turned to Blake. “I’m sorry.”
Rusty could hardly believe it. Not only had she said sorry, unprompted, but it sounded sincere. It definitely wasn’t something she was saying just because she thought she had to. There was feeling in it.
“For yelling at you earlier and accusing you of faking,” she said. “Your husband’s right. I know better, and that wasn’t fair. I’m stressed about the wedding, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
It wasn’t the best apology Rusty had ever heard, but it was a start.
“Have a custard tart,” Rusty said, pushing one across the bench to her. “Keep your blood sugar up.”
He didn’t want to interfere too much here, but Blake obviously needed a moment to process, so he was giving him one.
Megan took the tart, taking a dainty bite out of it and making a happy sound.
“These are good. Did you make these?” she asked.
Rusty shook his head. “I’m just on piping duty. They’re your mum’s work.”
“Huh.” Megan licked her lips. “Everyone’s going to a lot of effort for me, huh?”
“Yep,” Rusty said, focusing on his tarts again.
Blake took a deep breath, and then let it out slowly. “Apology accepted,” he said. “Friends?”
“Friends,” Megan agreed. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
