Page 62 of Catching Sparkles

“You don’t!” I insisted. “I like my job.”

I waited for him to laugh at me, to tell me that frittering around the kitchen and acting cute in front of a camera barely qualified as a job, like I’d been told by other guys. It had been a point of contention in the majority of the very short-lived relationships I’d been in. Mostly because they were either jealous of the attention I received from my followers, or jealous of the money I made doing it. Instead of bitterly ridiculing my choice of career, Rhys only sighed.

“I’m not creative like you, Sparkles. I can’t make things, or entertain people. The only thing I’ve ever been good at is playing football. And I sure as hell can’t do that.”

Sympathy coursed through me at the misery dripping from his words and I shifted a bit so I could wrap my arms around his torso and squeeze him tightly.

“You’ll figure it out. You can find something you won’t hate.”

“It feels like corporate bullshit is the only thing I have the qualifications for that will actually make money. Sure, maybe I could find something I wouldn’t despise, but who knows how much I’d make doing it?”

I wasn’t worried about money. Between the two of us, we’d be fine. He didn’t exactly know yet that our incomes would eventually be combined, but his slow brain was his own problem. And anyway, like I’d already told him before, I didn’t care about being rich. As long as I had him, I’d be happy.

“You don’t have to rush into anything,” I reminded him, nuzzling his chest before pressing a kiss over his heart. “I know you can find something that works for you. In the meantime, we’re all supporting you.”

“Great. I’m almost 30 and I still need my parents and some twink to take care of me because I couldn’t keep a damn job.”

“Some twink?” I repeated, raising my head to flick up an eyebrow at him.

“A very cute twink,” he clarified, backpedaling at the wry look on my face. “A very cute twink who I’m really fond of and that I appreciate very much. And who is very generous to let me sleep over at his apartment and cook me dinner. And have sex with me. A great twink. The best twink.”

Snorting, I gave him a light smack on his firm chest, shaking my head.

“Just think about what I said, okay? You obviously haven’t prioritized your own happiness up to this point. Maybe it’s time for you to do that.”

“Yeah, but imagine what people would say if I turned down an opportunity for a cushy marketing job just to take some low-paying thing that I don’t even know of yet.”

“Who cares what people say?” I asked, furrowing my brows together. “Wouldn’t you rather be happy?”

“Everyone’s going to think I’m a loser,” he argued, and suddenly his voice sounded very small and very unsure. My heart pulsed in my chest, yearning for this complicated, broody person filling me up until it was spilling out of all my pores. How could someone like him, who’d always been so popular and so confident be so insecure now?

“I won’t,” I swore softly, keeping my eyes locked directly on his, the intense shade of blue nearly making me swoon. “I will never, ever think that about you, Rhys. No matter what you decide to do. I’m on your side, no matter what. I promise.”

He stared at me, unblinking, for so long that my pulse skipped and my heart sped up in my chest. Finally, he reached out and yanked me against him, crushing his mouth to mine and kissing me until I thought I’d suffocate.

WEEKS PASSED IN a blur, a sparkly and swoony whirlwind that felt like I was living a fantasy life. Rhys and I had been spending more time together than ever, our lives clicking together seamlessly.

Things weren’t perfect. He’d been talking to his lawyer a lot about some of Hailey’s demands, and he’d been feeling more and more restless about the job situation. He didn’t have much money saved, and most of his possessions were still tied up in the court proceedings. But he’d started going out more, hanging around with the guy that he’d reconnected with on his date with Brie, which I thought was a good sign. Socially integrating back into polite society could only be a good thing.

I pulled my car up to a friend’s house, as far up the driveway and as close to the door as I possibly could, so Josie wouldn’t have far to walk. She’d told me over and over that she wasn’t disabled and didn’t need to be coddled, but… I couldn’t help but feel overprotective. We still had a few months to go, but she looked kind of huge. Like a bubble that could be easily popped with one tiny pinprick.

As she waddled up to the door, I carefully hoisted the covered dish of blueberry cobbler I’d made that morning out of the backseat and walked it up.

“Yes!” Megan greeted us excitedly as she let us in. She’d been in the drama club alongside us for all four years of high school, and now her husband was a teacher at that same school. “You’re a lifesaver!” She grabbed the dish out of my hands to hurry it over to her kitchen counter.

She’d asked (begged) me to bring something over that she could serve and pass off as her own, since her ultra critical mother-in-law was coming to dinner and always seemed to find something to complain about.

“Yeah, just stick it in the oven for, like, five minutes to warm it up before you serve it,” I advised as Josie and I settled onto chairs at the dining room table.

“Will do,” she promised, before snatching open a drawer and pulling out one of those big three-wick candles in a deep blue color. The picture on the label was of a fat slice of blueberry pie. “My secret weapon,” she said, before letting out a maniacal laugh reminiscent of a cartoon villain.

“Sneaky,” Josie commented, grinning. Megan scoffed at the response.

“You wouldn’t get it! You’re totally blessed in the mother-in-law department.”

“Rebecca is pretty great,” she admitted, propping her elbow on the table before resting her chin on her hand. “I know I’m lucky.”

“Every freaking time she comes over here, she finds something wrong. Last time, she implied I was starving her son because I had the audacity to serve a salad with dinner. Tony doesn’t like salad,” she simpered, in a snobby imitation. “The man was surviving on hot dogs and instant ramen before we started dating. Excuse me for wanting the father of my future children to live past 50.”