Chapter 30

Rhett wraps his arms around my waist, sliding his hands into my back pockets to squeeze my ass. He smiles up at me, a real one, not the fake ones he pastes on when people ask how he's feeling.

"Thank you for puttin' this together for me. She would have loved it."

I scan the back deck, taking in the brightly colored mylar balloons, the golden velvet cloth that covers the food table, and best of all, the life-size cardboard cutout of Retta and Clark Gable that I photoshopped to look like they were standing side-by-side.

There are fresh-cut flowers on every table, and the Bluetooth speaker plays Bruce Springsteen's greatest hits.

"My mama sure did love Bruce. The Boss," he recalls fondly. "She always said he could wear a pair of jeans well. I think that meant she liked his ass," he chuckles.

I can't help but laugh with him. Retta was a piece of work.

I tried to copy her recipe for pecan blondies, but when Rhett took a bite and smiled kindly, chewing cautiously as his face pinched, I knew I'd missed the mark. I'm sure the Bitches will devour them since they have nothing better to compare them to.

It's amazing how large our circle has grown—our family, really. In addition to all the many Bitches and their partners, Liza is here, a whole host of Rhett's buddies from base, and even a few of the guys from Serenity House. Brian, from the Tavern, and Rand. The fucker is staring at me. Great, he's making his way over here.

"Thanks for comin'," Rhett says cordially. "It'll feel good when all this is behind me and we can get back up in the air again."

"Making you feel good is my top priority."

He smirks at me as he says it. This motherfucker knows exactly what he's doing. He waits until Rhett walks away before saying what he's really thinking.

"It's a good thing you finally got your head out of your ass. I thought I would actually have to sleep with him to get your attention." He chuckles, having no idea how close he is to serious bodily injury. I have an urge to put him in an urn right beside Retta.

"You purposely fucked with me?" Why?

"Of course. Did you really think I would poach your territory right in front of your nose? Even I'm not that stupid."

"That's debatable," I grunt. "But what was the point?"

His gaze follows Rhett as he poses for a picture with his mama and Clark. "Because he's perfect for you, and I know how much you love to think you always have to do the right thing."

Asshole. He had me figured out all along. "Well, after careful consideration, I realize doing Rhett is the right thing." I smirk and before I walk away to join Rhett, I flick Rand off. The sound of his laughter follows me, and I shake my head. His time will come, and I hope it's messy and humiliating for him.

I hope I get to witness it firsthand, and I'm glad he turned out to be a real friend in the end.

I approach Rhett, West, Brandt, Nash, and Mandy, fixing them with a hard look.

Nash laughs. "Oh, come on. You're not still pissed, are you?"

"You drew dicks all over my clipboard with a hot pink Sharpie . I can't get them off!"

West snort-laughs. "Big, hard, hairy dicks with balls."

Brandt laughs as well, and Mandy covers his mouth. Rhett tries to maintain a straight face, but cracks under pressure. "I told them not to, babe, but they wouldn't listen."

"I'll never ask you jerks for another favor, ever." How hard is it to help out in the gym while your buddy is deployed? Fucking fuckers.

"Did you like that thingy I knitted to attach your pen to your clipboard?" Rhett asks. He's incredibly proud of the simple chain stitch, his first attempt at knitting.

"You mean the pink Hello Kitty pen? I love it. I also find it hard to believe the only yarn you could find was a sparkly purple."

They crack up harder, doubled over and wheezing, and I shake my head. Idiots .

Tex joins our group. "Nice shirt," I tease, trying not to laugh. His red T-shirt says, ‘ Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn .' Why he paired it with blue velvet pants is anybody's guess.

"Thanks, it's one of my favorites. I finally have a place to wear it. Can you take a picture of us?" he asks, sidling up to Loretta. Tex motions for Mandy to stand next to Clark. He pulls a fake mustache from his pocket and sticks it to his upper lip. "Now I look like a proper gentleman," he grins.

"You sure you don't want to stand next to Clark?" I ask. Tex is not only a flirt, but if he wants to look like a gentleman, maybe he wants to stand next to a cardboard one and cop its ass.

"Not at all. Suave and debonair aren't really my type." He eyes Mandy up and down like the big guy is definitely his type. "I prefer more rugged men."

Mandy blushes, but is saved from being laughed at when I prompt, "Say cheese."

"Come on, McCormick," Jax shouts, drawing our attention. He's standing at the buffet table, peeling back the covers on the casserole dishes. "What the fuck is this shit? I thought you said you brought a sausage and noodle casserole."

"I did!" McCormick insists.

"This is hot dogs and ramen! It looks fucking disgusting. Is this mayo?" he asks, bending down to sniff it.

Jax should have known better than to assume McCormick could make a decent casserole. What was he thinking? I recover the dish and point down the table. "There's lasagna and Swedish meatballs over there. Help yourself."

"Riggs saved the day!" he shouts, and everyone cheers.

Stiles butts the line. "I'll eat your meat, McCormick." He digs the serving spoon into the casserole dish and scoops out a heaping portion. My stomach clenches when it makes a wet, squelching sound as it hits his plate. Better him than me.

"Hey, listen up!" Rhett calls, stealing the crowd's focus. "I want to tell you about my mama before we all say a last goodbye to her, together."

I check with him, raising my brows questioningly, but he smiles and nods. He's good. He doesn't need me to back him up. Yet .

He picks up her urn from the table where it rests with honor beside a gorgeous bouquet of daffodils and lavender, her favorites. The urn he chose looks as if he slathered it in glue and dropped it in a vat of glitter and rhinestones.

It's the gaudiest thing I've ever seen. Retta would love it.

"Can you believe they had this in the discount section?" he asks, smiling and showing off his arresting dimples. "I got lucky! Anyway, I want to start by sayin' thank you to each and every one of you for standin' by my side and supporting me these past weeks. I know for a fact I couldn't have done it without all of you. Now, about Loretta Marsh. My mama was cut from designer cloth, if that cloth was made of beaded sequins. She loved shiny pretty things. Used to say the brighter, the better, makes it easier for God to see it from heaven. She was tacky, but she had class. She liked to eat dinner in her robe in front of the TV, but she had manners. She was loud, but she spoke like a lady. She'd rather burn in hell than let a stranger walk away feelin' unwelcome. She was the kind of mama other kids were jealous of, the kind they wished their mamas were like. I don't remember a single year she didn't bake pecan blondies for the church and school bake sales. She donated our best clothes for the rummage sales. Retta Marsh was a class act. She was one of a kind. The Lord will never make another one like her. If you met her once, you'd never forget her. She was always…"

His voice quavers, and my body tenses, waiting to see if he loses it. Liza hurries to his side, squeezing his hand for strength. "It's okay, Marshmallow, go on."

"I miss you, Mama," he sniffles. I can feel his pain, the tide of emotions about to drown him. He's so damn strong. Tender-hearted, but strong. "We didn't have much, but we had each other, and that was more than we needed. My mama was happy with that. She would fantasize that our little farmhouse was the Tara Plantation. She used to tell me that I was the love child of her and Clark Gable and that any day he would knock on our door and come fetch us and sweep her off her feet. She even told me I looked like him, that I had his hair. I hope she's cozied up in his bed right now in heaven, not missin' me at all."

Rhett's moist eyes find me, and his strong shoulders sag under the weight of his sadness. I rush forth and slide my arm around his shoulders, supporting his weight.

"It's hard to believe I only met Loretta only a few weeks ago. Feels like I've known her for years. That's the kind of woman she was, the kind who just makes you feel welcomed and loved and familiar. Rhett's right, she was cut from designer cloth, and she was one of a kind. It's easy to understand why I fell so hard for her son after seeing what kind of woman she was. She'd have loved this party and been so thrilled to see all of you here today to help us celebrate her life. I left a little book on the table there. If you have a memory of Retta, please be kind enough to share it with us and write it down. Retta might be gone with the wind, but she'll never be forgotten. Thanks for coming out."

As soon as I'm done speaking, Rhett buries his face in my shirt, sniffling softly. I can feel the tremor shake his body and I squeeze him tighter. "Love, you, soldier."

"Love you," he mumbles against my chest.

The guys place a large gift box on the table next to the book. I take the urn from him and place it beside the bouquet and the box. "Open it, babe."

"What's this?" Rhett asks, looking over the box curiously.

He lifts the lid and his eyes go wide. "This is what ya'll were workin' on? The super-secret project I wasn't allowed to see?"

Brandt helps him pull it out of the box. "Yup. We all helped."

"Each of us made a square," Mandy adds.

The hand-knit afghan is a colorful hodgepodge of different stitch patterns and types of yarn, yet it all blends together perfectly, a lot like the Bitches.

"Thank you," Rhett says gratefully, wrapping it around his shoulders.

My guy wears his heart on his sleeve, my total opposite. I couldn't love him more.