Page 40 of Tides Of Your Love (Riviera Shores #3)

Rio

THE FIRST THING I SAW after blinking against the sun filtering into my room and silencing my alarm, was a photo of Owen at a club. I squinted at it, reading the smaller print beneath the bold headline:

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OWEN WHEATON IS BACK!

Training and Partying with Westbridge Players – #7 Is On the Scene

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In clothes I’d once peeled off him, he smiled at the camera, surrounded by familiar faces—familiar from the few matches I’d watched or clips I’d caught in the news—and some unfamiliar ones, including women with legs up to here.

He was surrounded by everything I couldn’t compete with.

I knew I wouldn’t fit there—dodging or indulging the paparazzi, brushing shoulders with the jet set, playing the part of someone I’d never be .

I could pretend, maybe. For a while. But Owen deserved someone who could stand beside him in that world without flinching.

I found myself gripping my phone tighter, as if I could hold onto him through the screen, as if keeping him in my hands meant keeping him close. But the truth echoed inside me: I will fight for you, but I’m not sure I could win a fight over you.

By the time I’d made it downstairs, showered and dressed for work, Walter was already in the kitchen.

“I want to be early at the club today. Can you drop me off on your way to work?” he asked, taking his bowl of yogurt and fruit from me in our usual morning routine.

“Sure. Are they even open this early?”

“A few of us are organizing a little party for next week. We want to meet and sort it out.”

“Wow. Walter, I didn’t know you were getting involved. That’s really nice to hear.”

He waved a hand like it was nothing—his signature dismissive wave. “Eh, it’s just two ladies who needed help and asked me. Janet and ...” He trailed off, mumbling the rest.

“That’s wonderful of you. Janet and who?” I asked as I sat down across from him.

“Clarice,” he said, barely above a mutter.

He looked so uncomfortable—worried I’d react to the name—so I kept my expression neutral.

“That’s great. It’ll do you good to be out and about.”

Walter scooped up another spoonful of yogurt but paused before eating it. “My grandson seems to be back at his shenanigans in London. ”

I cleared my throat and took a sip of my coffee.

“I told you you shouldn’t have got yourself involved with him,” Walter continued.

I wasn’t going to get into all that with him. “Ready to head out soon?” I asked instead, pointing my spoon at his half-eaten breakfast.

“In a minute,” he said, digging back into his bowl like we hadn’t just tiptoed across a minefield.

After dropping Walter off, I opened the shop with June and restocked a few shelves while she helped out early regulars. But my mind was elsewhere, snagged on a smile in a tabloid photo and the old, familiar ache it brought with it.

By mid-morning, I needed air—and something sweet.

I was in line at Breading Dreams, the bakery across from the shop, picking up something sweet for Walter and me for a change—two custard-filled éclairs, because ... why not ...?

The woman ahead of me was scrolling her phone with the volume just loud enough to spill a bit of Alanis Morissette into the sugar-scented air.

“Don’t forget to win first place. Don’t forget to keep that smile on your face.”

I froze. My hand still holding a bag of sweet rolls I’d picked up, my heart beating off rhythm. It took me a second to place the song: Perfect. Another, to realize why it hit me like a gut punch.

Hadn’t he always done both?

My heart ached for him, for his need to prove his worth and smile even when it hurt inside .

Maybe that was why his secret smile meant so much to me. It wasn’t just any smile; it was a genuine one, coming from deep in his heart.

I ached for him. For his presence, for his arms around me, his scent, his strength, the quiet force in him that radiated warmth, depth, and love that encompassed everything.

“Hey, Rio, you okay?” a voice startled me.

I looked up. I was first at the counter now, and the voice belonged to Anne—the baker. Finn’s wife, his ex-wife’s cousin, his first love. Her smile was warm and gentle, the kind that invited you to fall apart if you needed to.

“I’m good, thanks. You?” I asked, forcing a smile.

I wanted to ask her how she and Finn had made it through all the barriers life threw at them. But I just smiled, paid, and walked back across the street to the shop.

Back at the shop, I found June at the counter, filing an order from a vendor.

I worked quietly beside her until my phone pinged with a message. Almost noon here. Owen’s evening.

I hesitated a second before unlocking the screen, bracing without meaning to.

“Got called into a meeting with management tomorrow. No clue what it means yet. Heading to meet my agent now. How are you, Wio?”

This was it.

My fingers trembled a little when I typed. “I’m Okay. I’ll be thinking of you. Whatever happens, I’m proud of you.”

June must have sensed something—she turned, watching me finish typing .

I looked up from my phone. “I don’t think he’s coming back.” The words slipped out, raw and real, finally spoken after circling in my head all day.

June didn’t say anything right away. Just reached and placed a gentle hand on my forearm.

“Would you consider going there?” she asked softly.

I bit my lower lip. “I would, in a heartbeat, if he needs me,” I said, thinking about his smile—the perfect one that hid so much. “I just don’t want to add pressure. Not when he already feels like he has to be everything for everyone.”

I kept my worst fear to myself— what if he gets his dream back, and I’m not part of it?