Chapter 305: Introducing Kayla and Jeremiah
Kayden
Rhys stood there, looking completely stiff and deeply uncomfortable. The boutique owner had forced him into a slightly outdated, patterned tweed driving cap and a vintage brown leather jacket that completely altered his usual sleek, athletic aesthetic.
But the absolute crown jewels of the disguise were on his face: he had applied a thick, bushy, salt-and-pepper mustache right above his top lip, paired with a slightly messy, dark brown hairpiece that peeked out from beneath the cap, completely obscuring his famous dark hair.
"Do not say a word," Rhys warned, his deep voice sounding incredibly bizarre coming from a man who currently looked like a retired European soccer coach from the nineteen-eighties.
"Oh my God," I gasped, my shoulders shaking violently as I leaned against a nearby clothing rack for support. "Rhys... you look like you’re about to sell me a used car or complain about the local transit system. It’s absolutely beautiful."
Randall walked around Rhys, adjusting the collar of the leather jacket with an expression of pure, professional pride. "See? I told you it was the perfect disguise. Your broad shoulders just look like typical middle-aged bulk in that jacket, and the mustache completely alters the geometry of your mouth and jaw. Side by side, you two look like a standard, slightly eccentric married couple visiting from out of town. No one—and I mean no one—is going to look at you and see the captain of the Northern Avalanche or the center defender."
Rhys looked at himself in the full-length mirror, blinking in disbelief as he tentatively touched the edge of the fake mustache. "This is insane. I look ridiculous."
"You look invisible," Randall corrected, clapping a hand firmly down on Rhys’s shoulder before turning to smile at me. "The entire commercial district down the street is fair game now. Go out, have some actual fun, and don’t worry about a thing. The car will be waiting at the designated pickup spot whenever you’re done."
Rhys tried to argue again, but I grabbed his hand and shook my head. "It’s only for a few hours. Let’s just enjoy this moment together."
"Alright," he agreed.
Ten minutes later, we stepped out of the boutique’s side exit and onto the bustling pavement of the city’s most popular cultural avenue.
It was surreal.
The street was packed with couples, tourists, and shoppers shifting between local cafes and street vendors. For the first time in months, there were no whispers, no pointing fingers, and no lenses poking out from behind the trees across the street.
People brushed past us without a second glance, completely blind to our true identities.
I reached over, naturally sliding my hand down into Rhys’s palm, my fingers interlocking with his. He tensed for a split second out of pure habit, his eyes scanning the crowd for threats, but as a group of teenagers wearing Northern Avalanche jerseys walked straight past us without even blinking, his posture finally relaxed.
"See?" I whispered, leaning my head closer to his shoulder, the wide brim of my hat shielding my face. "I told you it would work, Captain."
Rhys let out a low rumble of laughter, his fingers tightening securely around mine. "I hate to admit it, but you and Raymond did plan something interesting. I can actually breathe out here."
"Since we’re completely untraceable, I know the perfect place for us to go," I said, tugging his arm to guide him down the cobblestone path. "There’s an old, historic artisanal market hall three blocks down—The Grand Pavilion Market. It’s famous for local street food, antique stalls, and live acoustic music. We could never go there normally because the aisles are too narrow for a security detail, but today we’re just a regular couple."
Rhys smiled, the fake mustache shifting comically with the movement of his lips, though his eyes were completely warm. "Lead the way, then. Let’s see what this regular life feels like."
"Yes, also since I am dressed like your wife, do call me Kayla."
Rhys’s eyes widened and he just nodded in response. "I forgot to say this, but the male and female versions of you are both beautiful."
"Thank you, Jeremiah," I responded and stood on tiptoe to kiss his lips gently.
Rhys slowly kissed me back, and when I pulled away, he gave me a questioning look. "Why the hell am I Jeremiah and not a lovely name?"
I chuckled. "What do you mean? Jeremiah is an amazing name."
Rhys rolled his eyes before he finally agreed. "Fine. Jeremiah it is."
"To the Grand Pavilion," I muttered as I pulled his hand forward.
The Grand Pavilion Market was a vibrant, sprawling maze of sights and sounds. The massive brick building was filled with the rich, intoxicating aromas of roasted coffee beans, fresh cinnamon pastries, and grilled savory meats.
Local vendors shouted out their daily specials over the lively hum of the crowd, and near the center fountain, an acoustic guitarist was playing a soft, rhythmic melody that echoed beautifully against the high timber ceilings.
We spent the next two hours completely lost in the crowd. We wandered through the narrow aisles, stopping at an antique bookstall where Rhys spent fifteen minutes inspecting old, leather-bound sports almanacs while I teased him about his hidden inner nerd.
We browsed through handmade wooden crafts, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t have to worry about my expression or how I was standing. I was just a person out with the man I loved, enjoying a beautiful afternoon.
And every stop we made, we ended it with taking pictures.
After walking for minutes, my stomach let out a loud, distinct rumble.
Rhys immediately stopped in his tracks, his protective instincts snapping right back to the surface.
"Food," he said firmly, looking down at me with absolute seriousness. "Dr. Amara said you need consistent meals to keep your strength up. What do you want?" he asked as he rubbed my stomach gently.
I pointed toward a busy corner stall that had a long line of locals waiting in front of it. A large, hand-painted sign above the counter read: The Melted Crust – Artisanal Gourmet Grilled Cheese.
The scent of bubbling gruyère, sharp white cheddar, and freshly baked sourdough drifting from the flat-top grills was completely mouth-watering.
"That," I said determinedly. "I want a gourmet grilled cheese with truffle oil, and I want it right now because the baby and I are craving it."
Rhys didn’t hesitate. He guided me to a quiet, rustic wooden booth near the back of the market hall, safely tucked away from the main walking path. "You sit here and rest your feet. I’ll handle the line."
I watched him walk away, his massive, imposing frame moving with total ease through the crowd in that ridiculous leather jacket and driving cap. It was incredibly endearing to see how seriously he took every single aspect of this new Chapter of our lives.
Even dressed like a middle-aged stranger, his entire focus remained entirely on making sure I was safe, fed, and happy.
Who would have thought that the ice captain would be this perfect?
I smiled as I watched him and then took pictures of him.
A few minutes later, Rhys returned to the table carrying a wooden tray loaded with two massive, perfectly golden grilled cheese sandwiches and two cold bottles of sparkling apple cider. He slid into the booth opposite me, carefully setting the food down between us.
"The vendor told me this one has three different types of cheese and a caramelized onion jam," Rhys said, sliding the larger plate toward me. "Eat up."
I took a massive bite, the warm, savory flavor completely hitting the spot. I groaned in pure satisfaction, leaning back against the wooden bench. "Oh my god, Rhys. This is literally the best thing I have ever tasted in my entire life. I might actually cry."
Rhys cracked a grin, picking up his own sandwich. But as he went to take a bite, a corner of his fake mustache dipped straight into the melted cheese, getting completely stuck.
I froze, staring at his face for a solid three seconds before a loud, breathless laugh exploded out of my throat. I had to slap my hand over my mouth to keep from spitting out my food, my eyes watering as I pointed at his upper lip.
Rhys paused, his brow furrowing as he felt the tug on his skin. He pulled the sandwich away, looking down to see a string of cheese literally connected to his fake facial hair. "Is it stuck?"
"It’s completely compromised," I choked out through my laughter, reaching into my bag for a napkin. "Hold still, let me fix it before someone thinks you’re growing dairy out of your face."
I leaned across the rustic table, gently holding his chin with one hand while I used the napkin to clean the cheese off the synthetic fibers, my heart warming at the absolute absurdity of the moment.
Rhys stayed perfectly still, his sharp eyes locked onto mine, a soft, incredibly tender expression taking over his features despite the ridiculous disguise.
"Thank you," he murmured softly when I finally pulled back, his voice dropping into that low, intimate tone that always made my pulse race. "I will never, ever grow a mustache," he said, and his words, along with the way he angrily pressed the mustache back in place, made me laugh gently.
Rhys reached across the table, his large hand folding over mine, his thumb gently tracing the back of my knuckles. "Are you having a good time, Kayla?"
I looked down at our joined hands, a profound sense of happiness settling deep into my chest. I felt the steady, reassuring warmth of his grip and slowly nodded. "I am having the absolute best time," I said honestly, looking up to meet his gaze. "No cameras, no expectations, no pressure. Just us."
"I am glad. As long as you are happy, Kayla."
I chuckled because the way he said the word "Kayla" was a bit exaggerated, and each time he opened his mouth to call me that, I felt the butterflies in my stomach.
We finished our meal in quiet comfort, talking about everything and nothing at all, completely wrapped up in the simple luxury of anonymity.
By the time we finally left the grand market hall, dusk was beginning to settle over the city streets, the sky turning a beautiful shade of deep purple and amber.
We took so many pictures of the sky and us and then headed to our designated pickup where the bodyguards and driver were waiting.
"Thank you for today, Jeremiah," I muttered as we reached the car and climbed into it.
"Anytime, Kayla," he responded back with a grin on his face, and then we started laughing as we stripped off the wigs, hats, and especially Rhys’s ridiculous mustache.
"I love you," Rhys muttered as he kissed my forehead.
"I love you more," I responded, placing my head on his chest.