Page 28 of A Brilliant Spring

“One was tall, broad shoulders, with golden-brown hair. The other one looked like hell, but still handsome. He had black hair…” Midge keeps talking animatedly while I zone out, looking over at Riley to make sure she’s okay. These pregnancy hormones are awful, because her eyes are constantly misty and brimming with tears.

“Uh, thanks Midge,” I say. “Maybe next time you’ll get numbers for us.” I chuckle halfheartedly, and she shrugs and walks away.

Becca’s expression is full of concern as she glances between me and Riley. “I’ll just let you two eat and come back in a minute,” she says before walking away. I cut into my pancakes, keeping a watchful eye on Riley as she picks at her plate, pushing around the pieces of French toast she cut up.

“Eat up, Riles. We’re going shopping after this, and you need your strength.” She nods her head in a slow, sad bob.

Chapter

Twenty-Six

Elissa

Arthur, my driver, helps haul all the stuff we bought upstairs. There are piles of bags with baby clothes, toys, and other random things babies need, like nail clippers and booger suckers. We even picked out the crib, which is being delivered in a few weeks. Riley seems to have calmed down a little bit, but she’s still upset from hearing about Rhys being all devastated about having a baby. I’m sure it’s not what she thinks. He’s probably just feeling guilty over the fact that he’s been acting like a dick for the last few weeks.

“Where do you want to put all this stuff?” I ask Riley. She’s standing in the middle of the living room with bags lined up on the couches, coffee table, and floor surrounding her. Her face is devoid of emotion. She looks like a shell of herself. It crumbles my heart knowing that there’s little I can do for her in this moment, other than be there for her, in whatever way she needs. “Why don’t you go lie down and have a nap? You’re probably exhausted. We can deal with this stuff later,” I say. She nods her head once and shuffles off to her room, the door closing behind her with a soft click.

A wave of anger pummels me and I have to struggle not to take my phone out and message Brandt about his friend being a fucking moron. What good will it do? Not a fucking lot. Can’t make a man be a father when he doesn’t want to be. I know that very well from experience. I just pray that everything we heard is a big misunderstanding, and Rhys comes around to make things better. Riley deserves so much more than an absent baby daddy. But even if that’s how this turns out, Riley will have me by her side, no matter what. I push away the rest of my thoughts of Brandt for now and focus on what I’m doing.

•••

Approximately two hours later, Riley emerges from her room looking worse than she did when she went to lie down. I can only imagine how she feels, because if it’s even a fraction of how I feel about how Brandt left things between us, I know she’s going through hell.

I honestly didn’t think I’d see the day where I’d be the person in a relationship, and who’s upset over losing one. If anyone were to run, I’d have thought it would be me, not Brandt. I can’t explain this sense of abandonment I feel. It’s worse than what I’ve ever felt with my parents being absent in my life. He wanted me. He wanted a relationship, with all the little things, like cuddling, and whatever else you fucking do in relationships. I just wanted him. But he went and walked away from me. He walked away from me…and what does that say about me? Clearly, my parents aren’t the only ones who think I’m unlovable. Brandt probably realized his mistake and ran for the hills. Who would want to be with someone as unlovable as me? I’m just lucky I have Riley and Lana.

“Where is everything?” Riley asks, pulling me out of my spiral.

“Oh, I started putting everything away while you were napping. The random baby stuff, like toiletries, is in the washroom, I’ve started a load of laundry, and the other random things I put in the storage closet until you’re ready to figure everything out.”

She gives me a single nod, not saying much of anything. Right at this moment, I am so worried for her. She seems off-kilter, and I’m worried that she’s not recovered enough to handle this disappointment and sadness. I shuffle over to her and wrap my arms around her thin frame, pulling her in close for a crushing embrace. “Rhys will come around, Riles.” And that’s all I can say, because I can’t promise her that he will, but I also can’t leave her with no hope.

“Yeah…you’re probably right,” she whispers. She steps out of my arms and walks over to the fridge, rummaging around but coming out empty-handed. She’s so disconnected right now.

“Do you want to go out and grab something to eat?” I ask her. She shrugs her shoulders and sighs.

“Sure, I guess. Doesn’t matter to me.” Her tone is nonchalant and monotonous. I clear my throat and shoot daggers with my eyes at her.

“You’re eating. I’m not arguing with you about this. That baby needs nutrition.”

She rolls her eyes at me.

“Yes, Mom,” she says playfully. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant I was fine having something here if we didn’t go out.” I fold my arms across my chest and kick out a leg.

“Go get dressed. We’ll go somewhere nice for dinner. Maybe grab a juicy steak or something.”

“Mmm…steak,” she says, and I can practically hear the saliva pooling in her mouth. I giggle to myself as she walks past me toward her room.

“And we still need to plan our trip to tell your parents!” I holler as she disappears behind her door.

•••

When we get to the steakhouse, I let Arthur know that we’ll text him when we’re almost finished eating. That way, he doesn’t need to park and wait right in downtown Toronto, and he can go have dinner or something himself. Inside, the restaurant is swanky and upscale. There’s grey marble flooring, expensive-looking chandeliers that glitter across the vaulted ceiling, lots of rich mahogany wood throughout the place, and a massive waterfall fountain that stands in the centre of the entryway, dividing the waiting area from the dining area. The hostess counter is right in front of the fountain.

“Do you have a reservation?” the hostess says condescendingly, without looking up from her book.

“Uh, technically no,” I respond. “But I believe the Blacks have a standing reservation?”

The hostess’ eyes snap up and her body becomes ramrod straight as her lips curl into a cheshire smile. Porcelain-white teeth, impeccably straight, gleam behind her plump rouge lips. “Oh, Ms. Black. So sorry, I didn’t see you there. For two?” Her eyes flick between me and Riley. “Right this way.” She extends her arm and grabs two menus, then leads us to the VIP area in the restaurant. As we pass the other tables, there’s a shift in the air within the restaurant, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. Every nerve in my body feels awakened, on high alert.

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