Page 29 of A Brilliant Spring

We take the stairs up to the platform in the middle of the restaurant and the hostess sets the menus down on a table, dips her head, and saunters off. The chairs make no noise as they glide across the smooth marble floor with ease. The place is pulsing with energy as people drink, eat, and converse, and I feel myself drown in the background noise, letting my thoughts disappear. I mellow and relax into the soft jazz that flows all around us.

A sharp pain stabs my shin and when I look up from my menu, Riley’s face is drained of all colour, staring straight ahead at the bar. I stiffen a little as I turn, wondering what the hell has made her look like she’s seen a ghost. The world slows down as I turn around and my eyes settle on what, or who, she is looking at. What are the odds of being at the same restaurant as them on the same day? My heart skips a beat before it starts racing, and everything inside me begs to go over there. For Riley, but also, selfishly, for me.

There, at the long, sleek wooden bar, with its marble top, are Brandt and Rhys.

I want to scream. I want to laugh. I want to cry.

I want to go over there and place myself in between his legs, press my lips firmly against his, and drink in everything he can possibly give me. I want to kiss him so deeply I will never forget what he tastes like, and then I want to slap him across the face for putting my heart in this irreparable state of loneliness. One that I thought could never outshadow the loneliness my parents left me with.

I squeeze my eyes shut, barricading the opening for my eyes to cry, and tell my mind that he’s not here. That he means nothing to me, even if it takes lying to myself. When I open my eyes, I find Riley. She’s still staring over at them and she looks broken. My hand drapes over hers before I grip her hand tightly and she breaks her stare to make eye contact with me. She gives me a grateful look and I can see the emotions swimming in her eyes, holding back the same tears that I just forced back.

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

Brandt

Rhys still wasn’t himself after breakfast this morning. So, I spent the day with him to try to get his mind off everything. I think it helped, but not by much. After a game of basketball at the gym, he was still feeling down, so I suggested we spend the day at his place and play video games. Shooting things, killing things, that kind of stuff. The shit we used to do in high school and in the early years of college, before I dropped out.

It’s hard to console him when I’m not sure why he’s upset. Is it the fact that he’s actually going to be a father? Or is it that he treated Riley so fucking badly that he’s now filled with regret? I hope it’s the latter, honestly. Rhys can be a douche, but this is the worst he’s ever been.

“Okay, I’m fucking sick of shooting people,” I finally say. Rhys pauses the game and tosses the controller onto the coffee table, then drops his feet to the floor from where they were propped on the table.

“Let’s go grab some drinks,” he says. I hope he’s not talking about going out to the bar, because one, I am not in the mood for it, and two, he’s just found out he’s going to be a father. He doesn’t need any more drama.

“Sure,” I say hesitantly. “Let’s go to The Prime Cut for drinks, and we can have the full menu at the bar as well.” Rhys nods his head, jumps off the couch, and retreats to his room to change into something nicer. Luckily, I always dress in some sort of casual business attire. Some dark slacks and a nice button-down shirt are my signature go-to for every day. Yeah, it might be a bit overboard for a Saturday or Sunday, but I’m busy running two fucking companies. I never know when I’m going to get pulled into a meeting.

I let my head loll back onto the couch and close my eyes. My hands run through my golden hair as I take a deep breath, and my mind wanders to where it always goes when I have a moment to myself: Elissa. It’s been weeks since Elissa and I have been together, and I’m slowly losing it. Each day, there’s another crack in my resolve to stay away from her and have her fight for us. Some days, I don’t even know why I’m staying away, why I’m torturing myself with this need for her to choose me for once, instead of me always choosing her. But I have to. Right?

If I’m being honest with myself, it’s more than that. It’s more like the point of no return. I was an idiot, and now I need to stick to my guns. I can’t crawl back like a little bitch and beg her to love me, even if that’s exactly what I want to do. I want to run to her, fall to my knees, wrap my arms around her perfect legs, and cry, begging her to take me back. I miss the way she feels in my hands, my arms. She fit me so perfectly. And the way she kisses. Fuck. I miss her gorgeous, full, heart-shaped lips and the way they felt pressed against mine, and when they wrapped around my cock. Mmm. Fuck. You need to get her out of your fucking head. Easier said than done, motherfucker.

•••

The Prime Cut is a posh, exclusive joint that I used to dream of being able to get into on a moment’s notice when I was first starting up Collins Global Collective. The decor is a little over the top for my taste, but I never grew up in the atmosphere that it takes to impress the rich. This place screams opulence. Giant crystals drape off the light fixtures and sparkle brightly, the shiny marble floors gleam, and the ridiculous fountain waterfall at the hostess stand is just pretentious. Really, who needs a waterfall fountain in their restaurant?

The hostess walks us to the bar where Rhys and I sidle up against the reddish wood bar, with its sleek marble countertops. The restaurant is buzzing with life and laughter. Over here at the bar, it’s more low-key. Mostly us businessmen talking shop, having a drink or two to unwind. The bartender comes over and I order a round of beers for me and Rhys. When the bartender walks away to get our drinks, I turn to Rhys.

“Any better?”

He shrugs. “Meh. I just need a few drinks and then we can talk about it. I really don’t want to talk about it right this minute.” I get that more than anyone — not wanting to talk about things, that is. But it’s hard when you see your friend going through something and you just want to support them. He’s my brother, and I’d do anything for him. Lord knows he’s been a rock for me over the months that Elissa and I split for the first time. I nod at the bartender as he slides the beers over to us and I toss my black card down on the bartop.

“Open a tab for us, please.”

•••

We’re pretty quiet over the first few beers, sometimes sitting in complete silence, punctuated with brief chatting about CGC. Things are finally running smoothly now that I’m back in the office more. Rhys has had his hands full these last few months and has done a great job with what he could, but there was too much on his plate. It was too much for anyone. No wonder this stuff with Riley is really weighing on him. Hopefully now he can get back to his regular self and step up, be a man.

“So…Riley,” I say. Rhys shoots me a deadly look.

“So, Elissa.”

“We’re not here because of me and Elissa. It’s you and this Riley situation that’s got you all messed up.”

Rhys sighs, his shoulders drooping as his head bows over his hands, which are clasping his beer on the counter. “Yeah, what about Riley?”

“Well, what are you going to do? You’re going to step up and be there for her, right?” He side-eyes me and shakes his head in a noncommittal way. “What the fuck does that mean?” I grumble, my tone a bit threatening. Rhys straightens and his head falls back as he lets out an exasperated sigh.

“I don’t know. It means I’ve fucked up and I don’t really deserve to be part of this. She’s better off without me.” A wave of anger rumbles through me and my words taste bitter as I speak them.

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