Smith and I both get up at the same time. We’re surrounding her a second later, Smith holding on to her shoulders, asking her over and over again. “What’s happening, Chella? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
I don’t say anything, and I don’t touch her. Just hover like a third wheel. Not allowed to touch her, Quin. But I want to. And when she reaches for me instead of Smith, I let it happen. I pull her in and let her hug me tight.
“Chella?” I ask. “What’s going on?”
Smith is there too, the three of us pressed together tightly. It hurts. God, it hurts. I’ve missed her. I’ve missed him too, if I’m being honest. But mostly I’ve missed… this.
The us.
“I don’t know how to tell you this,” Chella says, leaning her head on my shoulder. “I have no idea how to tell you this.”
“Tell me what?” I ask.
“Just say it,” Smith urges. “Tell me what the fuck is happening.”
“Rochelle is back,” Chella says.
“Back where?” Smith growls. He goes from soft and caring to angry in the same moment.
“Here,” Chella says, still looking at me. “She called me. She called me, Quin. And even though I promised her I’d never say anything to you guys, the promise I made to you last year is way more important to me. I didn’t want to be the one who found her. I didn’t want to be the one who had to tell you anything.”
“Where is she?” Bric says. I’d almost forgotten about him. He didn’t rush over to Chella when she started to cry. And he’s not pressed up against her like Smith and I are.
Chella pulls away and I feel a sense of loss. God, if only Smith hadn’t fallen in love with her. We could still be playing the game. Maybe I’m not as into it as Bric, but I played it for more than a decade because I liked it. And I do miss it.
She turns to Smith and says, “She called me like thirty minutes ago and said she was passing through town. Did I want to have dinner tonight?”
“What’d you say?” I ask. But her words—passing through town—they stab me.
“I said yes, of course.” She takes a moment to wipe the tears off her cheeks and dab a fingertip at her eye makeup.
“Did she say anything else?” I ask, unsure how much I want to know.
Chella nods. “She said not to tell you guys.”
“Which guys?” I ask. “All of us? Or just me?”
Chella’s face crumples, so I get that answer even though she never answers.
I walk back over to the table and take a seat. They all wait to see if I’ll say anything, but I don’t. I just sit there and drink my whiskey.
Passing through town.
Don’t tell Quin.
Got it.
“I have her room number,” Chella says, coming over to sit next to me in Smith’s chair. “She’s at the Four Seasons.”
“The Four Seasons.” I laugh. “Of course she is. The fucking Four Seasons.” I raise my glass and yell, “One more for me, bartender. Because the girl I loved got pregnant, had an abortion, left town without telling me, and then decides to come back a year later, except she’s just passing through. And she’s staying at the motherfucking Four Seasons Hotel. That’s just fan-fucking-tastic.”
“Quin,” Chella says in a soft voice. “I have to tell you something else.”
“There’s more?” I chuckle, watching the bartender refill my glass. “Hit me, Chella. Might as well just plunge that knife in a little deeper.”
“She didn’t have an abortion.”
I choke on that whiskey. Almost spit it out. “What?” I croak, trying not to cough.
“There was a baby crying in the background. So I asked her about it. And she just… she just said she had a baby. Six months old. And did I want to come over while she was in town?”
“Right,” I whisper. “Do you want to meet my new baby, Chella? And don’t tell Quin I’m just passing through town.”
I stand up but Smith has my arm. “Nope,” he says. “You’re not going over there alone.”
“I’m not going over there at all, you dumbass.” I laugh. “Fuck her. Just fuck her.”
Bric is standing in front of me, like a goddamned wall. “Then where are you going?”
“Back to work,” I say, pushing him aside.
“No, Quin,” Chella says, tugging on my arm. “No. She’s here and we’re gonna have this out once and for all. If she’s only here one night, then this is your only chance to put it behind you.”
“Put it behind me?” I ask. “She had my baby, Chella. She got pregnant, took off in the middle of the night. Never bothered to call. And she had my baby.”
“You don’t know it’s yours,” Bric says.
I glare at him in disgust. “It’s mine.”
Bric puts his hands up, conceding to my anger. “Whatever.”
“We’re going,” Smith says. His no-nonsense voice doesn’t quite have the same power when he’s wearing sweats, not the way it does when he’s in a five-thousand-dollar suit. But it comes close. “We’re going over there. All four of us. And we’re getting to the bottom of this bullshit. Fuck her. She did this to us, OK? She fucked with us. I for one—I’m getting an answer. And the rest of you are coming with me.”
Smith hands the dog off to Chella, who hugs her tightly to her chest, and then he picks up his gym bag. “Meet us in the Four Seasons’ lobby. Come on, Chella.” He grabs her hand and tugs her down the stairs, leaving me alone with Bric.
I look at him, my eyes narrowed and angry.
“What do you want to do?” he asks.
“Did you know about this?” I ask.
“No,” he says, defensive. “How the fuck would I know about this?”
I don't believe him. I can’t put my finger on why, but I don’t believe him.
“I swear, Quin. I had no idea she was in town. But now that she’s here you should go talk to her. Say what you have to say. Set things right.”
“Set things right?” I ask. “In what way do you see me setting things right? I didn’t do anything. I didn’t leave her. I didn’t run away. I didn’t tell her to get an abortion. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I didn’t tell her to get an abortion, either,” Bric growls. “And now that you know she kept the baby, don’t you want to see her?”
“How do you know the baby’s a her?” I ask.
“Not the baby, asshole,” Bric says. “Her, as in Rochelle.”
Do I want to see Rochelle?
I can honestly say that up until this revelation, that answer was yes. So many yeses. No hesitation, no qualms, no conditions. Yes.
I thought I’d feel relief when Rochelle was found. We did look for her but Bric never had any luck. And every time he called with a report I’d have a little flutter of hope in my heart that he’d say he knew where she was. I’d imagine how I’d go to her. How we’d reunite and all the bad things would disappear. All the sadness and anger and confusion.
But now that this moment is real… I’m so fucking pissed off.
And she had my baby.
I missed it. I missed the pregnancy. Her belly getting big. The heartbeat. That picture thing the doctor takes that people post all over social media. The birth. What did she name it? What does it look like?