“Rochelle,” Bric says, throwing me one of those Don’t overreact looks.
“I’m serious. There’s no other explanation for it. He hate-fucked me. Revenge fuck. Whatever you want to call it. That’s what happened last night.” I sigh and try not to feel depressed and sad. “And then this morning I got out of bed to go check on Adley when she woke up, and when I came back, he was gone.”
“Gone?” Bric asks. “Where’d he go?”
“Just left,” I say. “I texted him. Asked if he’d be here for breakfast. And he never texted back.”
“He’s just mad,” Bric says.
“I know.” I huff. “He told me that last night too. He spelled it out very clearly. He was worried about me. Sad about my leaving. But then when I came back—”
“Now he’s just angry.”
“Right.”
“It’s a pretty typical reaction,” Bric says.
“I realize that. Which is why I’m not going to make a big deal about this. But I don’t know if this is going to work, Bric. He might not want me. He might just want to hurt me. Exactly the way I hurt him.”
“No,” Bric says, like I’m being ridiculous.
“I’m not being ridiculous,” I say. “Maybe he’s not out to hurt me. But he’s doing something, Bric. He’s playing a game, but I’m pretty sure we’re not all playing the same game.”
“He’s mad, Rochelle. You have to expect that. He’s gonna come around.”
“What does that mean? Come around? Do you really think he’s gonna fall back in love with me the way he was? Because I don’t. I think he’s here for us. Me, you, and him together. And that’s all.”
Bric rubs his hand across his scratchy jaw as he thinks this over, so I check on Adley. She fell asleep in the car on the way over here and hasn’t woken up yet. Bric is still thinking.
“I don’t want an us, Bric.”
He looks me in the eye and says. “I do. But I get it. And I’m fine with you and Quin getting your little happy ending. But I’m telling you, Rochelle, he’s just trying to protect himself right now and the best way to let him work that out and ensure you two get back together is to have an us.”
“He said he doesn’t trust me.”
“He has a good reason,” Bric counters.
“I know that,” I say, starting to get angry. “I understand that. But the whole point of us doing this… game… or whatever it is, was so that you can help me figure this out. I want him, Bric. You’re supposed to help me.”
But as soon as the words come out of my mouth I realize how stupid that is. I trust no one and I have very good reasons for that. I’ve learned over the course of my life that people are selfish. People are out for themselves. People are liars. I have a lot of experience in being lied to.
Elias Bricman definitely fits all those assumptions I have about people. And then some.
Adley starts whining. Our conversation probably woke her. So I reach over, unsnap her safety belt, and pull her into my lap.
“Hey, pumpkin,” Bric says.
Adley buries her head into my sweater and rubs her eyes.
“I’m having all the Christmas decorations put up early,” Bric says, reaching over to tickle Adley’s chin. She squirms in my arms and then giggles through a mouthful of bubbly spit.
I can’t help but smile at that.
“Are you hungry, Adley?” Bric asks, picking up a section of mandarin orange from my plate. He offers it to Adley, who makes grabby fists and stuffs it right up to her mouth and begins to suck. I will have to write that down in her baby book. She’s never had oranges before.
“Christmas is coming early, huh?” I ask. “That’s a first.”
“Well,” Bric says, leaning back in the booth. “First year I’m a father.”
I throw him a look of caution. “You don’t know you’re the father. You might not want to think that way.”
Bric shrugs. “We’re never gonna know, so might as well think that way.”
That’s very confusing for me, but I don’t have time to think about it, because Quin walks up to the table and scoots into the booth next to Adley’s seat.
Not across from me.
I asked Quin once why he always sat in the chair and never sat next to me in the booth. He told me, “Because I like to look at you.” So apparently even that has changed.
I frown and concentrate on Adley.
“What’s up?” Quin says, looking over his shoulder for the waitress. She comes up, pen and pad ready, and Quin says, “Coffee and cornflakes.” Which kinda makes me happy again, because Quin and cornflakes go together like bread and butter.
At least that’s still the same.
Quin moves Adley’s seat, placing it on the empty chair, and then scoots in closer to me. Puts his arm around me. Leans in and kisses me.
I kiss him back. But just when I start to get in to it, he pulls away.
I look at Bric. Bric is smiling. Like this is a good sign.
This is not a good sign. He didn’t mean that kiss. He’s not sitting across from me. He walked out on me this morning without saying goodbye.
Everything is wrong.
“Hi, Adley,” Quin says.
Adley has turned her head now to face Quin. She’s got her tangerine slice smeared all over her face.
“Do you like that?” Quin asks in a low voice as he touches her pudgy fist.
Adley turns her head away, smearing my sweater with tangerine juice, and goes back to staring at Bric.
Quin sits back in the booth, and when I look over at him, he’s frowning. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I don’t think she likes me.”
“She doesn’t even know you, Quin,” Bric says. “It’s been two days.”
“She seems to like you well enough,” Quin says, picking up the coffee the waitress just set down and sipping it. “And you hate kids.”
“Other people’s kids,” Bric corrects. “Why would I hate my own kid?”
Quin says nothing. But I can read his mind. She’s not yours. She’s mine.
“So what are you guys gonna do tonight?” Quin asks. “Big plans?”
I stare down at Adley’s head. It’s my night with Bric.
“I was wondering if you’d like to join in,” Bric says.
I look up at him, then over to Quin.
Quin shrugs. “I guess. I have a late meeting today, so I’ll probably just show up after dinner.”
When I glance over at Bric he’s got a smug look on his face that says, Leave everything to me.
But show up after dinner? To me, that means, I’ll show up to fuck.
“We can have dinner together,” I say, testing out my theory. “We’ll wait for you.”
“Nah,” Quin says. “I’ll get dinner at work and then come by around eight.”
Eight. Yup. Just for the fuck.
The waitress brings Quin’s bowl of cornflakes and a small pitcher of milk, so I spend the next several minutes watching him eat as Bric talks to Adley. Quin misses none of that interaction. His eyes are on Bric and Adley the whole time.
He never once glances at me.