“Thank you,” I say as Chella smiles at me. But God, my heart hurts for him. He must have written this while I was gone. I hold it to my chest and sigh.
“I know it means a lot to you, so I need to give it back. And don’t try to pay me for it. I don’t need the money.”
“Thank you so much,” I repeat. “I just wanted to sell it. It was a way to start the process of leaving, you know? And you’re right. Those words Quin wrote to me…” I close my eyes. Feeling heavy with dissatisfaction. “I knew there was no way out of the game if I didn’t leave. And if I kept these words, held on to them, well, I’d never have the nerve to leave him behind. It made me feel desperate back then. Desperate to cling to what little we had. And selling this book gave me strength. Getting rid of it got rid of my longing, you know? Or so I thought.” I sigh, looking down at my book. “It’s not gone though, Chella. My longing is as strong as ever. It scares me,” I say. “I don’t trust people easily. I trust you because you don’t need anything from me. But—
“But you think Bric and Quin need you for the game.”
“Yes,” I say. I take a deep breath and let it out. “I’m gonna get hurt. I’m falling for it again, Chella, and it’s not good.”
“Hey,” she says, placing a hand on my arm. “It’s going to work out, Rochelle. I know it is.”
But I’m not so sure about that. Bric isn’t the man I thought he was. He can’t be that selfish asshole and be so sweet to my daughter at the same time. Unless he’s only doing it because he thinks she’s really his?
And Quin isn’t making any move to leave the game.
I’m not winning this time. Because I want to trust them. I want them to be real and I know they’re not.
I’m so off my game. The rules have changed and no one bothered to tell me.
I’m an amateur. All my moves are clumsy, all my motivations jumbled.
I learned a long time ago that you can’t trust people. I have lived with too many lies and disappointments to count. I have learned the ways of the world through the lens of dishonesty. Deceit. Cheating and backstabbing. I have wounds from those lessons. I have deep scars.
I’m gonna lose, I realize. I’m gonna lose this game. Because I desperately want to trust these men and I know it’s a bad idea. I want them to heal me, but they have long claws and sharp teeth.
Bric is trying to claim my heart by going through my daughter. And it’s working. I like him so much more now than I ever did before.
And Quin has always had my heart. But now I don’t have his.
No. There is no win in my future.
Chapter Twelve - Bric
“Is everything OK?” I ask Rochelle as we eat dinner. I stopped by this new restaurant a block away from the Club and picked up the most amazing sea bass tacos. Plus a little side of candied sweet potatoes that they whipped up special for the pumpkin. Almost none of it made it to her mouth because she’s got it all over her chubby face and fingers.
“Fine,” Rochelle says. She ate her food, so I’m going to assume that was an honest answer. When she goes off her food, that’s when I know to worry. That was, after all, the only weird thing I noticed about her behavior right before she took off last year. “But he’s late.”
“Only five minutes,” I say, glancing down at my watch.
“He used to be early. And whenever we had breakfast in the White Room booth, he used to sit across from me. He told me he liked it better than sitting next to me because he wanted to stare at my face.”
Hmmm. Is she overreacting? I’m not sure. “Well, look, Rochelle, you need to give the guy some time. He’s processing.”
She sighs and gets up. Disappears into Adley’s bedroom and comes back with a little pink washcloth to clean her messy face.
Adley balks. Squirms. And when Rochelle is persistent, she cries.
“You’re a good mother, Rochelle.”
She stops cleaning up Adley to smile at me. “Thanks.”
“I mean it too. You did good. And all by yourself. Don’t let this thing with Quin derail you. Don’t let it upset you or rob you of all the great things happening in your life right now.”
“I know,” she says, releasing Adley from the chair and picking her up. “You’ve been pretty great.” I shrug, going for a sheepish response. Rochelle doesn’t fall for it. Sheepish isn’t a word anyone would use to describe me. “We both know you’re going out of your way to help me right now. I’m just not sure what you’re getting out of this, Elias.”
“I’m getting you.”
“Typical, typical answer,” she says.
“And the pumpkin.” I smile big at the new addition to my typical response. “I like her. A lot.” I get a sad smile from Rochelle. And I know her well enough to read her mind. So I add something else to the new addition. “But don’t worry. If you and Quin work out and want me to back away, I will.”
Rochelle stares at me for a moment, unsure if she should take that promise at face value.
Even I’m not sure she should take that promise at face value. So I don’t make another addendum.
“I’m gonna give her a bath and get her ready for bed. Be done in thirty.”
“Sure,” I say, standing up. “I’ll be here.”
I gather up all the dinner trash and hit the elevator button to take it down to the dumpster in the garage. When the doors open, I practically slam into Quin.
“Shit,” he laughs. “You almost knocked me down.” He’s still wearing his work suit, but he’s holding dry-cleaning bags.
“So you showed,” I say, some of Rochelle’s irritation rubbing off on me.
“Why wouldn’t I come?” Quin asks.
“Rochelle told me what you did last night.”
“What’d I do?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No,” he says. “I’m not. What did she tell you?”
“Revenge fuck? Hate fuck? Those are two ways she described what happened last night.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“She said you fucked her and then told her that’s exactly how you fucked Chella when she ambushed us.”
“So? Did I miss the memo where everyone is supposed to lie and spare Rochelle’s feelings?”
“Are you gonna be a dick about this? She said you left this morning without saying goodbye.”
“I needed to go home and change, Bric.” And then he shakes his dry-cleaning. “Which is why I brought a fucking suit this time.”
Oh. Yeah, that kinda makes sense.
“And she was with the baby. I thought she went back to sleep.”
Hmm. All this adds up. “She said you didn’t sit across from her today at breakfast.”
Quin laughs. “Why the fuck would I sit across from her when I can sit next to her? What the hell is going on?” he asks. “Why is she back if all she’s gonna do is complain about everything I do?”
“I don’t think she’s complaining, Quin. She feels like you’re not invested in her.”