Rebel Heir (Rush Series Duet #1)(56)
Rush sat next to me and just kept nodding.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I only found out yesterday and…I just couldn’t say it out loud yet.”
Long minutes went by, and he continued to just sit there and nod. “Say something, please,” I whispered while wiping away tears.
He couldn’t even look at me. “You said you don’t even know the guy’s number.”
I looked down and shook my head.
“What kind of a piece of shit doesn’t even give a woman the right contact information?”
“The kind who doesn’t want to be involved in your life after one night.”
Rush took a deep breath and let it out. Then he finally turned to face me. “Jesus Christ. Have you thought about what you’re going to do?”
“I haven’t been able to think about anything, Rush. Honestly, I’ve been so worried about what you would think; it hasn’t really sunk in yet. I know I can’t have an abortion, though. If my Mom had…”
Rush reached over and took my hand. “I know. I get it.”
We sat in quiet again. Eventually, I said, “I’m not ready to be a mother. I live in a studio apartment in Queens, and I have a one-book commitment from a publisher with a tiny advance, which they’ll probably have to sue me to get back when I don’t turn in a manuscript on time. I don’t know the first thing about babies, or being a mother, for that matter. I didn’t even have a maternal example growing up. But what terrifies me the most is…” I turned to face him and he looked up into my eyes. “…what does this all mean between you and me?”
“Gia…” Rush raked his hand through his hair for what seemed like the tenth time. “I don’t have any answers.”
I didn’t have a right to be mad at his noncommittal response. I’d gotten myself into this predicament, and I wasn’t na?ve enough to think this didn’t change everything. But that didn’t mean it wouldn’t crush me to feel him pulling away.
Rush’s phone chimed, and he pulled it from his pocket. “Shit. The liquor company is at The Heights with my delivery. I’m supposed to be there now to accept it.”
“Go.” I forced a smile. “Can’t run a bar without liquor, and unfortunately my predicament isn’t going anywhere in a hurry.”
He stood. “Yeah. Alright. I’ll…I’ll see you later.” Rush walked a few steps toward my bedroom door and then came back to where I still sat on the bed. “Get some rest.” He kissed the top of my head. Somehow I managed to keep the tears in until he walked out, and I heard his car start out front. Then I let it all out. I cried and cried, until eventually I cried myself to sleep.
“What’s up, Gia?” Oak lifted his chin when I walked into work early for my shift. I hadn’t heard from Rush all day and hoped he’d be here so maybe we could talk again. The initial shock had probably turned into something different by now, and I wondered what he was feeling. His Mustang hadn’t been in the parking lot when Riley dropped me off, but my car was. He must’ve gotten it started somehow.
I went to the office and knocked. After waiting a few minutes, I took a deep breath and cracked the door open. Empty. My pulse sped up as I wandered around the main floor of the restaurant looking for him. Every time I thought he might be behind a door—in the kitchen, the supply room, the back—I held my breath as I took a peek. Each time he wasn’t there, I was disappointed and relieved at the same time.
On my way upstairs, the phone rang. I’d forgotten to grab it from the office where it normally sat on the charger on Rush’s desk overnight. But the sound was coming from the dining area. Someone had left it at the hostess station along with my car keys. I answered the phone and took a reservation for seven o’clock. A barstool that wasn’t usually at the hostess station was also set up there, though it wasn’t one of the ones from the bar. It was leather, and padded with a nice tall back. After the call, I stayed sitting in it for a few more minutes and practiced some deep breaths before heading to the stairs. The only place left where Rush could be was up on the rooftop bar.
But when I got upstairs, no one was around except for Oak. He was behind the bar changing out a beer keg. I walked over. “Oak? Do you know where Rush is?”
“Haven’t seen him since he dropped off your chair and car.”
My chair?
“He’s not here?”
“Nope.” He finished pushing the keg into its tight space and wiped his hands on a towel. “Figured you knew that. He left your car keys and that chair he bought. Said he was taking the night off.”
My stomach clenched. “Oh. Okay. Thank you.”
I sulked my way back down the stairs and went to dig my phone from my purse. I hadn’t checked it since I’d left the house. Maybe Rush had texted to let me know he wouldn’t be in tonight. Of course, deep down, I knew from the empty feeling in the pit of my stomach that there’d be no text. But that didn’t stop me from checking.
An overwhelming sadness came over me when I confirmed he hadn’t sent a text. I tried to tell myself that it didn’t mean anything. Rush just needed some time to let everything sink in. Who wouldn’t? It hadn’t truly sunk in for me yet either.
When Oak came back downstairs, I forced myself to get busy. Work would at least be a distraction. I did my usual pre-opening routine, although I set up my cellphone to vibrate when any new texts came in and then slipped it into my pocket while I went about getting everything ready for the night. Even though it never vibrated, I checked it incessantly anyway.