Rebel Heir (Rush Series Duet 1) - Page 61
“You don’t know how it fucking happened?”
My tears had been silent, but the bubble burst. Sobs shook my shoulders and weakened my legs as I lowered to the floor.
“Fuck,” Rush gritted.
“Fuck.”
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuucccck.”
Through my blurred vision, I saw him move, and for a few horrible seconds, I thought he was leaving, thought he was going to walk past me sitting on the floor and right out the front door. But then suddenly, I was in the air and in Rush’s arms. He scooped me up and carried me into my bedroom. Kicking the door closed behind him, he walked to the bed and gently set me down.
“We used protection. I swear we did. And it was only once. I’ve only had sex with one person in more than a year, one time and this happens.”
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 naïve 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.
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