Page 77 of That Weekend in Paris
“It’s an excellent idea, all things considered.”
“Are you okay?” I ask, realizing we’d skipped all the preliminaries of admitting that to this point, we’ve never even spoken to each other before.
“I’m doing well, yes, but there is something I would like to discuss with you. Can you come this morning?”
Every instinct inside me screams that the answer should be no, or that I should at least check with Klein first, but something else, maybe something as basic as curiosity, has me saying, “Yes. What time?”
“An hour or so would be great,” she says, and gives me the room number.“Thank you, Dillon,” she adds, and hangs up.
I sit for a moment staring at the phone screen, sure that I should call Klein’s number and tell him about this request. But I don’t.It’s a short drive from the house I’ve lived in with Josh to the hospital. With traffic, it takes me less than fifteen minutes. I park my car in the hospital garage, take the elevator to the lobby, and then another elevator to the floor where Riley’s room is. My stomach has become a knot of nerves, and a wave of nausea has me stopping by a restroom and splashing cold water on my face. I grab a paper towel, dab away the water and stare at my pale complexion in the mirror.
This is crazy. It makes no sense at all. So why am I doing it? I have no answer for the question except to leave the restroom and walk the short corridor to Riley’s room number. I stop at the partially closed door, take a deep breath, and rap once.
“Come in.”
I push the door open and step into the room. I’m not sure what I expected, but it isn’t to see Riley in bed looking as if she just stepped out of a salon. She is undeniably beautiful with thick, shoulder-length blonde hair and long-lashed blue eyes. I feel instantly frumpy.
“Thank you for coming, Dillon,” Riley says. “Please, sit down.”
I take the chair near the bed, and say, “I’m glad to see that you’re okay. And the baby?”
“Our baby is fine,” she says. “Klein’s and mine.”
I give this a pause, pretty sure I know where we’re going. “If you asked me here to make sure that I’m aware of what’s between you and Klein, there was no need to do that. I have no holds on Klein.”
“That’s very nice to hear,” Riley says. “After I became aware of the two of you meeting up in Paris and saw the photo of you, I thought it might be something other than friendship.”
I start to deny it but realize I’m not going to lie to her. Klein and I aren’t anything now, but what we might’ve become, I don’t know. And so I simply wait for her to speak.
“Look, Dillon. I know this is awkward, but Klein and I have pretty significant history, and now we have a child together.”
I try to stop myself. I know I should, but the words are out before I can stop them. “So why did you lie to him?”
My question takes her by surprise. I’m not sure if it’s because she thinks Klein would not have told me this, or that I have the gumption to ask her. Either way, a spurt of anger flashes through her eyes, and she says, “Is that really any of your business?”
“I consider Klein a friend and a truly good man. Yeah, I kind of think it is.”
She gives me a long considering look, as if she’s trying to weigh the likelihood of my being an actual adversary. When she finally replies, her voice is deliberately low and even. “I was hoping once you knew about the baby, you would understand anything that might have happened between Klein and me before this as being just the kind of thing people go through when they’re trying to figure out whether they belong together or not. I wasn’t sure that Klein wanted to be with me because he loved me or if it would only be because of the baby. I guess I thought that mattered, but what I realize now is the only thing that really matters is that Noelle has two parents who truly love her.”
“And you do,” I ask, “love her?”
The anger that flashes across Riley’s face now is something altogether different from the smoldering embers she let me see a few moments ago. This one is involuntary, as if it has risen up from some bottomless volcano pit, outrage at its flaming tip. “I think you are deceiving me, Dillon. I think that you want Klein for yourself, and you’re jealous of what he and I now have. Something I understand you probably can’t give him.”
The jab takes its intended aim, stabbing me in the heart as only truth can. “How do you know that?”
“Rumors in Nashville are usually fairly reliable. I can see that they weren’t wrong this time. I’m sorry that you’ve had cancer. That isn’t something I would wish on anyone. However, we all have our crosses to bear in this life. I’ve certainly had mine, not the same as yours, I’m sure, but mine all the same. Poverty is something I never intend to live again, and Klein and I will be able to give this little angel everything her heart desires.”
I listen to the words as something awful settles over me. A question that comes out of nowhere. What exactly would Riley do to keep him? I know she lied about not keeping the baby. What else?
“Does Klein feel the same?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“Does he intend to raise Noelle as you’ve just said?”
“Klein will do whatever I want him to, and of course, he’s already madly in love with her. Why wouldn’t he give her whatever she wants or needs?”
“I have no doubt of Klein’s love for her, but sometimes love is about more than possessions.”
