Chapter 29 – Rhiannon #2
I look down at the earrings and then back in Eden’s eyes.
We know the significance of the earrings.
They’re the exact ones my mom had been wearing the night of the accident that took her and my father’s life.
They’ve always been beautiful to me and a thread keeping us connected.
And when they’d considered burying her in them, I said no so that I could keep them for Eden one day.
She has my mom’s same green eyes and someday soon, I’ll give them to her when she’s ready. Maybe on her wedding day.
She smiles and nods reassuringly.
I take the two small gems into my hand, their cool weight grounding me as I stare at them for a moment. Then, with deliberate steps, I walk to my dresser, pull out the container where they’ve been stored for the past eight years, and drop them inside. The lid snaps shut with finality.
“Not tonight,” I whisper, as I look at the closed container. Because that isn’t just jewelry to me, and Rebel doesn’t deserve to see them. Neither do I.
She gives me a quick hug before heading off to her room to study, leaving me alone with just my reflection in the mirror.
I’ve always been confident in my appearance.
I know that I can attract most men’s attention with a little effort.
But my parents’ death took more from me than just their presence—it shattered something deep inside me.
My sense of purpose. A part of me started to believe that I’m unlovable, undeserving of joy or anything good.
My reality became a duty, and my worth was intricately tied to that: to raise Eden, to keep my parents’ family business thriving, to put dinner on the table every night, the laundry done and to ensure Eden graduates debt-free from college—just as they would have wanted.
Somewhere along the way, in fulfilling everyone else’s dreams, I’ve lost sight of myself and the only time that I’ve seen glimpses of the old Rhiannon, has been when I’m with Cain.
Tonight should feel like another step towards financial freedom and my family’s future. But it doesn’t. Because tonight, I’ll be pretending again. When really all I want to do is be with Cain wherever he is.
I shove that thought down as far as it will go, plastering on a practiced smile in the mirror.
Because if I dwell on the reality that the only man that I’ve been my authentic self with recently is Cain, I’ll do something reckless again.
Like hop on a flight to the west coast to see him when I can’t afford that.
Grabbing my purse, I head out the door to catch the train to NYC. My phone buzzes in my palm as I get settled in one of the seats with a message from Cain.
Cain: Text me when you leave your meeting with Rebel tonight.
Cain: I know you don’t owe me an answer about what I said until I get back, but I miss you.
Two hours later, I’m stepping off the platform and onto the bustling streets, weaving through the crowd of people as I make my way to the restaurant that Rebel reserved for our meeting.
When I spot him waiting at the entrance, he’s leaning casually against the doorway, sunglasses disguising his eyes, joint cooly placed between two of his tattooed fingers.
His midnight-black hair is slicked back, and his outfit is understated yet looks expensive. For a moment, I let myself hope that maybe I won’t have to fake it tonight and can even have a little fun.
“Hello, love,” he greets me, his voice carrying the faintest trace of a British accent that makes the words feel like a caress. He leans down, his lips brushing my cheek in a gentle kiss, before straightening and guiding me inside with an easy confidence.
The restaurant he’s chosen is far more upscale than anywhere I’d ever dream of going on my own. It’s a sleek blend of Asian fusion with a distinct NYC edge, the air humming with sophistication and the upcoming holiday season.
Lanterns hang gracefully from the ceiling, casting a warm, inviting glow over the space, while soft, melodic music drifts through the room, adding to the ambiance.
Our server leads us toward a table tucked near the back, offering just enough privacy to feel intimate without being completely hidden away.
“Good evening. My name is Al. What can I get you to drink tonight?” our server asks.
“I’ll take a glass of Yamazaki,” Rebel orders.
“I’ll just have a glass of your red wine,” I respond with a smile. When the server leaves, I pick up the menu, but Rebel stops me.
“I’m glad we could reschedule. You know, I’ve never had a woman cancel on me before.”
I smile, feeling embarrassed. “I’m sorry about that. Something came up with work.”
He nods, his sunglasses still firmly in place over his eyes.
It’s a bit unnerving sitting across from him in a dimply lit restaurant and not being able to see where he’s looking.
I don’t know why he won’t remove them, but I’ve never met up with someone this famous before outside of work. This could be totally normal behavior.
“I understand the demands of having a career that pulls you away at the worst times,” he replies.
I smile as our server drops off our drinks. “Thank you for rescheduling, because I’m really excited to learn more about the line that you’re launching. Will you tell me about your vision for it?”
He sits back in his chair. “Before we get to that, why don’t you tell me about yourself.”
“Oh… sure. Well, modeling is just a part time gig for me right now. Most of my time is split between three other jobs.”
“Wow, you have a lot on your plate. What all do you do?”
I decide to keep my explanation brief, just touching on their titles and ending with my role as a therapist.
Rebel raises his brow. “A sex therapist? Do you watch other people have sex?”
I bite down on my lip, trying not to laugh. “No. I help provide supports to couples and individuals on sexual and intimacy issues.”
“Damn, I bet you’ve seen some freaky things. Do you get to watch?”
Did he even listen to what I just said?
“Um, no. It’s more about working on communication and non-sexual intimacy.”
He pulls off his sunglasses for the first time tonight, and I finally get a glimpse of those blue eyes that I haven’t seen since the music video shoot. But the moment his gaze lands on mine, I feel uncomfortable and like I’d rather be anywhere else but here.
His eyes are red, glassy, and unfocused, as if he’s looking straight through me rather than at me.
Whether it’s alcohol, drugs, or something else entirely, it’s obvious something isn’t right.
The vibrant, magnetic energy I remembered on set is absent, replaced by a hollow detachment that sends a chill down my spine.
Cain’s words run through my mind about Rebel’s history with women and how I need to be careful around him.
I clear my throat, forcing myself to stay composed and get the conversation back on track.
But as I sit here, face to face with him, any trace of excitement that I’d felt about modeling for him earlier fizzles out completely. Instead, I feel disinterested, wishing I was with Cain instead.
“I’m very open-minded, but as mentioned before, I’m not watching anyone do anything sexual. It’s about talking and coming up with plans of action for resolving relationship issues. Things are kept strictly professional with my clients.”
Unless it’s with Cain. My subconscious berates me, and I internally roll my eyes. Thankfully, Rebel doesn’t seem to notice since our server’s returned to take our meal orders. When he leaves, Rebel’s eyes catch on someone he knows from across the restaurant.
“Can’t wait to hear more about that,” he says, half standing from his seat. “I’m going to go say hi to Devina over there. I’ll be right back.”
And without waiting for any sort of acknowledgement from me, he stands and leaves the table, making a beeline straight for a beautiful woman with long, raven black hair that lands at her hips.
I sit there waiting awkwardly, fidgeting nervously while I take a few more sips of my drink and then pull out my phone to check the time and any missed messages. Of course, my eyes widen when I see the first one is from Cain.
Cain: How are things going with Rebel?
I start typing.
Rhiannon: They’re
But I can’t finish the message and hit send too soon. My vision blurs and my fingers feel like I’m wearing fuzzy mittens.
What’s happening?
I look down at my drink, noticing that I’ve only drank half of it. It’s just a glass of red wine; there’s no way I could be drunk off it already.
I fumble my phone, watching it slip right through my fingers and clatter to the ground. When I bend to grab it, the room tilts, a slow, uneasy spin that has me blinking hard as I sit back up. The dizziness hits deeper this time, settling low in my stomach.
Just then, Rebel comes back to the table. His sunglasses are back on, that wide, easy smile plastered across his face like he didn’t just leave me sitting here unraveling.
“Hey, you want to get out of here? Devina says there’s a party nearby at her friend’s apartment. They have food and drinks there so we can skip out on this bill.”
I’m starving, having not eaten all morning in anticipation of our date, but I can tell Rebel isn’t interested in waiting until after our food gets delivered to join his friend.
Plus, I’m not longer sure I even want this modeling gig anymore. Something about this whole situation feels off and not in a good way.
Maybe that’s why I’m dizzy. I’m just hungry.
“Uh… sure…” I can’t tell whether I’m slurring my words or maybe they just sound slower in my head. “Give me a second, please. I need to run to the restroom first.”
I push to my feet, stumbling a little as I make my way toward the back of the restaurant.
By the time I reach one of the stall doors in the women’s room, my stomach is churning.
I slip inside, drop to my knees, and bend over the toilet, dry heaving, trying to breathe through the wave of nausea rolling through me.
The door to the bathroom opens and shuts, footsteps echoing softly across the tile. A voice follows, right as I’m trying to pull myself together.
“Excuse me.”
“Hello?” I manage to croak out.
“I saw you out there with that guy. I recognize him, it’s the rocker, Rebel XOXO, isn’t it?” the soft voice asks me.
“I can’t… I can’t open the door,” I slur, my vision tunneling now. There are black spots at the edge of my eyes and my head’s pounding.
A few seconds later, the door rattles then pops open and I see a blonde woman who looks like she’s my age but with very worried, wide eyes.
“I don’t mean to pry, but are you okay? I saw the guy you’re with drop something in your drink when you weren’t looking. It was really quick, so I couldn’t be sure, but you didn’t look so hot walking in here and if you were one of my friends, I know that I’d follow you to be sure you were fine.”
That fucker…
The whole bathroom spins as I try to get off my knees to stand but my legs won’t work, and I can hardly form words to respond.
“I…I…”
My eyes close and I feel like I’m going to fall asleep as everything fades in and out.
“Oh.” She curses a few times, and I hear a thump like she’s trying to catch me. Did I fall? I don’t feel anything. “Hey. Is there someone I can call for you?” she asks urgently as I point at my purse.
I murmur my phone passcode. “Gabriel.” I get out before I fade out again.
The next time I open my eyes it’s because my brother is in the bathroom stall of the restaurant next to the woman and he’s helping me stand.
“Thank you,” I hear him say. “Is the guy she was with still here?”
Blonde girl laughs nervously. “No, I saw him duck out earlier.”
I can’t tell whether she’s lying or sparing me a scene, but either way I’m thankful as I rest against my brother’s chest, feeling like I’ve let him and the people I love most down again.