“So like,” I set down my pen and shift in my chair. “This might seem insane, but I can see the difference between a normal grumpy mood and whatever this is…”
He sighs and plants his hands on the bar top as his head hangs between his arms in defeat. “Nothing’s wrong,” he says, but doesn’t make eye contact, and I can feel that he’s lying in my bones.
“Brighton,” I whisper.
He tilts his head to look at me.
“I’ll work it out,” he says.
“Oh come on, that only makes me wanna know more,” I push. It’s quiet in the bar, everyone is gone, and I’m starting to get used to it just being the two of us after close.
“I don’t want to talk about my ex-wife with my—” he swallows hard, and I narrow my eyes at him.
“I thought everything had settled down?” I ask, trying to ignore the way the word died on his lips.Say it, Brighton. You big, handsome coward.
“I thought so, but…” He pats his hand on the counter and stands up straight. “Daisy wants this dinner, and Riona nearly chewed off my head for planning it without asking her first. It just seems like no matter what I do, I’m still in the wrong.”
“Well, you probably are,” I say, and he scowls at me. “Just listen,” I laugh at his expression. “Everything I know about Riona is second-hand, from you, Daisy, Sunday. I don’t know what happened between you, but I can say from experience that when someone you love comes home different after being gone for a long time, it’s a hard pill to swallow.”
Brighton stares at me, and I know I’ve hit a chord, but there’s no turning back now.
“I talked to her…" I admit and the muscle in his jaw ticks violently. "I just—I can’t imagine loving someone enough to have a child with them and then having them come home completely changed,” I continue, and his expression pulls taught as his eyes grow dark. “I didn’t know you before, I’m just starting to get to know you now,” I say and offer him a nervous smile. “But Brighton, maybe she’s just adjusting?”
“I’ve been home a long time, Rhea.” His words are tight, but not angry.
“I can’t imagine seeing you around all the time is easy for her,” I advocate. “If it were me, having you, losing you, and watching you find your way back… that would hurt. It would make me resentful too, especially if things ended badly.”
“Do you want to know what happened?” His tone shifts. I know that I'm in trouble. “I came home and couldn’t look at her, couldn't touch her without shaking, and everything I said started a fight. I couldn’t hold Daisy without crying, I couldn’t even look Boone in the eyes without feeling like—” he stops,collecting himself.
I don’t move a muscle. I’ve never seen him string together that many sentences and in such an honest way before. It’s unnerving and overwhelming.
“I know why she resents me, and I don’t hate her for it. She earned that right.” He confirms, and something twists in my heart. His lack of self-awareness of how important he is to so many people is devastating. “I don’t love her anymore,” he assures me, misreading the look on my face, but I don’t have it in me to stop him now that he’s started. “Not like that. But she’s the mother of my child, and I hate that no matter what I do, she still pushes back. I can’t seem to make it right.”
“Have you told her that?” I ask him, and it causes him to pause.
“She wouldn’t want to hear it. Not now, it wouldn't mean anything.” He seems sure of that, but from what I know about Riona, that doesn’t sound like her. Riona took the shards of her broken heart and strung them into a suncatcher, the raw edges of her pain on display in the most beautiful way. Brighton’s just confused because he’s trying to put together the old pieces and keeps getting cut. I want to tell him to quit trying to destroy her art and instead admire it, but he wouldn’t understand the analogy even if I tried.
“So fixing the past isn’t how you make it right,” I push.
“No.” He admits.
“So whatareyou doing?” I question, and he paces away from me behind the bar, staring out the wide front windows that line the Hollow and give a view into the darkness of Harbor after midnight.
“Everything I can for Daisy,” he says after a moment. “It’s all for her.”
Paving a future she can be proud of.
I smile at him even if he can’t see it. All the tension eases from between his shoulder blades, and when he turns to look at me over his shoulder, there's a lightness to those soft blue eyes I haven’t seen all day.
“You’re a good Dad, Brighton,” I whisper. “Remember that.” I know from experience what makes someone worthy of the title, and despite everyone constantly making him question that, he tries, and that’s all that matters. I don’t think Riona hates him. Even if he believes that'strue, I think shemisseshim. And I don’t blame her, because once I got past all the walls he built, there was a simple man behind them, just wandering around in the dark trying to find his way back. The heavy realization hits me that I’d miss him, too, if I lost him like that. In the most vicious, resentful way.
Brighton just doesn’t understand that's the effect he has on people. He watches me, lips pressed into a tight line, his head nodding in agreement. The stretch of quiet that follows settles over us in a soft way, as if saying it out loud helped him release a little of the pent of rage he was feeling. I just hope I didn't push him too far.
“Are you almost done?” he asks after another beat, folding his arms over his chest.
“Yeah, why?” I relax a little, easing away the heavy conversation.
“Because after blurting out all the ways I fucked up my last relationship, I’d like to remind you how much I likeyou.” He says it with the same straight, hardened expression he always has, but it makes my chest warm. “If that’s alright with you?”
