by Jiffy Kate
“Try me.”
She closes her eyes and begins. “After my dad died, Daniel was as lost as I was. He was the man we both depended on, and without him here, we were both drifting… trying to find our way… trying to figure out how to go on without him. His death left a big hole everywhere—the hospital, home… life. After a few weeks, Daniel came over for dinner. My mom insisted that we all continue to do the things my father would’ve wanted, which included family dinners. She said that’s the way we would keep his memory alive, by carrying on.” Quinn pauses, looking out to where Henry is, watching him. Her voice is a little shaky, so I rub the backs of her hands, encouraging her to continue.
“Eventually, things at the hospital started to go back to normal, and Daniel and I spent more and more time together. Without my dad there as a middle man, the two of us started leaning on each other. Any time I would miss my dad or wish he was there for me to ask a question or something like that, I’d turn to Daniel. Anytime Daniel was feeling lonely or needed a friend, he’d come find me. We’d sneak down empty corridors to talk, but after a while, the talks turned into more. I can’t really say when my feelings toward him turned romantic, but I guess somewhere between heartache and healing, they did.” She pauses and dread seeps into my bones.
“We talked about moving in together, but I didn’t want to leave my mom by herself. Daniel understood and never pressured me into anything. One day, Daniel said he’d been offered a job at a hospital up north—head of cardiac, exactly what my dad had been molding him for. And two weeks later, he left.”
We sit there quietly. Pieces of the puzzle start falling into place, but my heart doesn’t allow my head to jump to conclusions. I need to hear it from her.
“I found out I was pregnant with Henry a week after Daniel left.”
She swallows hard and looks down at where our hands are laced together. “I wanted to tell him, but it never seemed like the right time. After a few weeks, he stopped calling. Somewhere deep inside, I felt like I was doing the right thing by letting him go. The hospital needed him. This was what he’d worked so hard for. Telling him about Henry seemed like a bad idea.”
Her gaze turns back to the little boy, and I can’t imagine why she would think telling Daniel about Henry would ever be a bad idea. He’s such an amazing kid. Anybody would be lucky to be his dad. “If Daniel wouldn’t have wanted him, it would’ve killed me. If Daniel would’ve wanted him and left the position to move back here, I would’ve felt guilty. I was still mourning the loss of my father. I couldn’t mourn the loss of Daniel. I had a baby to think about.”
“What did your mom say?”
“She wanted me to tell him, but she let me do what I thought was best.”
I nod, trying to process the information I’ve been given and wondering what this means for us, but I’m too afraid to ask.
“She’s been wonderful. I don’t know what I would have done without her. But she says Henry saved her. He gave her something to focus on when all she wanted to do was crawl in bed and never come out. She’s always been a devoted mother and now an even more devoted grandmother. She’d do anything for him.”
I can tell Quinn is still avoiding something. She starts shifting on the bench and biting her lip.
“What does all of this mean?” I finally ask.
“Daniel will be back on Tuesday.”
“For good?”
She shrugs, looking a little lost and confused and I hate every second of it. “I guess. He’s taking over my dad’s position at the hospital.”
“And?”
“I’m going to have to tell him about Henry… I want to tell him about Henry.”
I nod, agreeing. “That’s good. I think you should.” I let myself take a breath and ease back a little. Maybe that’s all this is. She just needed to get this off her chest.
“All I’ve ever wanted was a family for Henry… a real family, with a mom and dad, living in the same house. I want what I had… family dinners and game nights. I’ve always dreamed that Daniel would come back, and when he found out about Henry, he’d want all of that too.”
And there it is—the shoe I’ve felt hanging in the air, waiting to drop for the last couple of weeks.
Thud.
When I look up and meet her eyes, there are unshed tears in them.
“I don’t want to have regrets, Jude,” she pleads, begging for my understanding. “I feel like giving Daniel a chance is what’s right. It would make my dad happy.”
“Will it make you happy?” The bit of anger and a whole lot of frustration bites through my words. “Is that what you want or what you think your dad would want?”
Quinn’s back stiffens and she sits up straighter. “It’s what I want. It’s what’s best for Henry. He’s my top priority. I have to give this a chance.”
I turn to look at Henry and Fergie. Henry looks our way and smiles a big toothy grin. He deserves to be happy. He deserves everything Quinn was talking about. I’d be a horrible human being if I tried to keep him from that.
“Okay, then,” I concede, trying not to sound as broken as I feel.
“He’s going to miss this,” she says sadly.
I swallow down the lump in my throat, refusing to show her any more of myself than I already have. “I’m going to miss this,” I admit, unable to stop the words from coming out of my mouth. Right behind them are things like I love you… choose me… let me make you happy. But I swallow those down as well.
“Thank you,” she whispers, wiping at her cheek. “For everything.”
I want to reply, but my words and emotions are caught in my throat.
I want to tell her so many things, but I don’t because we agreed… don’t get attached.
Leaning forward, I place a kiss on Quinn’s temple, breathing her in one last time.
“Be happy, Quinn. Let yourself love.”
She hiccups a sob, and I can’t stick around to watch it. My resolve will crumble at her feet.
“Fergie,” I yell, calling her over. She and her partner-in-crime come running. When they get to the bench, I ruffle Henry’s hair and tilt his head up to look at me. “Take care of your mom, okay?”
“Okay,” he says, a hint of confusion in his big brown eyes.
“Fergie, tell Henry bye.”
The two of them kiss on each other, and I want to scoop Henry up into a big hug, but I don’t.
I can’t.
“Bye, Quinn.”
She gives me a sad smile and waves, pulling Henry to her.
This time, it’s her watching me leave, but it doesn’t feel any better.
My heart still wants her.
Chapter 18
“Are you going to work all night again?” Sebastian asks, standing in the doorway of my office.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
I stretch back in my chair, staring at the blank blue screen. I’m not actually working on anything at the moment, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“You should call it a night, bro. Too much work makes Jude grumpy.”
“I’m fine.” I yawn and stretch. “I’ll probably take a break and go get some coffee or something,” I assure him, just wanting him to leave already.
He finally lets out a long sigh and puts his coat on. “Whatever you say. Don’t forget we have that meeting with Mr. Jones in the morning. I hope you’re not wearing the same thing you are now.”
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I ask, looking down at my shirt. It’s not dirty.
“Nothing, other than that was what you were wearing yesterday.”
I roll my eyes and pick up a piece of paper to wad up and throw at him, but he ducks out before I can. He’s right. I slept here last night. My sister went to my apartment and picked up Fergie for me, letting her run around in her backyard and sleep over. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind doing that for me again tonight.
Looking out the window at the city below, I let my eyes travel across the tops of the buildings to on
e in particular. Before, it was like a beacon in the night, but now, it’s a thorn in my side, reminding me of everything I’ve lost.
I try to not go there, even in my mind, but it betrays me.
Even when I try to think of anything but her, I still somehow end up thinking of her. Everything reminds me of her—a text message, a random Monday night, a random Tuesday night, having a drink, eating a burger. It feels like there’s nothing I can do to escape her memory.
But maybe I’m not trying hard enough.
Then again, maybe I don’t want to.
It’s only been three weeks, but they’ve been the worst three weeks of my life. I don’t know how I let myself fall so hard for her. She never promised me anything. We only had an agreement, and that agreement had nothing to do with commitment or love, but by God, I felt both… committed and in love. Maybe I should’ve told her. That thought crosses my mind about a hundred times a day. What if? What if I would’ve asked her to stay with me? What if I would’ve told her how I felt… feel? What if I would’ve said no?
No, Quinn. You can’t try with Daniel. He’ll never love you like I do. He’ll never love Henry like I do.
I laugh harshly at myself and the stupidity that runs through my mind.
There’s no way I would’ve done that. The crazy thing is that I love her so much I’m willing to let her go. I can’t begrudge the fact she wants to give Henry a family. He deserves one. And I can’t hold it against Quinn for wanting to try to make up for past mistakes. I actually admire her for being willing to be honest and upfront with me, for finally opening up. She could’ve kept fucking me while seeing if things with Daniel worked out. I probably would’ve never known. But she didn’t. And I’m still trying to get over the goodbye.
I’m sure I will, in time.
It’s not like she left me at the altar or anything. She didn’t cheat on me. She didn’t tell me she loved me and then took it back. She didn’t tell me I could love her. I did that all on my own. So if there’s anyone to blame for this heartache I can’t seem to get rid of, it’s me.
Just as I’m getting ready to make a call to Lucy, my phone rings, and I jump.
Every fucking time.
My stupid fucking heart must still think there’s a chance or some shit, because it never fails that if my phone makes the slightest noise, I jump and look at it like it’s going to solve the world’s problems or at least ease the pain and emptiness in my chest.
“Hi, Lucy,” I say, exhaustion evident in my raspy tone.
“Your dog misses you.”
I grimace, thankful she can’t see me. I know this isn’t Fergie’s fault, but when I look at her, all I see is Henry, which leads directly to Quinn. To me, they are a package deal.
“I have to work late,” I tell her, lying through my teeth. There is nothing pressing on the desk in front of me. Actually, I’m so caught up, I’m doing the slacker-ass intern’s work.
Lucy lets out a sad sigh. “Okay,” she says, pausing a minute before continuing. “Will you be home tomorrow night? It’s Friday.”
It’s a good thing she told me, because I honestly wasn’t sure what day today was.
“Uh, yeah.”
“Okay, I’ll drop Fergie off around seven. Will and I have dinner reservations at this new place downtown at seven thirty.”
“Okay. And thanks for keeping her, Lucy.”
“You’re welcome.”
We both sit in silence, neither of us saying goodbye. Maybe she’s waiting for me to hang up. Maybe I’m doing the same. Regardless, the phone is quiet, and I stare out the window again, letting my brain drift away.
“You can’t keep doing this.”
“I know.”
“Mom won’t let you miss another Sunday dinner.”
“I know.”
“I love you.”
“Love you too, Luce.”
The phone goes quiet again, but this time it’s because Lucy hung up. I finally do the same and then loosen my tie. Looking around my office, I realize I am actually tired. Maybe I’ll go catch a few hours of sleep on Sebastian’s couch in his office.
I walk down the dark hallway, stopping by the break room and peeking through everyone’s takeout boxes of leftovers. There’s one marked “DM” in black marker. I crack the box and take a whiff. When the contents of the box register with my empty stomach, it growls audibly, begging for the beef fajitas inside. I can’t remember the last time I had a full meal. I’ve been living off of Hot Pockets and granola bars.
Popping the box in the microwave, I decide DM won’t mind. DM can suck it if he does. I’ve been doing DM’s work for the last fucking week. He owes me this much.
When the microwave shuts off, I pull out the hot fajitas, grab a fork, and go to Sebastian’s office.
There on the couch is a folded-up blanket and a pillow.
He must’ve brought it from home.
I don’t know why, but the gesture hits me right in the gut.
I pull my phone out of my pocket with my free hand and open up my text messages.
Thanks for the pillow and blanket.
You’re welcome. It was Lexie’s idea.
You told Lexie I’m sleeping at the office?
Stop sleeping at the fucking office and you won’t have to worry about it.
I roll my eyes and pocket my phone, falling onto the plush couch. Damn, I should’ve gotten one of these instead of a fucking pool table.
Chapter 19
“Have you tried talking to her?” Sebastian asks from the other side of the small table at the café down the street from our office.
I take another drink from my coffee and continue to watch people walk past the large window, trying to avoid Sebastian’s nosy-ass questions. “No.”
“Don’t you think it might be a good idea? I mean, you can’t continue to mope around all the time. It’s not good for you, and it’s not good for business. Do you know Mr. Jones told Mr. Wallace that he thinks you’re depressed?”
Snapping my head toward Sebastian, I frown. “What?”
“Yeah, he said his wife is a psychologist and you’re a textbook example of someone dealing with depression.”
“How the fuck would he know?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because the two of you have been working side by side on this new account for the past two weeks.”
Sitting up straighter in an effort to defend myself, I protest. “I’ve been nothing but professional.”
“And withdrawn,” he retorts. “You hardly eat. You barely sleep. And I’m not the only one who notices that you wear the same shirt and tie for days in a row.”
“I do my fucking job,” I say through gritted teeth, leaning forward on the table. I don’t need anyone telling me what’s going on in my fucking head. My head is fine. I sit back in my chair and direct my gaze back out the window, muttering to myself, “I do my fucking job.”
“We all know you do your fucking job, but that’s about all you do these days.”
“None of the rest of it is anybody else’s business.”
This time it’s Sebastian who snaps. “It’s mine. I’m your best friend, man.” His voice increases in volume, drawing the attention from a few patrons. “I’m not going to sit around and watch you be miserable over some chick. I’ve never seen you like this. You’ve gotta snap out of it and get a grip. Go on a date. Get laid. But for the love of God, quit with this heartbroken Romeo and Juliet bullshit.”
“Romeo and Juliet died,” I say blankly.
He leans forward on the table. “Well, sometimes I think I need to check your pulse.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Make me.”
The two of us sit there, stewing in our own annoyance with each other.
“You should talk to her,” Sebastian finally says after a while. “I think that’s what has you so twisted up. You didn’t get to tell her how you feel.”
Just the mention of talking to Quinn has my insides twisted up. “And wha
t then? Huh?”
“At least she’ll know, and you won’t have all these fucking regrets.”
“And what if she’s happy?” I ask putting all my fears on the table.
Sebastian sits back, staring across the table with an unreadable expression. “She’ll tell you it was nice knowing you, and that’s that.”
“I’m not going to complicate matters and make things harder for her. You didn’t see how upset she was. It’d be a dick move,” I tell him, my mind pulling up a vivid picture of a distraught Quinn. “I can’t do that to her.”
Sebastian’s frustration grows and then morphs into something else entirely. “What if she’s not happy? What if she realizes the error of her ways and wants you back but she’s afraid she’s ruined everything?”
“I don’t know.”
He watches me for a second and I avert my gaze out the window, feeling the pressure of his scrutiny. “Does that scare you?” he asks, getting to the bottom of it. “Is that what you’re afraid of?”
When I don’t respond, he pushes further. “And you love her?”
“Yes,” I admit, because why the fuck not. This is Sebastian after all, and he won’t stop until he has all the facts.
“Still?” he asks, prodding.
Exhaling, I run a hand through my already messed up hair. “Yes. Probably more than I did before… all of that absence makes the heart grow fonder shit has some validity to it.”
“Well, then you owe it to her and yourself to get your head out of your ass and go talk to her.”
Unable to admit that what he’s saying feels right. I should go talk to her. I want to. But I’m afraid of everything—what seeing her might do to me, what she might say, what she won’t say… everything. “What the fuck ever,” I mumble, partially to him and partially to myself.
“You know I’m right.”
I shake my head, refusing to tell Sebastian he’s right.
He’s the last person on earth who needs his ego stroked.
Sitting in my car, warming my hands with a cup of somewhat hot coffee, I feel like an undercover cop. You know those movies where the cops sit out in front of a criminal’s house or place of work, waiting to catch them in the act? Like that.
