by Max Monroe
After being delayed by eight hours yesterday, flying through the night, and arriving home from the airport just before morning rush-hour traffic would’ve started to hit the highways, I’d attempted to lie down and get some much-needed sleep before I’d have to leave for my afternoon flight to Cincinnati.
Just yesterday, I’d experienced the most uncomfortable meeting of the parents in my entire life, and I still couldn’t really process what happened.
The car ride from his hometown to the airport had been silent, both of us reflective and lost in our own thoughts. The flight hadn’t been any different and couldn’t have gone any worse, considering we’d been delayed and only had time for a quick goodbye before Quinn had to rush off to the stadium.
It felt like the number of words we’d exchanged easily could have been counted with two hands.
And after overhearing the things his parents had said about me, I wasn’t really sure what to do or say. Hell, I wasn’t sure there was anything I could say or do in that situation to make it better or provide some semblance of reassurance.
They didn’t like me. That was clear as water.
Their reasoning why, on the other hand, might as well have been covered in mud.
Was it the fact that I was a flight attendant?
My age? My skin color?
I guessed it could have been any of those things. Or it might not have been any of them. But the idea that it could have been an issue of race and the color of my skin was the most painful.
I was proud of my skin. I was proud that my mother was a strong African-American woman with beautiful, dark skin. And I was proud that my father was a playful Irishman with a golden smile and a white complexion that almost always burned underneath the sun’s rays.
My roots were my roots. And I wouldn’t change them for anything.
But even though I had my suspicions, I still didn’t really know why Mr. and Mrs. Bailey were so visibly frigid toward me.
When I took into account how charismatic, warm, and openly friendly their son was to anyone and everyone he met, their cold demeanors were nothing like I’d expected.
But no matter what I’d expected or what had occurred, I had no idea what was going through Quinn’s mind. His family was important to him. And it was very apparent they were not thrilled that his girlfriend was me.
I’d called him when I’d gotten home from the airport this morning and settled in, hoping we’d be able to put a swift end to the dark cloud that had enveloped us. I’d wanted to talk to him. I’d wanted to hear his voice and his thoughts and find the fucking sun.
But, just as I’d suspected he would be, he’d been too busy to answer.
All I could do now was wait for him to call me when he was done with all things New York Mavericks.
As I tossed from left to right and then back again, my legs got caught up in my sheets, and I struggled to untangle them. With an audible groan, I kicked myself out of my inadvertent restraint and sat up in bed.
I glanced at the clock. 2:00 p.m. I’d literally spent hours in this bed, and I was certain I hadn’t slept a wink. My mind was too on edge, and anxiety had my heart pounding inside of my chest like a hummingbird’s wings.
Giving in to the madness, and knowing it was time to get ready, I slid out of bed. The hardwood floor of my bedroom was cool against my feet as I walked into my closet and pulled out my suitcase. I had an early evening flight to catch to Cincinnati for RoyalAir’s quarterly flight attendant training, and I still needed to shower and pack.
As I unzipped my empty suitcase and threw it onto my bed, my eyes caught sight of Times Square painted in colorful hues of red and blue and orange and purple.
It was the painting from our first date.
Quinn’s colorful version was in the living room, hanging proudly on my mantel.
My heart ached at the mere memory of us, together, laughing and painting while Stella tried to teach us how to create a New York cityscape. The muscles in my chest tightened and constricted like a noose, and I forced a deep inhale of oxygen into my lungs to relieve the pressure.
God, this is awful.
I had no idea what was going to happen, where Quinn and I would go from here. I didn’t know if we were still an us; I didn’t know if we could still be an us. And the uncertainty of our future, of the state of our relationship, only stirred insecurities, allowing them to pick the lock on the deep recesses of my brain.
Why would he want to be with me? He’s a fucking NFL quarterback… He’s a celebrity… Millions of people adore him… His family doesn’t even like me… We both travel so much…
It was a vicious fucking cycle.
God, I just wanted to be with Quinn.
But I also didn’t want to feel so fucking insecure either.
Flying through the sky at five hundred miles per hour, I felt like my mind was racing faster than the plane I was buckled inside. With Cincinnati as our destination, Nikki, Casey, and I were heading toward RoyalAir’s headquarters for our training.
I should’ve been enjoying the fact that I was inside of a plane but I didn’t have to handle passenger issues or pass out drinks and snacks.
I should’ve been laughing and joking around with my best friends.
I should’ve been excited that I’d get to see my parents.
But I was none of those things.
The clusterfuck of emotions that came along with the current uncertainty over my relationship with Quinn had made it impossible to feel any emotion besides melancholy.
“Girl,” Casey said on a sigh. “You have got to tell us what’s going on.”
I looked up from my magazine and saw both Casey and Nikki staring in my direction from the seats beside mine.
“Nothing’s going on.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’ve been quiet the entire flight. And you’ve flipped through that Cosmo at least four times, and I don’t even think you’ve read a single word of it. Something is up, girlfriend. Spit it out already.”
I sighed and rested my head against the seat.
Nikki offered a reassuring smile. “You can tell us anything, Cat. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”
I nodded. “I know that.”
“Did something happen with Quinn?” she asked, and I nodded again.
Casey furrowed his brow in confusion. “But I thought things were going good…?”
“They were,” I answered, and I could already feel the liquid emotion forming behind my eyes. I hated that I was so fucking emotional over the whole thing, but I couldn’t help it. Quinn was important to me. I wanted him in my life. But I had no idea where we stood. It hurt like a motherfucker, to say the least. “I met his family yesterday, and well, it just didn’t really go all that great.”
“What do you mean? How could it have gone badly? You’re like a walking, talking ray of adorable sunshine. Everyone who meets you adores you.”
“Well, if you really believe that, I can tell you that Quinn’s parents are the exception to that rule.”
Nikki’s mouth turned down at the corners. “It went that bad?”
“It was pretty much the worst-case scenario,” I said, and before a tear could slip past my eyes, I quickly swiped and rubbed at them.
Do not cry, Cat. We’re about ten minutes away from landing; now is not the ideal time to have a mental breakdown.
“I don’t really understand…” Casey said and then paused, looking at Nikki and then looking at me. “What exactly happened, pretty girl? What makes you think it went as terribly as it did?”
“Well…” I began, and pretty much word-vomited the entire summary of events to them. I told them everything, how cold his mother had been. How his father had done everything in his power not to stay in the same room with me. I even told them the worst part, the one that included me eavesdropping on their conversation in their garage.
And with each added detail, Casey’s and Nikki’s facial expressions changed. From reassuring to confused to shocked to c
ompletely disheartened, I watched each emotion cross their faces before getting replaced by another.
“So…” Casey muttered once I’d finished. “Well…” He paused again and stared at me with tender eyes. “What…What did Quinn say about all of it?”
“I think we were both too shocked by how it went. We didn’t really talk about it then,” I answered honestly. “And we haven’t had a chance to talk about it since. By the time we’d gotten home from our delayed flight, he had to head to the stadium, and then, after I tried to manage some sleep, I had to catch this flight.”
“Wow,” Casey mumbled.
“Yeah. Wow,” I agreed. “It was pretty much a disaster, and now, I have no idea where we stand.”
“I wish I had something valuable to say here,” Nikki said in a quiet voice and reached out her hand to hold mine, resting it on her thigh. “But I just don’t really know the right words…”
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “The fact that you guys were concerned and let me unload all of my drama on to you was enough. It’s a relief not keeping all of that bottled up inside.”
“We’re here for you, pretty girl,” Casey whispered, leaning over and adding his hand to the pile. “Anything you need. Hugs. Cuddles. Hookers. Booze. We’re here.”
I giggled at that. “I’m good on the hookers, but I might take you up on the hugs and cuddles once we get to the hotel,” I said, and then added, “Hell, maybe the booze too.”
He winked. “Don’t worry. I got you, girl.”
In that moment, even though my heart was aching and my brain was racing with insecurities, I was grateful—so fucking thankful for such amazing and supportive friends.
Twenty-four hours ago, I’d landed in Cincinnati and dived headfirst into all things RoyalAir. Our first day of training had been a whirlwind of meetings, presentations, and hands-on training with the newest pieces of airplane equipment that would soon be implemented on all RoyalAir aircrafts.
Work had been a much-needed distraction. I’d lost myself completely in my job, and for a short while, my brain had let the whole Quinn dilemma rest.
By the time I’d arrived in Cincinnati, jet-lagged and tired as hell, I’d seen the missed call from Quinn. I’d had all intentions of talking to him once I’d checked into my hotel and found some privacy, away from Casey and Nikki.
But my sleepless night had caught up with me, and I’d pretty much passed out the instant I’d stepped into my hotel room. And then, today, when I woke up, I had to be at training bright and early.
I had tried to call him back, though, before I’d started my day, but knew before I’d even tapped his contact on my phone he was most likely occupied in the Mavericks weight room.
We might as well have been passing ships in the night.
As I pulled up in front of my parents’ two-story suburban home in my rental car, memories of Quinn and me doing this very same thing at his parents’ house a few days ago filled my head.
At least, this time, I knew what to expect.
The only greetings I would receive would be those of love, acceptance, and open arms. And for that, I was thankful. It’d been nearly four months since I’d been home, and this was a much-needed visit to see my parents.
As I stepped out of the car and made my way down the stone-paved pathway toward the front door, my mother walked onto the porch, a huge smile kissing her beautiful face.
“Catharine!” she greeted, and I hurried my pace to meet her at the steps.
She engulfed me in a tight hug, and a relieved exhale escaped my lungs.
“I missed you so much,” I whispered, and she leaned back to meet my eyes. Her hands cupped my face, and she examined me in a way only a mother could.
“You look so pretty,” she mused. “A little tired, but still as gorgeous as ever.” She tugged at the ends of my hair. “I love what you’ve done with your hair.”
“Thanks,” I said and glanced behind her, my eyes searching inside the house. “Where’s Dad?”
“Oh, he’s probably upstairs in the office,” she said with a soft smile. “He’s been hard at work updating the Caterpillar & Co website.”
I laughed. “Of course he is.”
Ever since I’d started my flight attendant career, my dad had been the sole reason Caterpillar & Co had continued selling greeting cards. Between my initial training, moving to New York, and getting used to my new flight schedule, I’d barely had time to keep up with anything else but work.
Luckily, my dad was sentimental as hell and kept our little greeting card business running.
Following my mom’s lead, I walked inside my childhood home, and in true Caterpillar fashion, I shouted for my dad just like I used to when I was a kid. “Daaaaad! I’m hooooooome!”
“Caterpillar!” he answered on a shout, his voice echoing from one of the upstairs bedrooms. “Come up to the office! I’ve got something to show you!”
“See?” My mom grinned. “He’s hard at work.”
I jogged up the steps, and just as expected, found my dad sitting in his favorite leather chair, behind what looked to be a new Mac.
“New digs?” I asked, and he smirked.
“I’m trying to stay with the times,” he said as he hopped up from his seat and greeted me with a big hug. “I’ve missed you, Caterpillar.”
“I missed you too.”
“Now, before we eat dinner and you update your mother and me on all of the new, amazing things going on in your life, I need to show you the new website.” He moved back around the desk and sat down. With a click of the mouse, the screen came back to life, and a brand-spanking-new, sleek as hell webpage filled my view.
“Oh my God,” I muttered as I stared at the new Caterpillar & Co logo and the gorgeous display of our top-selling greeting cards on the home page. “Did you do all of that?”
“Well…” he started with a knowing smirk. “I did some of it, but one of the new guys from the post office helped me. He has a background in graphic design and coding.”
“This looks incredible. Like, we look like a legit business. Not just some freelancers selling stuff on Etsy.”
“Awesome.” He chuckled. “That’s the exact look I was going for.”
“So…just out of curiosity…what made you do it? I mean, I thought our setup on Etsy was working pretty good.”
“I’m guessing you haven’t had time to check our sales numbers…”
I quirked a brow. “What do you mean?”
He just grinned. “We’ve increased our sales by nearly sixfold. Apparently, Caterpillar & Co is catching on, and I’ll be honest, the last line of holiday and birthday cards you designed were a huge hit.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “People loved them.”
“Wow. That’s pretty awesome.”
“So, either tonight or tomorrow, do you think you can etch out a few hours of your time to go over business plans?”
“Definitely.”
“Dinner is almost ready!” my mother’s voice echoed from the kitchen. “And Cat, I think your phone is ringing!”
Thinking it was Nikki or Casey calling to tell me something work-related, I jogged down the steps and to the front door, where my purse sat on the bench in the foyer. I grabbed my now-silent cell phone and checked the screen for missed calls.
The one and only notification on my lock screen glared back at me.
Missed Call: Quinn
Before I could even contemplate whether to call him back before or after dinner, my phone started ringing again in my hand.
Incoming Call: Quinn.
Hesitantly, I tapped the green phone icon and held the phone to my ear.
“Hey,” I greeted, and I hated how uncertain and small my voice sounded.
“Hey, Cat,” he said. “How are you?”
Cat? He never called me Cat. It was always kitten or Kitty Cat. The absence of my nickname urged unease to fill my gut.
“I’m okay,” I half lied. I wouldn’t say I was on
e hundred percent okay, but at least, I was still riding out the happy vibes the conversation with Dad had just given me. “How are you?”
“I’m okay.”
Wow. This conversation was off to an exciting start…
“So…” He cleared his throat. “You made it safely to Cincinnati?”
“Yeah,” I answered and discreetly went back upstairs and into my childhood bedroom for some privacy, shutting the door behind me with a quiet click. “I’m actually at my parents’ house right now for a visit.”
“That sounds nice. I’m sure they’re happy to see you.”
Yeah, pretty much the complete opposite of how your parents feel about me…
“Uh-huh,” I muttered. I had no idea what else to say. The fact that we still hadn’t talked about how things had gone with his parents hung thick and heavy over our conversation, choking my words and depleting my brain’s ability to maintain any form of small talk.
Silence filled the line, until eventually, Quinn cleared his throat and said, “I’m sorry how things went at my parents’, Cat.”
“Me too.”
“I’m not sure what was going on with them, but I’m sorry that it was awkward.”
I grimaced at his words. He knew what was going on with them. And I wasn’t sure if he wasn’t being honest to protect me, or if there was another reason for his lie of omission.
“It wasn’t just awkward, Quinn,” I said on a near whisper, the words too difficult to say at normal volume. “It was uncomfortable. And it felt like they didn’t want me there at all.”
“I know,” he said, and I could hear the melancholy in his voice. “I’m so sorry, Cat.”
Tears filled my eyes. I was still Cat. And he was still tiptoeing around what had happened.
Or was his “I’m so sorry, Cat” his way of saying that things weren’t going to work out between us?
“What do you mean by that, Quinn?”
“What do I mean by what?”
“‘I’m so sorry,’” I repeated. “What are you sorry about? The way things went at your parents’ house, or the fact that you don’t think our relationship can work out?”
