“It’s just…I have this…Never mind. It’s stupid.” Quinn pulls her arms up inside the sleeves of her sweatshirt and purses her lips.
“Would you relax?” I sit down next to her on the bed and trace her collar bone with my index finger. “Quinn, baby, I’ve seen you naked. You can talk to me.”
She continues to coil into herself, and I know it’s because, for Quinn, clothes off is easier than walls down.
“Quinn.” I slide my hands on either side of her face so that she’s looking at me.
She pulls back gently and presses the heels of her hands over her eyebrows for a long few seconds. “I just have this fear that things are changing. You’re gone a lot taking pictures, and I love that you do that, and I’m about to leave for Italy, and... Okay, so this thing with Caroline—”
“There is no thing with Caroline, Quinn.” I say it, but I don’t really know if it’s true or not. I don’t know why she’s calling, I don’t know if something is wrong and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t eating at me.
“But there is. Because she’s calling, and it freaks me out.” Her voice and her hands and her eyelashes all kind of flutter, like she’s about to crack into a million pieces.
No.
I’m here.
With Quinn.
Caroline and whatever is up with her doesn’t matter.
I pull her into my arms and the fluttering stops. I love the solid, steady feel of her against me.
“Why would that worry you? I’m here. With you. Always.”
I wad my apron into a ball, cram it into my locker and slam the metal door shut. “I’ll see you soon,” I say to my boss, Teresa.
“It’s going to be amazing,” she says. You can practically see the glossy cannoli cream shining in her eyes. “And don’t you worry about your job; it’s here waiting for you. Just don’t forget about us all while you’re gone.”
I want to roll my eyes, because this job is nothing worth remembering, but I know how damn lucky I am to have this chance to see the world and learn something new— and not be stuck in my forties and working in this knock-off brand Italian food chain—like Teresa, who would give anything for the chance I have thrown at my feet.
“I won’t,” I say. I pull my hoodie over my head and grab my purse off of the bench. “I have to get going. Ben says he has something planned for tonight.”
“Of course, have fun.”
Teresa hired me the first week I arrived in California. Ben and I had no plan other than that we were saying to hell with our parents’ theory that art school is for delinquents, and we were going to make it work out here on our own—with the help of massive student loans that’d we would probably be paying off until we were near death.
“Holy mother of tinsel, what’s going on?” I ask. I stop in the doorway of our apartment to take it all in. There’s a small artificial Christmas tree in the corner, decorated with big bows that look like they’re threatening to topple the whole damn thing. There’s a poinsettia on our cluttered coffee table, garland above the doorway to our bedroom, and the whole place reeks of those cinnamon-infused pinecones.
I turn to Ben, who is smirking like he has a secret. “What’s all this?”
“Christmas,” he says with a quick shrug on his shoulders. His voice is a little shy, like he isn’t sure if I’ll approve. His coy expression is adorable, and I can’t help think of the Christmas we spent in Georgia together the night we got back together after the whole Mark fiasco. The night he had me practically begging him to kiss me. He did. And more.
That night marked the first time I felt something other than the need to be self-destructive. Ben has brought more to my life than just being a boyfriend. He’s brought stability, and a beautiful love that I never imagined I could deserve.
I smile back at him, because I know he’s remembering that night, too.
He winks at me and I feel the familiar butterflies in my stomach take flight. I clear my throat. “Wow, you really went all out, guys,” I say, finally admitting that my brother and Shayna are also in this perfect Christmas romance bubble.
“It was all Shayna,” Ben says.
“Obviously she knew it was me. I bet you two half-wits wouldn’t know a Douglas Fir from a Noble.”
“And you’d be right about that,” Carter says with a laugh. He reaches over, hooks his arm around Shayna’s waist and pulls her into his side and kisses her ear. I’ve never seen my brother like this. I mean, I’ve seen him with girlfriends before, sure. But this brand of happiness and ease is new, especially since he started working full time at a small accounting firm and stopped drinking. It takes a lot for him to relax lately. I can’t believe it took my former nemesis to bring out this side of him.
“Anyway,” Shayna says, cozying closer to Carter while she gets her brag on. “I got a fake tree, because I didn’t know if anyone would be here for Christmas, or if it would just sit here and die. So...Ben?” Shayna raises her eyebrows curiously and taps her foot.
“Huh?” Ben asks. I love that he was ignoring her because he was busy looking me over like he wanted everyone else in the room to disappear.
“Will you? Be here for Christmas?” Her question is so insistent, it borders on severely irritating despite her good elf act.
The guilt over missing Christmas with Ben churns in my stomach. I can’t believe he’ll be sitting here alone. With that hideous tree Shayna decorated.
“I don’t know what I’m doing yet, Shayna. But I promise you’ll be the first to know.”
Shayna squints her eyes at Ben’s sarcasm.
“Anyway, there’s hot cocoa and I picked up appetizers from that place on 5th, and I guess we’ll eat now if you assholes are hungry, but if it were up to me—”
We all snicker and Carter grabs a wrapped box off of the table.
“Prezzies!” Shayna squeals. She rushes to Carter clapping like a damn seal. But way more annoying.
“I shouldn’t even give this to you now. I’m going to see you on Christmas.” Carter kisses her forehead and hands Shayna her gift.
“But we had to celebrate with Quinn and Ben.” She grins and rips into the wrapping paper.
I feel Ben’s arms wrap around my waist and slouch into him.
“I wish you would have told me you guys were planning this. I haven’t had time to get gifts together.” I frown.
“I’ve got a few ideas of things you could give me,” Ben says, nipping at my ear with his teeth.
“Easy. We’ve got company,” I laugh.
“We’re not company,” Carter says. “But dude, come on, that’s my sister.”
I don’t blush often, but I can’t fight the warmth rising up my neck and onto my face.
“You can bring us something back from Italy, Quinnlette,” Shayna says, borrowing the nickname my brother coined for me when we were kids. “Preferably something sparkly.”
“Right,” I say. “I’m sure that will happen, Shay.”
“Hey, is this not sparkly enough for you?” Carter asks, holding up Shayna’s dainty wrist to display a stunning gold bracelet.
“It’s gorgeous, babe. Merry Christmas to me!” Shayna stands on her tip-toes and kisses my brother. They’re really riding the line of no longer being cute tonight, and leaning dangerously toward just being vomitously sickening.
“Hey, that’s my brother,” I joke.
“I think we want to go home and, um, open presents,” Carter says, pulling Shayna to the door.
“Your gift is under the tree, Quinn. It’s new pots and pans from all three of us. Not very original, but we had to do something to make sure you’d keep on cooking for us!” Shayna squeals in the high-pitched voice I seldom hear since we left high school on her way out the door.
“Well, that was a quick celebration,” I say. I turn to Ben who has his right hand behind his back, like he’s holding something. “What are you hiding back there?”
“Nothing,” Ben smirks.
I take the last few steps toward him. “You don’t
have another gift for me, do you? Shayna said that one was from everyone. Ben?”
He pulls his hand out from behind his back. The click startles me and sudden flash blinds me momentarily.
“How many times have I told you I hate when you take my picture?”
He tosses his camera onto the sofa and pulls me in, his lips on my throat before I can argue any further.
“I know. I’m sorry,” he says.
“No you’re not.” I find his lips with mine.
“You’re right. I’m not. You’re so damn beautiful, Quinn. And I’m going to miss you so damn much. I just want to remember this. Right now.”
I can’t argue with him.
“And this,” he says, his lips working their way down my neck, shoulders, and chest. He drops to his knees and I have a momentary flash of panic.
Don’t propose. Please. Don’t. Propose.
“And this,” he says, he lifts up the hem of the light cotton skirt that skims just above my knees, presses his mouth to my thigh and I can’t help the moan that escapes my lips. His warm kisses and capable hands make their way up to the most sensitive skin until my knees are wobbling and my moans and gasps have turned into begging.
“We should go to bed,” I whimper against Ben’s lips while tugging at his belt.
“You should let me take you right here,” he says. He helps me with the unfastening of that stupid belt and shimmies out of his jeans.
“I think that’s a better idea,” I agree.
I pull his white t-shirt over his head, exposing his warm skin and run my hands over his chest, his abs, anything I can touch while he helps get rid of my pesky skirt and panties.
“I love you,” I say as he grips my hips and slides inside of me.
“Love you, baby.”
Ben and I here, making love next to a Christmas tree (albeit artificial) like we did that first time—that night I showed up at his house in that damn dress in the rain, makes me nostalgic for those early days before bills and jobs and real life. But it also makes me so content with where we are.
“Merry un-Christmas to me,” I say, catching my breath. “That was way better than a bracelet, by the way.”
“So, I do have something else for you,” he says, brushing my bangs out of my face.
I feel myself deflate again. “Come on, it’s bad enough I’m leaving you here alone for Christmas. Please, let’s not do the whole, ‘shower me with gifts,’ thing.”
“You need to go, Quinn. It’s Italy. It’s really okay. It’ll be quiet here, yeah, but I’ll study, and work, and stay up all night taking pictures without you getting mad at me.” He grins, and if it reached up a fraction of a centimeter closer to his eyes, I’d almost believe it was a genuine smile.
“What about, maybe, going home with Shayna and Carter?” I say it slowly. Cautiously.
“To Georgia?” He loosens his grip on me ever so slightly, like he’s trying to gauge whether or not I’m being serious.
I settle in his arms so that we’re still locked together, but I can see his eyes, can look him full in the face and be the responsible, loving girlfriend he deserves. Or at least the most decent version of that particular girl I know how to be. “Yeah, I mean, I know we’ve all mentioned it, but really, Ben, I’m sure you’re welcome to stay at my house with Carter—”
“I doubt that.” His mouth twists in a wry grin, I’m sure over the thought of my parents’ chilly, anti-social reaction to finding him on their doorstep, ruining their annual Christmas Eve blitz. Ho ho ho.
“Yeah, you’re right. My parents are dicks, but yours…they love you, Ben.” I push back all the rebellious anti-parent craziness we’ve been rallying since we left home, because I know how much he needs this. And I owe him. I know this entire thing severing from his parent’s thing has been his way of staying by my side, and now it’s time I paid him back by putting on my big girl pants.
“Quinn—”
“Look, I know things got crazy there with your mom. And I can’t even tell you how thankful I am that you didn’t let her ultimatums stop you from being with me, because, this?” I gesture to us, lying naked on our living room floor, limbs intertwined. “This is pretty great.”
“Agreed,” Ben laughs and kisses the tip of my nose. “Doesn’t get a whole hell of a lot better.”
“But, I know she’s got to miss you, Ben. Just think about it, okay?” I let out a breath, and I know he’ll probably do more than think. There’s a tiny fear that doing this, letting him go, is just giving him permission to fly away from me and back to the comforting arms of the people who love him and hate me and might, maybe, be able to show him just what a catastrophe his decision was.
Like they’d need much proof. The girl he ran away from everything for is leaving him high and dry on Christmas, for god’s sake. His mother won’t even have to lace this one in ‘bless her hearts’ this time. I suck and that’s going to be clear, even to my biggest fan.
Even to Ben.
Which is why I have to show him that I do actually care.
“For you, baby, anything.”
“So, what do you have for me?” I ask, peering around his long frame. Ben hoists himself off of the floor and disappears into our bedroom. “It’s not more pictures of me, is it?” I call after him.
He returns moments later in boxers, holding a manila envelope. “Hey, no fair on the clothes,” I gripe.
“Fine,” he grins and tosses me the t-shirt I’d torn off of him earlier. He waits for me to pull it over my head, then hands me the envelope.
“What’s this?” I start to unclasp the brads holding the envelope shut, but Ben covers my hand with his.
“Wait, let me just explain this to you,” he says. His voice quivers a little, and I don’t really understand his nerves.
“My life is full of photographs. I mean, yeah…” Ben motions around to the walls covered with his black-and-white masterpieces. He swallows hard. “But there’s the other kind, too. The snapshots in my mind that make everything else fade except that one moment. Some of them change everything for you. You and I, that first date I ever took you on in Savannah was one of those for me.” He nudges my hands and I finish opening the envelope and pull out the single photo.
“Is this..?” I don’t have to finish, I know exactly what the picture is. The ancient oak tree bends and dips toward the ground, its branches twisting and growing in each direction with thick Southern moss draped from every bit of it. It’s the tree that we sat under sharing both delicious and scary food. The tree that Ben kissed me for the first time under. “It’s beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I say. “But wait, when did you take this?”
“When Carter and I went back to Georgia to get Shayna’s stuff a few months ago.”
“Ben, Savannah isn’t exactly on the way to Atlanta. Like, at all.”
Ben shrugs his shoulders. “I had him take a little detour. He understood it was for a good cause.” I suddenly love my brother so much more than I did thirty minutes ago.
“I love it.”
“I love you. And our lives. And this,” he says, pointing to the tree in the photo, “this is what started it all. You changed everything for me in that moment.”
The tears blur my vision, and my throat burns from me trying to keep them from falling.
“So much better than a bracelet,” I say.
“Don’t forget this,” Ben says. “You’ll definitely need it.” He grins and tosses the paperback English-to-Italian translation book to me. I shove it into my carry-on, because I know not a single thing, no matter how small, will fit into my overflowing suitcase. I zip the bag closed and stare into the empty trunk of Ben’s car. “Hey, you nervous?”
“More than a little,” I admit.
“Don’t be,” he says. He pulls me in and wrapped up in his familiar, warm arms, leaving really seems like a completely terrible idea. “You’re going to do great, and you’ll be home before you even
miss us.”
“Are you going to be okay?” I ask, nestling against the solid wall of his chest. He does such an amazing job of always being okay, always being amazing, that I never really know if he truly is.
And I tend to do such a thorough job of being so not okay, we’re usually focused on me. Or we were. That was the old Quinn and Ben. It’s all different now.
“Quinn, I’ll be fine. Let’s get you inside, though. Otherwise you’re going to miss this flight, and then you can thank Shayna and her dramatic good-bye this morning.” It’s true. Ben and I would have been here an hour ago if it weren’t for Shayna showing up this morning with bagels and insisting that we have an AM version of the Last Supper together. Damn Carter for having a real job and getting to skip out on it.
“Let me take that,” Ben says. He pulls the cross-body carry-on I have off of my shoulder and slings it over his, even though he’s already lugging my suitcase for me.
“You don’t have to do that, I can get it.”
Ben stops walking, and shakes his head. “I know I don’t have to, Quinn. I want to.” It’s not the words he says, it’s in the way he says them— and the way he looks at the ground, rather than at me that makes me pause. Something isn’t right. And it might be bigger than just my leaving.
A small pool of panic gurgles up in me, and soon it’s welling so fast I feel like I’m going to drown in it.
I can’t worry about this right now. I can’t. If I do, I won’t ever get on that plane. Maybe he’s just nervous about me going. That’s got to be it.
“Okay.”
We continue to walk to my gate, Ben taking slower steps than me so that I can keep up with his long legs. It’s quiet between us now. How many times can you say you’ll miss each other, or ‘I love you’ before it just sounds redundant and loses a little sincerity? And the quiet is okay, because every once in a while, Ben extends his fingertips and brushes mine, and the familiarity of that calloused touch is all I need right now.
I wish, for once, the line at the ticket counter was longer. That they didn’t print my boarding passes like it was a race, and toss my luggage onto that conveyer belt like it’s perishable. Because before I have a chance to breathe, Ben is standing with me at the line for security. The line he can’t cross.
Risk the Fall Page 54
