I took a deep breath.
"Listen. I'm glad it's out in the open. I'm not having second thoughts," I started, touching his hand. He seemed so on edge, and though I hated to see him upset, it made me happy, almost giddy, that he cared so much.
I took a deep breath before continuing. "But Quinn, you should have talked to me about this before you went to Julianne, and certainly before you talked to Dennis and Lauren."
"Is this about Julianne? Em, you have to know there is nothing, and I mean nothing, for you to worry about there."
"I know. Honestly, that isn't it at all. I'm not jealous. It's just… this is about us, but it's also about my job. I should have had a say in how this went down.”
“OK…” he said, still not really getting it.
"Think about it this way,” I said. “You got so pissed off at Julianne—almost fired her—for speaking for you. You get angry when you feel like you're being handled. You like to do things for yourself."
"Well, yeah."
"Yeah. But then you did the same thing to me. Without consulting me, you went to my employers and shared information with them that's personal to me. You should have talked to me about it first."
He stared at me, furrowing.
"Quinn, I'm not mad. I just wanted you to know how I felt. The timing is a little weird, because I just emailed Lauren this morning to follow up about possibly moving on to a bigger opportunity at their company. Then you and Julianne called her the same day. It's awkward. But it's not the end of the world. Next time, just please talk to me first."
He shook his head and looked away, then looked back at me. "Christ Em, you're right. I'm sorry."
He was silent for a minute, and I let it all sink in. "Why didn't you tell me about the email?" he asked. "It's great that you did that. I would never have, I mean, on the same day… shit."
"I was going to, as soon as I saw you. But you beat me to it." I tried to keep my tone light.
He shook his head, clearly upset. I leaned toward him and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. "Are you hungry? Want some dinner? I don't have much in the fridge, but-"
"Um, sure. Let me help."
We cooked some tortellini he dug up in the pantry, and I sauteed a few stray vegetables hiding in the fridge to go on top. We finished the wine and watched a couple of reruns on TV.
Quinn was quiet, his usual playful energy subdued.
I wanted to ask what was on his mind, but I resisted the urge. I figured he would share it with me when he was ready. I had plenty on my mind, too.
Part of me thought maybe he didn't like it that I had questioned his actions. Perhaps he took it as criticism and couldn't handle it. I didn't think that was it, but I wasn't sure.
I felt better after we talked about it, and I was proud of how I'd handled it. In the past I would have blown up, or not said anything and stewed about it, getting more and more resentful over time. Maybe I was growing up.
I was just falling asleep when Quinn turned to me in bed.
“Em, are you awake?”
“Mmm hmm. What’s up?” I opened my eyes and looked at him. He was sitting up, staring at me, his brow knitted. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just-” he looked away.
I sat up and touched his arm lightly. “What is it?”
He looked back at me. “Em, I-” he shook his head.
Holy shit, he’s breaking up with me.
My heart pounding, I stared back silently.
“No one’s ever done that with me before,” he said. I honestly didn’t know if he was going to kiss me or get up and walk out.
“Done what?”
“You called me on my shit, but you were so matter-of-fact about it. You just… handled it. No scene, no tears, no crazy. Just, ‘This is how you fucked up, do better next time.’ And that was it.”
I smiled, relieved. “I’m told this is what adults do in mature relationships.”
He grinned back. “For real?” He shook his head. “I guess I’m just used to so much stupid drama. With actors, everything’s heightened, there’s so much ego. No one’s ever just talked something through with me and then offered me dinner.”
I leaned over and hugged him. “I thought you were going to tell me you were upset, that you thought I was criticizing you.”
“No,” he pulled away but clasped my hand, interlacing our fingers. “You can criticize me. I like it that you told me what you thought. Totally straightforward. I respect that.”
“Well, I don’t want to fight. I mean, I’m sure we will fight. But you didn’t mean any harm here. You did something I didn’t like, but your heart was in the right place. I just had to tell you how I felt, and now we can move on.
“Do something bad intentionally, and then I’ll kick your ass,” I joked, giving him a light shove.
He grabbed my arms, turned me and pinned me down so swiftly, I barely registered what he was doing until I was beneath him.
“I like the sound of that. What do I have to do to make that happen?” He buried his face in my neck as I laughed.
CHAPTER 19
Lauren's assistant had emailed and told me to meet Lauren at the Living Room, the lounge at Shutters in Santa Monica. I sprang for valet parking to avoid the stress of having to look for a space or hoof it over from a lot, and walked into the lobby 10 minutes early, at 5:50. I ducked into the ladies room to touch up my light makeup and straighten the new teal silk blouse I had bought to wear over black capris and strappy black wedge sandals. It was a simple outfit that I hoped was casually elegant.
When I told the hostess whom I was meeting, she seated me at one of the tables right by the window, with a prime view of the Pacific, which I contemplated as I sipped sparkling water and waited. I wanted a glass of wine but thought I should wait to see what Lauren ordered first.
Erica had lent me a beautiful beaded necklace from her shop, and I fought the urge to play with it as I waited. My phone buzzed with a text, and it made me smile.
Good luck. You'll be great. xx Q
Lauren breezed in just after 6, striking as ever in a black and white wrap dress and red pumps. She managed to look feminine and sexy but formidable at the same time. After a brisk handshake, she took her seat next to me, summoned the waitress with the slightest raise of her hand and ordered a glass of chardonnay.
Just breathe. It's all going to be fine. She wants to talk about your future. This was her idea. Nothing to be afraid of.
"Lauren, thank you for meeting with me. I know how busy you are."
She gave me a thin-lipped smile. "Dennis was going to join us, but I thought it would be better if it was just the two of us."
"Lauren, I wanted to- I mean, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about the timing between my email to you and Quinn and Julianne's call. Obviously I didn't know that-"
She held up her hand.
"No apologies necessary, Emmy. The truth is, your relationship is none of our business. I was surprised that Quinn and Julianne felt the need to call us."
I looked down. "Actually, I was surprised, too. I-"
"Emmy, can I give you some advice?"
"Of course. I'd appreciate any advice you have for me."
She paused. "This is why I wanted us to meet alone," she said, sipping her wine and leaning back in her chair. "There's no need to bring up Quinn with me. The best thing you can do as a woman in the workforce is to leave your personal life out of it as much as possible. You know? As long as you and Quinn keep your relationship private and away from the Beach House, it has nothing to do with me."
Suddenly she leaned forward again and spoke quietly but firmly. "Don't explain yourself, Emmy. Ever. Men never do. They do exactly what they want and expect everyone else to just deal with it. We as women are always apologizing, always excusing ourselves. Just don't. OK?"
I was stunned by her candor. I waited, hoping wished she would share more wisdom with me. But it was clear she had said what she wanted to say, and that was that
.
"You're completely right," I said, trying to mimic her confident demeanor, forcing myself to maintain eye contact. "I will do that. Absolutely. Thank you."
She nodded as if to say, OK, that's settled, then took a big sip of wine. "All right then. Let's talk about you. I hate to ask that cliched question about where you see yourself in five years, but what the hell. Where do you see yourself in five years, Emmy?"
"Mmmmm," I murmured sleepily as Quinn gently stroked my legs. I was lying on the couch, half sprawled over him, as we watched Minority Report on cable.
"You know, we could turn this off and go to bed," he said, brushing his fingertips slowly, gently over my shins, down to the tops of my feet, and back up past my knees. He dipped quickly into my inner thighs before starting the trail back down again.
"Mmmmm hmmm," I responded, closing my eyes to heighten the feeling of his hands on me. "But it's only 8:30."
"Yes, but you've had a very busy week, a big meeting with your boss," he crooned, making his touch firmer. It became a massage that relaxed my thigh muscles but ignited other feelings elsewhere. I moaned.
He laughed. "So now that I have you right where I want you..."
I smiled. "Yes, kind sir, do with me what you will."
"Oh, I will. But I wanted to ask you something first."
"Mmm hmmm."
He tapered off the massage and I mewled in protest.
"So, what would you think about meeting my sister?"
My eyes popped open. "Really? When?"
"Actually, next Sunday," he said sheepishly. "I've been debating whether to ask you-"
I swallowed hard.
Why was he debating?
"Em?"
"Yeah," I whispered.
"Where did you go?"
"Huh?"
He chuckled. "I asked you a question, but you were off in space somewhere."
"Sorry! Um, yes."
"Is that your answer?"
"Well..."
He squeezed my arm. "It's OK if it is, but I want to make sure you know what the question was first."
"Ask me again."
"Do you think it's too soon?" he asked, rubbing my shoulder. "I don't want to freak you out. If it helps, I'm closer with Frankie than I am with either of my brothers. She's cooler and more fun. Definitely more easygoing. And it's just dinner. I won't subject you to Hay Springs... Yet."
I looked at Quinn, still amazed by how sweet and just... normal he was. Once you got past the cheeseball exterior he put on for strangers, he was a genuinely nice guy. It seemed impossible, too good to be true.
"OK, Em, I get it. It's too soon. Forget I asked. We'll wait until-"
"Next Sunday. We'll wait until next Sunday," I interrupted. "I'm supposed to work until 9, but I'll switch it so I'm free at 6. I can meet you at 7. Is that OK?"
"Are you sure?"
"Could not be more sure."
After a sweet hug, he reached under me and pulled me into his lap, kissing me.
After a few playful minutes of Quinn alternating between kissing me breathless and tickling me into fits of giggles, my buzzer rang. I jumped up.
"Who's that?" Quinn looked nervous.
"I don't know. I'm sure it's nothing. I-"
I was headed over to the buzzer to find out who it was, when the front doorbell rang.
"Oh, someone must have let them in," I said.
"I'm going to wait in your room," Quinn whispered, hurrying into the other room.
"Who is it?" I called, once he was safely out of view.
"It's Mom, buttercup! Sorry to just show up!"
I opened the door. "Mom! Are you OK? Come in," I stepped aside so she could walk in.
"I'm fine, sweetie," she said, hugging me. "Sorry to barge in on you. I was just on my way home from my friend Myra's place and saw that I was right here, so I thought I'd surprise you. Are you alone? I thought I heard another voice in here."
"Well, I uh-"
"Hi. It's Leona, right?" Quinn said, walking in.
"Yes," she said, extending her hand. "I'm Emmy's mother. And you are-"
He opened his mouth to speak, but she got there first.
"Wait. You're- Are you, um?" She was shaking her head. "That actor. Um, um, I know your name. It's, um..."
"Quinn," he said, smiling warmly at her and shaking her hand. "It's really nice to meet you. And now I see where Emmy gets her good looks and her killer handshake."
Mom was looking at Quinn and me, her gaze shifting back and forth between us.
"I'm sorry, I'm just... surprised, I guess," she giggled nervously. "Emmy didn't tell me... I mean, I didn't know she knew you. I- how did this... How did you...?"
She shook her head, utterly confused.
"I'm sorry, Mom. Sorry to spring this on you. Quinn is staying at the Beach House, and we were all sworn to secrecy."
"Oh, right! You're supposed to be," she pointed at Quinn, "you're in some kind of trouble, right?"
"Mom! You're making it sound like he's a fugitive or something."
"No, Emmy, it's OK," Quinn said. "Leona—is it OK for me to call you Leona?"
She nodded.
"You're right, I am supposed to be in trouble," he said, giving her his irresistible full-blast gaze. "It isn't legal trouble, though, and the rumors about me are not true. But I'd appreciate it if you kept that between us?"
"Um, sure, I guess so," she frowned. "But if there are false rumors about you, why wouldn't you set the record straight?"
"Mom-"
"Em, really, it's OK," he said gently, touching my shoulder. He turned back to my mother. "It's a good question. It's basically all a publicity stunt."
She nodded, but I could still see the confusion in her eyes.
"You can't tell anyone, Mom, not even your most trusted friend. I didn't even tell you, that's how secret this all is," I admonished.
"OK. I get it," she said, shooting me a look before focusing on Quinn again. "So you're a guest at the inn. But what are you doing here?"
There was a pause as Quinn and I glanced at each other.
I blushed. "We've been, sort of, hanging out," I said.
She nodded again, then held up one hand. "All right, I know enough to not to ask questions. At least," she smirked in Quinn's direction, "not in front of you. I'll leave you two alone.
"Emmy," she said, turning to me, "we'll talk tomorrow."
She gave me a kiss on the cheek, then headed for the door. I was right behind her.
"OK Mom. Sorry again for the surprise."
"It's all right, buttercup," she gave me a meaningful glance as if to say, "We are going to discuss this," and gave Quinn a little wave as she walked out.
"Good night, Leona," he called.
The door clicked shut, and we both laughed.
"So, 'buttercup'?" He asked with raised eyebrows.
"Yes, my mommy calls me buttercup. Want to make something of it?" I shoved him.
"Oh yes, definitely. I definitely want to make something of it, buttercup. Are you going to shove me again? Please?"
"Perv," I laughed, melting into him.
"Mmmm hmmm," he murmured as he kissed me.
CHAPTER 20
"So tell me who exactly is coming to the meeting?" I asked Quinn the next morning.
We were halfway through my favorite six-mile run in my neighborhood, approaching the top of a hill that was nearly a mile long and winding, but not steep.
Quinn panted, "Can't talk. Let me- fuck! I gotta slow down."
I laughed. "You are such a drama queen."
He glared sideways at me. "I am going to spank you so hard when we get back to your place."
"Excellent."
He laughed and shook his head. "Perv."
I nodded. "Lucky you!"
He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me to him. "Yup," he said, kissing me.
He tasted salty, and sweat made our lips and tongues slide together so perfectly. I moaned softly, then pulled away.
> "Getting me all worked up is not going to get you out of running up this hill, slacker," I murmured, wrapping my arms around his waist and looking up at him.
His eyes glinted under his baseball cap as he grinned at me.
"Slave driver."
I laughed. "Let's go. Come on, the meeting is three days away. I want to know everything."
He sighed as we started running again.
"OK, OK. Well, it's actually really important. This is the meeting that will get me started back on the path out of this mess."
"Quinn, wow! So, what's supposed to happen?"
"It will be me, my agent, maybe his number two guy, and a few studio people. Julianne, of course. There's a script I've had the rights to for a while that I want to produce and star in. It's something really different for me, it's really dark and the character I want to play is definitely not the good guy. So we're all going to sit down and discuss it."
"That's great! I mean, isn't it? What's the script? I mean, what is it about?"
"No, I don't want to jinx it. I'll tell you all about it when they make the deal."
"Really?" I was incredulous. I'd never seen Quinn so insecure.
"Yeah. Just- I don't know. I don't want to get any more excited about it."
"OK. But Quinn, you already don't sound all that excited. Why is that?"
He sighed again. "I can't let myself go there yet. Nothing's ever done until it's done in this business. These studio people… they say they're interested, and they agreed to the meeting. But I won't believe it until the contracts are signed."
"Is there really a risk, or are you just being cynical?"
"Both."
"So, what can I do to help you feel more relaxed?"
He glanced sideways, raising one eyebrow.
"Quinn!"
"What? You asked!"
"I meant, what can I do to help the meeting run smoothly?"
"I know, I know," he said with laugh. "Thanks. It's going to help me already that you're there, and that you care so much. But just, do what you do. Make it go off without a hitch, make everyone feel welcome, give them great food and keep the glasses full and just be your friendly self."
"Oh, and. Um-" he hesitated.
"What?"
"Is Elaine going to be there?"
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