by Aurora Rey
Quinn didn’t find that reassuring. Quite the opposite, actually. She wanted there to be a certain science to it, a predictability. At the very least, she wanted some sort of insurance policy she wouldn’t finally screw up the courage to put herself out there, only to fall in love with someone she had absolutely nothing in common with.
“You don’t agree?”
“I don’t disagree.” Her date with Lisa had sort of proved it—being perfectly compatible on paper didn’t count for anything in the romance department.
“But? And don’t say there isn’t one. I can see your wheels turning.”
“It all feels a little, I don’t know”—she searched for the right word—“haphazard.”
Arti grinned. “That’s what makes it so magical.”
Quinn rolled her eyes. “Says the woman who’s been happily married for a dozen years.”
Arti let out a sigh and drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair. “Can I tell you something?”
A knot formed below her ribs. If Arti’s marriage was falling apart, she was seriously going to lose faith in love. “Oh, no. Is something wrong?”
“No. The opposite. But it’s not something everyone takes well.”
For the life of her, she had no idea where Arti was going. “Okay.”
“About four years ago, Marguerite and I decided to open our marriage.”
“You did?” Her voice squeaked with surprise and she wanted to kick herself. “Sorry. I mean, you did?”
Rather than looking offended, Arti laughed. “We did. We’d fallen into a rut and, as much as I didn’t want to talk about it, we did. And we decided we wanted to stay together but didn’t want to give up that excitement.”
She could appreciate that. “I give you credit for not ignoring that or, you know, having an affair.”
Arti offered a sympathetic smile. “Yeah.”
“So, you see other people?”
“Sort of. We did a lot of reading because we’re nerds.”
“Of course you did.” It was so Arti and completely endearing. And it wasn’t like she’d never heard of polyamory. She just didn’t know anyone personally who did it. Correction: she didn’t think she knew anyone who did it.
“Yeah, so anyway. We liked what we read and we gave it a try and it’s been awesome. A lot of work, and a whole lot of talking. But awesome.”
She loved that they were having a moment, but the fact that it needed to be a moment made her sad. “I’m happy for you. And sorry it’s not something you feel you can be open about.”
Arti waved her off. “Don’t apologize. It’s not very different from you not wanting to talk about your love life.”
Quinn laughed. “Touché.”
“Yeah, and don’t think I didn’t notice how you changed the subject. I still want your scoop.”
Unlike with her sisters, she really hadn’t been trying to change the subject. “This is way more interesting than anything I have going on.”
“You know, we should grab a drink sometime.”
It was a line they hadn’t crossed. Not the having a drink together part, but doing so as friends, with the clear intention of sharing and bonding. “I’d like that.”
Arti stood. “How about after your next date? Then hopefully we’ll both have something juicy to dish.”
She smiled. “Deal.”
“In the meantime, don’t overthink it. If there’s a spark, enjoy it.”
Was it really that simple? “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Arti turned to leave. She made it almost to the door before Quinn called her back. “Yeah?”
“You came in here for something and I don’t think we ever got to it.” The least she could do after being caught daydreaming was take care of whatever Arti wanted in the first place.
“Nah. I saw you staring into space and wanted to give you a hard time.”
Quinn chuckled. “I appreciate your honesty.”
“That’s what friends are for, right?”
She wasn’t sure how she’d gotten so lucky in the coworker department. Or the friend department, for that matter. “Agreed.”
* * *
Amanda drummed her fingers on the table. She didn’t need their permission, but she also didn’t like keeping secrets from her kids. Unlike Mel, this didn’t have the weird, terrible idea factor. Also unlike her fling with Mel, things with Quinn seemed like maybe they had the chance to go somewhere. If they did, she didn’t want Cal and Daniella feeling blindsided.
“I want to talk to you two about something.”
Daniella frowned. “What’s wrong?”
Cal looked at her with confusion. “How do you know something’s wrong?”
Poor Daniella. She’d inherited her mother’s propensity to worry. “Nothing is wrong.”
Cal seemed relieved, but Daniella wasn’t so readily appeased. “Okay. What is it, then?”
She took a deep breath. “I want to know how you’d feel if I was seeing someone.”
Daniella continued to frown. “Like, a girlfriend?”
“Well, she’s not going to get a boyfriend. Wait.” Cal turned to Amanda. “Do you want a boyfriend? Or have one? Because that would be fine.”
Amanda couldn’t help but chuckle. She’d raised her kids to be accepting of everyone. It was endearing to see the principle applied to her own preferences. “No boyfriend. Promise.”
“But a girlfriend.” Daniella looked more suspicious than worried.
“Maybe. I wouldn’t use that word yet, but I wanted to see how you’d feel about it.”
“You dated when we were younger, after the divorce,” Cal said.
It should make her feel better that her kids talked about the divorce so casually, but even now, it never failed to give a pang of regret. “Yes, but it was years ago, and nothing ever serious.”
“Is this serious?” Daniella asked.
Why did this conversation make her more uncomfortable than the sex talk? “Not yet.”
“But it might be.” Daniella nodded knowingly. “Are you sleeping together?”
“Daniella.” Cal looked at his sister in horror.
She glared at him. “Don’t be a prude.”
“I’m…” he hesitated, like the word didn’t compute, then settled on, “not.”
“You are being such a cis straight guy right now. Women of all ages and orientations have sexual desire and agency, Cal.” Even if Daniella didn’t like the idea, she couldn’t keep her feminist sensibilities from kicking in. It made Amanda smile.
Cal looked at Daniella as though she was speaking a language other than English. “What?”
He was more open-minded than the average eighteen-year-old boy, but even he had his limits. “Your sister is saying it’s cool for me to have a girlfriend, or a boyfriend should I decide I wanted to lean that way.”
“Exactly.” Daniella’s tone was smug.
Cal lifted his chin. “Or gender non-conforming friend should she want to date someone who exists outside the binary.”
Amanda bit her lip. Only her kids would turn the issue of her dating into a competition of who could be more progressive. “Does this mean you’re both comfortable with it?”
“When do we get to meet her?” Daniella asked instead of answering.
Cal frowned again. “Wait. Is there someone specific? Not just a hypothetical?”
Daniella sighed. “She said it wasn’t serious yet. That means there’s someone she might be getting serious with. Keep up.”
“Right. So, yeah, when do we get to meet her?” He shot Daniella a look. “Or them.”
She blew out a breath. Most days, she loved that her kids had the confidence and the intellect to go a mile a minute. Today, it left her dizzy. “We’ve only been on one date, so probably not for a bit.”
“But you like her, right? You wouldn’t be having this conversation with us if you didn’t like her.” Daniella folded her arms like she was the mother in this situation. Amanda hoped it was genuine i
nterest and not just a need to be superior to her brother.
“Who is she?” Cal asked before Amanda had the chance to respond.
It felt strange to be sharing details about Quinn, but she’d started the conversation, after all. “It’s the architect I hired for the bakery project.”
“Ooh. Ooh.” Cal waved his hands back and forth. “She’s the one who was here. The one I said you should date.”
Daniella went back to frowning. “Should you be dating someone who works for you? Isn’t that sexual harassment?”
Cal tapped a finger on the island. “She’s not an employee. Besides, is it sexual harassment if both people are into it?”
“There’s a power dynamic. That’s what makes it harassment. Or against the rules at least.” Daniella looked to her for validation.
Amanda pinched the bridge of her nose. Why had she decided to do this again? “Technically, I paid her for a service. She’s not an employee.”
“Yeah, that.” Cal looked vindicated.
“I guess it’s okay.” Daniella conceded the point grudgingly.
“Again, we’ve only been on one date.” She didn’t like the defensive edge in her voice, but it was too late now. She cleared her throat. “Besides, her role in the renovation is almost done.”
Cal nodded, clearly appeased. “I think it’s cool.”
“Thank you.”
“You should get to have fun.” Daniella’s scowl didn’t match her words.
“And if it gets serious, you’ll let us meet her, right? I mean, I technically met her, but you know, spend time together.” Whether he didn’t pick up on Daniella’s reticence or didn’t care, Amanda couldn’t tell.
“If we get there, yes. Of course.”
Of the handful of people she dated after the divorce, she’d only ever introduced one to her kids. She and Bryonny had dated a couple of months before Amanda had brought her home. Shortly after, Bryonny made it clear she wanted to have kids of her own, which was fine for her but a deal breaker for Amanda. Cal and Daniella, barely teenagers at the time, liked her and took it hard when she stopped coming around. The ordeal marked the end of her forays into dating, not just her bringing a woman home to meet her children.
Cal and Daniella were older now. She wouldn’t ignore their feelings on the subject, but considering both of them would be out of the house in the next few months, their lives would hardly be impacted. Working through that in her mind reassured her she was doing the right thing. Which was good. Because whether it was Quinn or the whole fiasco with Mel, something in her had shifted. Well, maybe less of a shift and more the realization she was on the cusp of being an empty nester who had very little in the way of a life outside of the bakery.
Chapter Fifteen
Amanda met Quinn at a tapas place, where they shared a few plates and a bottle of Fairmount Ridge rosé. After, they settled on a Frieda Kahlo documentary at Cinemapolis. She teased Quinn for insisting on a box of Junior Mints, but wound up eating her fair share. Quinn’s hand found hers and they held hands until the credits rolled. They walked out, fingers still entwined. Nothing remarkable really, but hands down the best date she’d been on in over a decade.
“At the risk of sounding cheesy, I’m going to put out there that I’m not ready for this date to be over,” Quinn said.
Cheesy or not, she was one hundred percent on the same page. “Is it cheesy if I agree?”
Quinn shook her head slowly. “I’m going to go with no. Do you want to get a nightcap somewhere?”
Was Quinn being intentionally vague? And if so, was it hesitation or deference? Her instinct was to defer in return. But she liked Quinn and, for the first time in a long time, she was feeling…what? Sassy? Brazen? Whatever it was, it nudged her to take a chance. “I’d love that. The Watershed is nearby. Or we could go back to your place.”
Surprise flashed through Quinn’s eyes, but it seemed like the good kind. She ran her hand up the back of her neck, making Amanda’s fingers itch to do the same. “I do make a mean old-fashioned.”
Amanda angled her head slightly. “That’s convenient because I love an old-fashioned.”
Quinn frowned. “I’m disappointed we have two cars.”
“It’s okay. I’ll follow you.” She certainly didn’t want Quinn feeling obligated to bring her back to her car after. Whether that was after a drink or in the morning. As they walked to their cars, she stole a glance at Quinn and wondered if she was thinking the same thing. She’d find out soon enough.
Quinn texted her address, but Amanda had no trouble following her Subaru up 96 a few miles towards Trumansburg. The apartment complex Quinn pulled into was small, maybe a half dozen two-story buildings.
Quinn led her up a short walk and a flight of stairs. Inside, she flipped on a few lights. “It’s rather generic.” Quinn sounded apologetic. “It’s a temporary arrangement I’ve let become less temporary than I intended.”
“I was lucky after my divorce. Since the kids were going to be with me most of the time, I kept the house.”
“That makes sense. And it is a great house.”
She shrugged. “It is. The problem is it feels strange to think about selling it, even if I’m not sure I want to spend the rest of my life there.”
Quinn shook her head. “Not strange at all, especially once the kids are moved out. It’s the perfect time to consider your options.”
“Is it wrong to say I want only two bedrooms but twice as much kitchen?”
Quinn didn’t hesitate. “Nope.”
“Thank you. Even if you’re just saying that to be nice.”
“Home is about having the space you want and need. I’m not saying you’re going to have an easy time finding it, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have it.”
She smiled. “You have a gift for saying the right thing.”
“Can I quote you on that? My sisters are convinced I have an uncanny gift for putting my foot in my mouth.”
Her smile gave way to a snicker. “Do you?”
Quinn blew out a breath and looked at the ceiling. “I have my moments.”
“Don’t we all?” She certainly said her share of things she wished she could take back.
“We should drink to that, but I’ve invited you in and neglected to fix you a drink.”
She tipped her head. “I’m in no rush.”
“Still, I can’t have you thinking I’m a lousy host.” She gestured to the couch. “Make yourself comfortable.”
“Sure there’s nothing I can do to help?”
“I’m a terrible cook, but I can handle a cocktail. I’ll be right back.” Quinn retreated to the small galley kitchen that more than sufficed for her minimalist culinary endeavors. She pulled down a pair of highball glasses and got to work muddling the sugar and bitters with slices of orange. The methodical process calmed her as much as the promise of liquid courage did. “I forgot to ask if you prefer bourbon or rye.”
“Will you think less of me if I don’t have a preference?”
She poked her head through the doorway. “If you could see the things that pass for dinner around here, you’d know I’m the last person to judge anyone’s tastes.”
Amanda laughed. God, she had a sexy laugh. “I’ll have what you’re having.”
Quinn finished the drinks with a splash of water and a pair of oversize ice cubes. She joined Amanda on the sofa and handed her one. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.”
They sipped. They talked about progress at the bakery and some of Quinn’s other projects. She’d worried they might run out of things to talk about, but they didn’t. At some point, Amanda put her hand on Quinn’s knee. Quinn set down her glass and used the opportunity to get closer. She was totally paying attention to the conversation, but she also couldn’t tear her eyes away from Amanda’s mouth. When Amanda finished her drink and licked her bottom lip, the temptation proved too strong.
Quinn meant to kiss her lightly. But Amanda’s lips were impossibly soft and s
he tasted of bourbon and orange. It took every ounce of restraint to pull back and search Amanda’s eyes. What she saw in them—arousal and longing and maybe a trace of challenge—sent her pulse racing. The pounding in her chest had nothing on the throb between her legs. “I’m not sure one kiss should test the limits of my self-control.”
“I think you should worry less about your self-control and more about kissing me again.”
Short of taking off her clothes, there wasn’t a single thing sexier Amanda could have done. The encouragement was exactly what she needed, even as it threatened to short-circuit her brain. She took the glass from Amanda’s hand and set it on the coffee table. And kissed her again.
The slow slide of lips became urgent. A tease of tongues became a fervent exploration. Amanda opened for her, welcomed her in. Quinn wanted to steep herself in Amanda, her taste, her textures.
She didn’t recall doing it, but they somehow slid down on the sofa. Amanda’s hands roamed over her, restless and seeking. Quinn braced herself with one arm, allowing her free hand to creep under the hem of Amanda’s shirt.
It was fun. It was playful. It was really fucking hot.
When Amanda’s fingernails scratched lightly down the skin of her back, she realized how close they were to having sex right there on the couch. She eased away and ran a hand through her hair. “It seems silly to be confessing this, but I feel a bit like a teenager right now.”
“It’s not silly. It’s cute.” Amanda sat up and ran a hand through her own disheveled locks. “You know what would make you feel a lot less like a teenager?”
Quinn sat back and tried to slow her skittering pulse. It was a good thing Amanda couldn’t see the hormones and adrenaline coursing through her. If she could, chances were good she’d never take her seriously again. “What’s that?”
“Asking me to stay the night.”
Her heart went from racing to stopped dead in about two seconds flat. A thousand questions flashed through her mind. Was Amanda serious? Was staying over code for having sex? Was her mouth hanging open and, if so, did it make her look like a complete idiot? None of those were the one Amanda had put out there. Even if everything about this had her tied in knots and practically tripping over herself, she knew enough to ask the question Amanda had essentially requested. “Do you need to go?”
