by Aurora Rey
She frowned, although it was hard to know if it was the comment or that there really might be nothing for her to do. “Any word on when he’ll be released?”
“Tomorrow. They want to keep him overnight to make sure there’s no fever or other signs of infection.” And then, as if sensing the question in Amanda’s mind, she added, “It’s standard practice. Nothing to be concerned about.”
She blew out a breath, relieved. But still worried. And suddenly exhausted. “Okay. Good.”
“Have you not even been home yet?”
She looked down at her khaki shorts and hiking boots. “I wanted to come straight here.”
Mel nodded. “Of course. I’m fine staying if you want to go shower and unpack and whatever.”
“Oh, no. I’m not going anywhere.” She looked over to the bed. Daniella had perched herself on the edge and she and Cal appeared to be heckling an episode of Judge Judy. “Have you both been here all day?”
Another nod.
“Why don’t you two take off and I’ll stay?”
“They’re going to kick you out at nine. We’ve already been warned.”
She imagined a harried nurse reading her rowdy family the riot act. “Well, I’ll stay until then.”
“How about we all stay and then you let me bring you home. I assume you don’t have a car.”
She didn’t. It hit her how she’d pretty much brushed Quinn off. She’d need to apologize. “I can get an Uber.”
Mel raised a brow. “Girlfriend not hovering nearby?”
There was a trace of snark or something similar in Mel’s voice, but Amanda didn’t have it in her to take her to task. Or attempt to explain. Not that she owed Mel an explanation anyway. “No.”
“How about I bring Daniella home and then swing back for you?”
If part of her knew it wasn’t the best idea, it was a part that didn’t have the energy to put up a fight. “That would be great.”
Mel grinned as though she’d been given the keys to the candy shop. “Perfect.”
She looked over at the bed again. “He’s really going to be okay, right?”
Mel slung an arm around her, much like she’d done with Cal, and pressed a kiss to her temple. “He’s going to be perfect.”
For just a second, she let herself sink into the comfort of Mel’s embrace. She’d known it to be true in an intellectual sense, but only in that moment did the rest of her believe it. “Right.”
Mel released her and turned to Daniella. “You ready to get back?”
Daniella looked Cal up and down and sighed. “I guess.”
The reluctance to leave told Amanda all she needed to know. Today had been rough on both her kids. She gave Daniella a hug. “Go get some rest. Are you driving back to Rochester tonight?”
She hesitated for a moment but ultimately nodded. “I’ve got the morning crew of kids and I won’t want to get up early enough to get there. I mean, unless you need me.”
“You go. I’ll text you updates.”
Daniella told Cal to stop being so much trouble, then she and Mel left. Since Cal didn’t seem to be in significant discomfort, she took the spot on the bed Daniella had vacated. “How are you really?”
He gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m fine. I’m sorry I freaked you out.”
She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Freaking out is my prerogative.”
“Where’s Quinn?”
The question caught her off guard. “I had her drop me off.”
“Oh.” Cal frowned. “Did she have somewhere to be?”
“Um, I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”
“Oh. Okay.” He smiled, but his voice conveyed disappointment.
“I mean, she was genuinely worried about you. I think she probably didn’t want to horn in on family time.” Only in justifying it to Cal did reality sink in. She’d done nothing to make Quinn feel welcome or wanted.
Cal lifted a shoulder. “I guess I’ve started thinking of her as family.”
Leave it to her kid to make her feel two inches tall, but not about the thing she was already beating herself up over. “Really?”
He sighed. “Not like I think you’re about to get married or anything.”
“Oh, well, as long as it’s not that.” How did this become the conversation?
“I just mean she’s been around a lot and, I don’t know, it’s kind of nice.”
Amanda’s shoulders slumped. She’d been so busy thinking about her time with Quinn as a selfish thing, it hadn’t occurred to her it might be something her kids actually liked, valued. Her terseness with Quinn on the ride down came back to her. She had been selfish, but not in the ways she’d thought.
“Was that the wrong thing to say? I’m sorry.”
She stopped pinching the bridge of her nose and looked over at her son. His color was almost back to normal and, thanks to whatever meds they’d pumped into him, he didn’t seem to be in any pain. And yet, there he was, sitting in a hospital bed, apologizing to her. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I was so focused on getting to you, I didn’t think about anything else.”
He shrugged, clearly not inclined to analyze her decisions to death. “It’s cool. I’m sure I’ll see her soon.”
She had to laugh. He made it sound so easy. “I’ll let her know you asked about her.”
“Did you guys have a good time?”
Amanda took a deep breath. The truth was she couldn’t remember having a more relaxing weekend. Even without all the sex. Quinn had this way of getting her to slow down, unplug. She hadn’t realized how bad she’d gotten at doing that. “We did.”
“Good. You don’t have enough fun.”
The comment hit home, almost as much as Cal asking about Quinn in the first place. “I have fun.”
He gave her an exasperated look. “You know what I mean.”
She could argue with him, but he was right. She wasn’t uptight, exactly, but between parenting and owning a business, she had a hard time shutting off. “Okay, okay.”
“I think it’s good for you, that’s all.”
He didn’t say it, but she could tell he meant Quinn was good for her. That hit home, too. Perhaps all the neat little compartments she’d created in her life weren’t so neat after all.
Chapter Twenty-four
After storing her camping gear and putting on a load of laundry, Quinn showered and put on fresh clothes. She made a cup of tea and picked up a book but couldn’t seem to focus. She set it down and turned on the television, which only made matters worse.
The worst part was not knowing which part of the last few hours made her feel worse—Amanda’s comment about their relationship or the fact that Amanda was going through this hugely stressful thing and Quinn wasn’t doing anything to make it better. She huffed out a breath and got up to pace. Definitely the latter. Not helping made every helper fiber of her being stand on edge.
She stopped pacing. That was it. She’d help. Surely, there was something she could do. She picked up her phone. After deleting three different versions, she finally hit send.
How’s Cal? How are you? Can I do/bring you anything?
Maybe it was overeager, but whatever.
Doing something calmed her nerves. She picked up her book again and managed to read a few pages before checking for a reply. After the fifth or sixth time of doing it, she set her phone down in disgust, only to have it chirp.
He’s good, all things considered. I’m going to stay until they kick me out for the night.
She hadn’t realized how worried she was until the news sent a wave of relief through her. She reread the message, searching for context that wasn’t there. Can I bring you dinner? A change of clothes?
Amanda’s reply came immediately. Thanks for offering, but I won’t be staying too late.
Quinn couldn’t repress a sigh. Getting confirmation she wasn’t needed sucked worse than feeling helpless in the first place. Ok. Let me know if you think of anything.
The typ
ing bubble appeared, but then vanished. Seconds ticked by, but no text came through. She went to switch her laundry, purposefully leaving her phone on the counter. It took all of two minutes, but she tapped the screen the second she got back.
You could come visit tomorrow. Cal should be released in the morning and he asked where you were. ;)
She might have preferred if Amanda specifically wanted her there, but Cal was a close second. And while the winky face could have been read any number of ways, she decided to read it as a playful, you’re part of the family gesture. That would be great.
Amanda didn’t reply, so she set her phone aside. She resumed pacing, but more slowly. This time, instead of freaking out, she considered what it would be like to actually be part of Amanda’s family. Her kids were beyond the age of needing—or wanting, probably—a stepparent. And given what she knew about Mel, she wasn’t eager to be in any sort of competition with her.
Was it possible to carve out a space of her own? She sighed. It might be more fair to ask if Amanda had any inclination to carve out space for her and, if so, what that space would look like. Especially since Daniella seemed so on the fence about her. Or on the fence about her mother dating at all. Hard to say. And not really her place to say.
That was the problem. Even at her boldest and most self-assured, a lot of it wasn’t hers to decide. She just had to put herself out there and hope for the best. The prospect, complete with having so little control over the situation, terrified her.
The thing was, she was pretty sure Amanda was worth it. No, that wasn’t accurate. Amanda was worth it. It was whether or not their relationship had enough potential to be worth it. It was the first time she’d needed to ask that question since her divorce.
Still. Things with Amanda felt different. For the first time in a long time, she felt inspired. Inspired to be adventurous. Inspired to take a chance. And perhaps most importantly and most terrifyingly of all, inspired to fall in love.
* * *
By the time Mel returned, Cal had fallen asleep and Amanda was struggling to stay awake. It had been an exceedingly eventful couple of days. Mel gave her a tender look that she did her best to ignore. “Ready?”
Amanda glanced at Cal. If she hadn’t known he’d just had surgery, she wouldn’t have guessed it. Oh, to have the resilience of an eighteen-year-old. “I guess so.”
“I can tell you don’t want to leave, but he’s fine. And you’ll do him more good tomorrow if you’re well rested.”
Mel was right. She wasn’t about a lot of stuff, but she was about this. “I know.”
“Come on.” Mel extended her hand.
She took it, but only because she could honestly use the help hefting herself out of the low chair. “Thanks.”
Before she could let go, Mel pulled her into a hug. “You doing okay?”
She let herself soak in the comfort it offered, but only for a second. She one hundred percent did not want to give the wrong impression. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I am. I’m sorry you had to do this alone.”
“We’re a team, remember?”
Funny how they didn’t feel like a team so much of the time they were married. “Are you sure you don’t mind driving me? I can call Erin or Julia or take a cab.”
The look of mild exasperation felt oddly more comfortable and familiar than the tender one a moment ago. “Could you relax and let me do something nice for you?”
Much like Cal’s comment about having fun, the question hit her. When had she become so rigid? “Sorry. Thank you for offering. I appreciate it.”
Mel grinned. “That’s better.”
They headed to the visitor lot. She made a show of opening the passenger door and Amanda slid in, letting herself melt into the leather seat. Mel rounded the hood and got in. She started the car and drove in the direction of Amanda’s house. How long had it been since they’d been in a car together, just the two of them?
Surreal or not, Amanda willed herself to relax. They weren’t sleeping together or fighting. They were back to what they’d managed to settle into over the years: comfortable.
“How are things at home?” She realized how little she’d asked about the state of Mel’s marriage and had a pang of guilt.
Mel shook her head. “I’ve moved out.”
She didn’t know why, but she’d expected Mel and Bella to reconcile. “Oh, no. Is it that bad?”
Mel shrugged. “I’m in one of those short-term apartments. We’ve told each other it’s temporary, but I don’t know.”
“I’m sorry.” She was, truly.
“Thanks.”
“Was it her idea or yours?” That part was probably none of her business, but she wanted to know.
“Mine. If we have any chance at all, we need to get some space, evaluate our priorities.”
Amanda had said essentially the same thing when their marriage tanked. Did Mel remember that? “I hope you can make it work.”
Mel glanced at her and lifted a shoulder. “I feel like it’s going to work out the way it’s supposed to.”
She let the cryptic reply sit. It was none of her business if and how things worked out, and she certainly didn’t want to give Mel the impression it was. Especially with how things were going with Quinn.
Quinn. She still felt bad about how she’d left things with her. Even if the brief text exchange made it seem like Quinn wasn’t upset, it didn’t make her behavior okay. She’d flung her own guilt and other emotional nonsense on her and all but said she regretted going away together. Which was uncalled for but also untrue.
Quinn had gotten her—invited, nudged, and inspired her—to unplug from her life and responsibilities and just think about herself. Yes, the timing of Cal’s second ever time being hospitalized sucked. But Quinn had no way of knowing that and neither did she. Yes, she wished she could have been there. But her kids were neither helpless nor dependent on her for their well-being. She’d gone out of her way to raise them to be anything but those things.
She owed Quinn an apology. Not a few words over text, either. Because she needed to do a lot more than apologize. She needed Quinn to understand not only how much fun she’d had—and she’d had plenty—she needed Quinn to understand what the weekend meant to her.
“I’m dying to know what you’re thinking right now.”
The sound of Mel’s voice startled her. She’d almost forgotten Mel was sitting right there next to her. “Just zoning, I think.”
“You must be exhausted, between today and all the outdoor rustic stuff.” Mel curled her lip, her disdain evident.
“Yeah, must be that.” No need for Mel to know the exact nature of her outdoorsy activities, or her indoor ones for that matter. Given the state of Mel’s marriage, it would be rubbing salt in the wound. The analogy gave her a flashback of Mel and Bella’s wedding. Funny how the tables could turn.
Mel pulled into the driveway and, even though there was no need, cut the engine. She started to say she had her keys, but Mel was already out of the car and coming around to open her door. On another day, she might have poked fun at the gallantry. Today, she was too tired.
“Thank you again for the ride.”
“Happy to. It was nice to have a few minutes alone.” For a second, she thought Mel was going to attempt to walk her to her door. But she stuck her hands in her pockets and rocked back on her heels. Then she looked up at the stars.
“You okay?” It wasn’t like Mel to get overly reflective.
“I’m working on it. Ask me again in a few weeks.” She accompanied the second statement with a wink.
Amanda resisted the urge to read too much into it or ask for clarification. Like she’d said, to herself at least: it was none of her business. “Good luck sorting it all out.”
Mel gave her a knowing look, paired with a knowing smile. “From you, I’ll take it.”
The conversation was getting weirder by the second, but she couldn’t tell if it was Mel or her own exhaustion. “I can
probably handle discharge tomorrow if you have other things you need to do.”
Her expression turned serious. “No, I’ll be there. I want to be there.”
“Okay. I’ll plan to see you then.” She fished her keys out of her purse and started up the walk.
“Hey, Amanda?”
She turned. “Yes?”
Mel offered her a playful nod. “Those hiking shorts look good on you. You’ve still got the best legs of any woman I know.”
Amanda blinked, at a loss for words. Mel didn’t wait for her to come up with any. She smiled and got back in her car and was gone. Amanda stood there for a long moment, staring at the driveway where Mel had been. What the hell was that?
It didn’t matter. Mel was no longer hers to figure out or explain, to navigate or fight or anything else with. Which was a good thing, because she didn’t have the wherewithal or the inclination to try. Instead, she shook her head and let herself into the house.
She climbed the stairs, peeling off clothes as she went. In the shower, she closed her eyes. It wasn’t difficult to push aside all thoughts of Mel as the hot water ran over her tired muscles. Even Cal and the panic that gripped her when she learned he was in the hospital faded to the background.
She lathered her body and gave her mind over to Quinn, to the memories of showering together and every other magical moment of their two days in the woods. And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t try to rein herself in or be reasonable or rational. She just let herself enjoy it and maybe, a little, imagine what a whole lifetime of that might look like.
Chapter Twenty-five
Amanda opened the door and sighed. Fewer than twenty-four hours had passed since she last saw Quinn, but seeing her there sent a ripple of calm through her. The potency of that, the immediacy, hit her. “Hi.”
“How’s the patient?”
“Already annoyed he has to stay in bed for a few days.”
Quinn smiled. “That’s a good sign, right?”
“It is.” She stepped back so Quinn could come inside.
Quinn angled her head. “Is someone else here?”
