Unpredictable

by K. A. Berg

  “It’s not my decision to move on from all this stuff that has me upset,” I correct them, now starting to realize why they don’t understand my funk. “I’m miserable because Alex made me a promise that if I felt overwhelmed and wanted to stop, we could. It wouldn’t change anything… only everything has changed. And I don’t know how we’re going to fix anything short of me agreeing to keep doing something that made me miserable in favor of his feelings.”

  Ashley shakes her head. “That’s not something you should have to do. Especially since you guys discussed this possibility in the beginning.”

  I nod, untucking my legs and sit up. “He acts as if this all came out of left field, but it didn’t. He might have been hearing what I was saying, but he certainly wasn’t listening. It’s like he doesn’t care how I feel at all. Should I continue to keep doing something that makes me miserable because it will make him happy? When does he start to care about my happiness? I’ve been a miserable bitch for the last couple months, and it’s like none of that matters. He doesn’t care that he broke an important promise in our relationship. How am I supposed to fix that?”

  As I glance at my friends’ faces, it’s clear none of them have the answer to my problem, but, at least, I see they have a little more clarity of the mess that is my life.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  QUINN

  USUALLY, I LOVE A GOOD RESTAURANT OPENING, ESPECIALLY one for a place that’s going to have a waiting list a mile long. Jordan’s buddy, Jaime, is a chef and tonight is the soft opening of his new restaurant, Rockland’s. The decor has a very industrial feel to it with a high open ceiling and metal accents. It’s cool sophistication without all the pretense.

  Last week, Jordan told me Jamie had asked him to invite all of us, and the last thing I wanted to do was say yes. The last thing I need is another night where I have to put on a smile and pretend to the world that I’m not falling apart at the seams.

  As I watch everyone around me enjoy themselves, I know I should have listened to my gut and made an excuse for missing this party.

  Typically, being surrounded by the people who matter most to me and seeing everyone happy brings a smile to my face, but not today. Everything seems diluted and drowned out by the rift between Alex and me. It’s New Year’s Eve and the new year is looking as shitty as the one coming to an end.

  Tanner and Ashley stand at a pub table wrapped around each other. He nuzzles her neck, and she laughs. He smiles at her as she walks away toward the restrooms. Next to them, Tiffany and Candace pick at the appetizers on the table while Candace tells Tiffany about something Mikey did earlier.

  Alex, Jordan, and Hailey are gathered at the bar. He’s so engrossed in the conversation, animated and smiling, completely oblivious to whether or not I’m here.

  “Things are still very tense between you guys,” Ashley says as she stops next to me and switches out my almost empty glass of wine with her full one. She has a sparkly tiara on her head and beads around her neck.

  I can’t seem to pull my focus from him as he laughs carefree with Jordan, Hailey, and some new guy who joined the conversation. “Tense is an understatement,” I huff with a little more attitude than necessary. It’s not Ashley’s fault Alex and I are barely speaking. “I can’t even recall the last time we laughed together.” I try to wash away my bitterness with the pinot noir Ash just handed to me, but it doesn’t seem to work.

  She slips her fingers into my free hand and squeezes gently. “Glaring daggers across the room isn’t going to relieve any of it. Why do you look so pissed at the fact he’s talking with them?”

  “I’m not pissed he’s talking with them, I’m pissed he isn’t talking to me.” I sigh. Looking down, I fixate on the swirl of the remaining wine in my glass, hoping to distract myself from the wave of emotions crashing through me. “I miss him, sweets. He’s my best friend, and we have not finished a real conversation in almost three months, longer really because I know I started pulling away. I gave him time and space, and now the space between us is growing so fast and so far, I can’t see how we can get back to where we were.”

  All I want to do is cry. I don’t feel anything like the Quinn I used to be, and I hate it. The Quinn I used to be would have never turned from her friends, walked onto the sidewalk while pulling her coat on and stuck a thumb into the cold winter air, hailing a cab to take her back to Jersey—like I’m doing right now.

  I don’t have it in me to keep up appearances tonight.

  In what seems to be our new form of communication, I shoot off a text to Alex.

  Taking a cab home.

  Happy New Year!

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  ALEX

  TAKING A CAB HOME.

  A part of me knows I should be concerned. I should ask why Quinn left the party only thirty minutes after arriving, but I don’t.

  Instead, I call out to the bartender for another round, relieved some tension left with her. Lately, being in the proximity of each other with the way things are feels like slowly suffocating.

  Behind me, I feel someone glaring at me. As I wait for my drink, I turn and spot Ashley off to the side looking at me with the same sad look in her eyes Quinn always has.

  I slam back a shot.

  I’m so sick of that look.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  QUINN

  MY MOTHER’S VOICE DRONES IN AND OUT AS I PUSH THE remaining pieces of zucchini around my plate. She’s explaining her and Diana’s new idea for a marathon to support the women’s shelter over on Henry Street. “We’ll ask for donations of products… you know the usual hygiene items and linens. We’ll have drop boxes set up along the path for the crowd to donate.”

  I nod my head, knowing I don’t have to give her my attention to know what she’s planning will be amazing for the shelter. My mother’s fallen in love with giving back since she’s been with Harold. It started after she volunteered to organize a fundraiser for the children’s wing of the hospital Harold works in. Needless to say, whenever she commits herself to organizing events like these, she helps raise a ton of money and awareness for the cause.

  “You’ll run won’t you?” she asks, catching my attention. “You and all the girls. Women helping women. If I could get Tanner to run as well, that’d be superb. He could draw a large crowd… more attention for the cause.”

  I doubt Tanner would agree, not because he wouldn’t want to help but because there are too many unknowns in a situation like that. But I’m not in the mood to explain it to her, so I decide I’ll deal with it later.

  “Umm hmm,” I agree.

  The sounds of a fork clattering on the porcelain of the restaurant’s dinnerware brings my attention back to my mother. It was her fork. Deep lines appear in the smooth, taut skin of her forehead. Her perfectly shaped eyebrows arch as she takes in a deep breath. “All right. What’s wrong?”

  “What?” I say with a shake of my head, trying to dismiss her question. “I’m fine.”

  She scoffs at my answer, catching the attention of the couple having lunch next to us. Flashing them a quick apologetic smile, I turn back to my mother, as her pursed lips open, no doubt with intentions to push for more.

  “You’ve barely heard a word I’ve said,” she points out. “You’ve not only agreed to run a marathon but to bring your friends along as well. Without the least bit of resistance. The last three events I put together you made a thousand excuses to get out of them all.”

  Shit! She’s right. The last couple events she’s done I’ve made excuses to get out of them. But only because I was already committed to a few galas for New Capital, and it was becoming consuming. I support her causes and I’m proud of the work she does, but I just needed a break this past summer.

  “You’re right,” I confess and revert the conversation back to the fundraiser to thwart any ideas she may have of prying. “I wasn’t fully listening, but I also wasn’t ignoring you. I can set up a drive for items at the office if you’d like. I can have
a box set up in the lobby and send out a memo. I can’t make any promises about the turnout, though.”

  Mother chuckles, something she never did in her old life. “You think you can placate me with that. While I appreciate the offer and will take you up on it, you’re not getting out of this conversation. You’ve been off for months now, since the fall. You ignored all the holidays. Enough is enough. What’s going on, Quinn?”

  Oh, the irony of her statement. She wants me to be open with her about this issue, which stems from the fact she was a shitty mother for half my life. How am I supposed to talk to her about my marital problems when for so long she allowed my father to treat her like shit? How am I supposed to tell her I was terrified of becoming her and in the battle not to let that happen, it happened anyway? I’m in a marriage that stopped being a marriage months ago, but it would hurt even more to leave.

  I love Alex, but he’s lost, as am I. He is the other half of my soul. I miss him, and I want him back, so I wait it out. But every day that passes Alex and I get further and further lost, making me wonder if we’ll ever find our way back to each other.

  I shake my head again. “This isn’t something I can talk to you about, Mom.”

  Pulling her napkin from her lap, she tosses in on the table and shuffles her chair closer. She angles into the table, leaning over as if she’s about to reveal where they buried Jimmy Hoffa. “I know we haven’t been close for a long time, but I’m still your mother, and I do love you. I don’t like seeing you like this.”

  My laugh sounds sardonic, even to my ears as I try to imagine what kind of marital advice my mother could offer me. She’s been married to Harold barely a year. I don’t realize I’ve said the words out loud until she responds. My mother, my prim and proper mother, rolls her eyes at me and lets out a scoff. Or maybe it was a snort. Whatever it was, it was a sound she’d never let anyone hear her make. “You think I don’t know about marital issues? Did you forget I was married to your asshole father for far longer than I should have been? I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life. Maybe a few of them can help you.”

  A bubble of irritation forms in my gut. Learn from her mistakes? Her mistakes are my problem. “But that’s just it, Mom. Your mistakes are the reason I’m a mess. I never wanted to get married. I never wanted to have children because, after seeing the world through your eyes, I didn’t want to be you. But Alex changed it all, and I let myself hope and dream, but some dreams aren’t meant to be, and now I have to pick up the pieces one by one when a few of them are missing.”

  A soft smile forms on my mom’s lips. She sits back in her chair, a touch of pride in her voice as she speaks. “I’m glad you don’t want to be me. I didn’t want to be me. You’re much stronger than I ever was. One thing I’ve always admired about the woman you’ve become is your ability to stand up to anything and anyone. You’re fierce and brave and never let anything get you down. Whatever is going on with you and Alex can be fixed. He loves you, and you love him. There was never any love between your father and me,” she pauses briefly. “Now tell me what’s going on.”

  The words start pouring from my mouth, almost as if I’m trying to make up for all the years I couldn’t divulge my problems to my mother and ask her to help me fix them. As if I don’t do this now, I may never get the chance to have this connection with my mother again, so I tell her how far Alex and I have fallen apart.

  “Sweetheart,” she says softly and with sincerity. “Personally, I think you’d make a great mom and would never repeat my mistakes. Your father was a shitty man making him destined to be a shitty father. Alex is wonderful and kind and loving, and the two of you would make excellent parents.”

  The woman skillfully manipulates me into disclosing my problems to her and then takes Alex’s side. “Mom, you’re supposed to be on my side here.”

  She laughs. “I am, Quinn. I was just giving you my opinion first. Now, second, you and Alex have to find a way to come to terms with the end of this and move on. The two of you need to be open to having a conversation where you talk about your feelings and then find a way to fix this.”

  “Why does everyone make it seem like having this conversation is so damn easy? I have no idea how to talk to the person Alex has become. It’s like I don’t know who he is anymore; how am I supposed to be open with a stranger?”

  “I wish I had all the answers for you, sweetheart,” she says, gripping my hand. “Maybe you don’t have to be open with this Alex but rather find a part of the old Alex you recognize and focus on that.”

  Is there any part of my Alex left?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  QUINN

  ONE MOMENT IS ALL IT TAKES.

  One moment. One decision and life is irrevocably changed.

  The only other time I’ve heard Jordan’s voice so distraught was when his dad died. After answering the phone and hearing how terrified he sounded, I left the office telling Kendra I was going to be gone the rest of the day, leaving with no clue what was exactly happening but knowing it was something significant. My mind tries to piece together what in the world could possibly be going on. Jordan wasn’t making sense on the phone. All I heard were cries and mumbles about Hailey.

  Rather than dealing with driving and having to find parking by Jordan’s brownstone, I grab a cab. When we turn onto his street, I brace myself for the worst, and I’m shocked when nothing looks out of place. No police cars. No ambulances. Nothing. Everything looks like it always does when we visit the McCallahan family. The wrought iron gate squeals as I walk through. The personalized wreath with the big “M” in the center that matches the mat reading “Welcome to our Home” hangs on the large dark double doors. None of the familiarity helps quell the pit of anxiety at the bottom of my stomach, which grows larger with each step closer to the front door.

  As soon as their ornate wooden door opens, Diana greets me with a sad smile before she pulls me into her. She squeezes me tightly and my pit doubles in size. “Hey, sweetie.”

  Her eyes are rimmed with red, and she no longer has on any mascara or eye makeup. Diana never leaves the house without her face done. “What’s wrong? What happened?” I ask.

  She ushers me inside and closes the door behind us. As I step further inside, I crane my neck looking around for Jordan. Diana grips my hand. “Hailey’s team was making an arrest today. It was supposed to be simple, kind of deal similar to your father’s. Only it didn’t go as planned. Shots were fired and. . .” She takes a shaky breath, struggling to go on.

  “What, Diana?” I ask, petrified to know the answer. “What happened?”

  Her lip quivers as she steels herself to continue. “Hailey took a bullet to the neck. It nicked her carotid artery. She bled out before anyone could do anything to save her.”

  My eyes close.

  No.

  Not Hailey.

  This can’t be happening. Hailey was young. She has a toddler and a husband. She was a good person. She took down the bad guys. Not the other way around. Without Hailey, I’d be in a six by six cell for the rest of my life instead of my father.

  I saw her two days ago when she came in to meet Jordan for lunch. She told me to hang in there, and Alex and I would find a way to work through our issues. She can’t be gone. It’s just not possible. I shake my head as if that will make it any less real.

  My heart hurts imagining the amount of pain Jordan must be enduring. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I lost Alex. Being distant from Alex these last few months has seemed like torture. Compared to what Jordan must be feeling, my issues are nothing more than a paper cut.

  Gathering my wits, I remind myself I need to keep it together and be here for Jordan at the moment. “Where is he?”

  “In the family room.”

  Rounding the corner, I walk to the back of the house where I find Jordan hunched over on the couch, sitting with his head in his hands. His entire body shakes with sobs.

  The moment he’s within reach, my arms enfold him into a hug. He bur
ies his head in the crook of my neck and lets out the most gut-wrenching sobs. His fingers dig into my back as he clings to my blouse. His tears break me, and I cry right along with him, wishing there was some way to tell him it would all be okay. Wishing I could tell him there’s been a mix-up and Hailey will be home tonight. But I can’t.

  Words aren’t spoken at first. I’m pretty sure there aren’t any words that could make a difference anyway.

  After some time, Jordan’s sobs ebb to hiccups, and he sits up. He looks as though he went twelve rounds with Mayweather. His eyes are swollen and red. His hair sticks up in every direction. His tie hangs half undone around his neck, and it looks like his shirt spent a year at the bottom of the hamper. I’d bet every dollar I have that he feels a thousand times worse than he looks. “Tell me what you need. Anything. You got it.”

  “Can you rewind the clock twelve hours and make my wife call in sick today?” he asks with a scoff.

  I wince. What a stupid thing to say. How else was he going to respond?

  He looks at the floor as speaks again. “We argued this morning. I told her she was working too hard and needed to cut back. Of course, she didn’t agree. She promised me after this case closed, she’d be home more. I just shook my head at her and said that’s what she’d been saying since she went back and there’d always be the next case so she should stop lying to herself and us. I was a dick.”

  He looks at me, tears streaming down his face. “I’ll never get to tell her I didn’t mean it. I’ll never get to say I’m sorry. Why didn’t I say ‘I love you’? Or even ‘Have a nice day’? Why? Because I had to be right. Making my point was more important. She left here feeling as though she was a bad mother and wife. I’m such a piece of shit.”