by Lacey Black
“Fuck no, it isn’t. They’re hard and messy and usually end with a shit ton of pain,” I state.
“Well, you’re partially right. They are hard and can be damn messy, but not all of them end that way. Look at me and Cricket. Hell, look at Mom and Dad.”
I roll my eyes. “You and Cricket are still in the pre-honeymoon phase where everything is sleeping naked and random blowjobs. That shit doesn’t last.”
He sits up straight. “You’re right, it doesn’t last. But do you know what does? Friendship, loyalty, and a commitment deeper than anything you’ll ever know. A love so pure you can’t imagine spending one day away from them, let alone the rest of your life. You keep bringing up Mom and Dad and her pain. Why do you think she hurts so bad, Royce? Because their love was deep and true, but don’t think for one day they didn’t have to work on it. They made it look easy, but they worked hard on that shit. I know it because I live it. I spend every day trying to be the best me and do right by Cricket, to love her more than anyone else in the world possibly could. And if my time with her is short, then I know I did everything I was capable of doing to show her how much I loved her.”
He looks me straight in the eye and adds, “Like Dad did for Mom.”
The room feels heavy and dark, like I can’t catch my breath.
“But now Mom is alone,” I whisper, hating the weakness I feel, the vulnerability that weighs on me.
“Yeah, she is, but you should ask her sometime about it. I bet she’d tell you falling in love with Dad and being with him was worth the heartache, worth the pain. She’d do it all over again in an instant, just to feel that love once more. Do you know how I know that, Royce? Because I feel that every day. That’s how much I love Cricket. If something happened to her tomorrow, heaven forbid, I’d go back and love her again and again, even with the same result. Do you know why?”
I glance up, knowing the answer. “Because you love her.”
“With everything I am.” He takes another drink of his beer. “Now, let’s talk about your dumbass and how you fucked up the best thing to happen to you.”
I snort. “Don’t hold back, brother.”
He grins. “Oh, I don’t plan on it. I’ve been waiting for this day for years.”
I laugh. “Well, let me have it then.”
“You’re in love with Quinn and you’re scared. You’re afraid of the fallout, of the hurt.” He leans forward and gives me a pointed look. “Well, what if it doesn’t end? What if it doesn’t hurt? What if you actually live the rest of your life with a beautiful woman who wants to spend it with you too? It’s hard to believe someone as smart as her would pick you, but by the looks of what I saw last weekend, I’d say she’d do it in a heartbeat, Royce, if you didn’t already fuck it up.”
I sigh, recalling the look on her face last weekend when I told her it was fun, but over. She tried to be strong, to not act like my words were affecting her, but that wasn’t true. I saw the ache, the hurt in those blue eyes, yet chose to ignore it. I told myself it was for the best, even if it hurt like hell.
Fuck, did it hurt like a son of a bitch.
Still does.
“Listen, I don’t know if this thing between you and Quinn is forever. I don’t know if she’s the one for you anymore than I knew Cricket was the one for me in the beginning. All I’m saying is you owe yourself the chance to find out, Royce. Don’t be a fucking pussy. You’ve always been my big, tough brother, who fights in wars and changes the world. Don’t make me take you off the pedestal I put you on when you were seven and chased that little shit of a dog away from biting my ass.”
I snort out a laugh. “That dog was a dick,” I add, remembering how the little ankle biter used to chase my little five-year-old brother around the neighborhood, barking up a storm. One day, I went outside to play and found that dog trying to bite Rueben in the sandbox. I grabbed a plastic shovel and chased it all the way back home. The owner finally put up a fence in her backyard after that, and Rueben wasn’t scared to play outside anymore.
“He was,” Rueben confirms with a grin.
I sit back and finish off my beer, thinking about what he said. Do I know Quinn is the one for me? Nope, not at all. But do I owe myself the chance to find out? Probably.
A shadow falls over our table, and when I glance to my right, I see blondie. April. “Hey, you. We were talking about heading back to our hotel and sitting in the Jacuzzi. Wanna join us?” she asks, batting her overly-done eyelashes and giving me the “I want to suck your dick” smile. A month ago, I probably would have already been out of my seat, but now? Now, all I can think about is Quinn.
“Sorry, but I think I’ll pass tonight. Enjoy your evening,” I tell her and watch as her face falls.
“Well, if you change your mind, we’re at the Holiday Inn, room 620.” She draws her finger across my shoulder and taps it on the back of my neck for good measure before turning and heading back to meet her friends.
“Why didn’t you go?” my brother asks, looking at me as he takes the final swig of beer.
Shrugging, I answer, “I guess she’s not my type.”
Rueben snorts, no doubt not missing the resemblance between April and Quinn. “So what is your type?”
“Blonde with blue eyes,” I reply, knowing I’ve just given the exact description of the woman who left our table. “But also funny and smart.”
“I’m still wondering just how smart Quinn really is if she was with you,” Rueben teases, making me smile. “So what are you going to do?”
“I’ll think of something,” I reply, pushing my empty bottle aside as my mind already starts to spin with ideas. “Something that tells her exactly how I feel about her.”
“Which is?”
I just smile.
No way am I telling him I love Quinn before I’ve had the chance to tell her. Even if I take the leap and she sends me packing, at least I’ll know. I won’t spend any time second-guessing myself and my decisions.
But my brother’s right, even though I’d never say it aloud.
What if I get to spend the rest of my life with a woman who wants to spend hers with me? As scary as it is, that really doesn’t sound too bad.
Not bad at all.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Quinn
It’s a lazy Saturday night as I make my way home from grocery shopping. Yes, that’s me. Getting groceries on a gorgeous Saturday night so I can head home to watch movies and fall asleep. Alone.
As much as I’ve enjoyed living on leftover pizza and the measly contents of my refrigerator for the last week, I know it’s not feasible anymore. I’ve eaten everything but a box of saltines and the bottle of ketchup. So I made the dreaded trip to the grocery store to fill my cabinets and fridge.
While there, I actually stumbled into a very nice man in the produce aisle. I was reaching for some avocados when I accidentally hit the stack and a few rolled away. He quickly grabbed them before they were able to fall on the floor, saving the green fruit from becoming bruised and mushy. I commented on his Superman reflexes, which resulted in a wide grin that could make even the happiest of married women blush.
We chatted for a few minutes, and I could tell he was flirting. A quick ring finger glance confirmed he was single, or at least not a ring wearer, and before I knew it, he was asking for my phone number.
A part of me was ready to decline the invitation that would soon follow the exchange, most likely dinner at some point, but then I remembered I’m single. I’m free to date and see men of my choosing whenever and wherever I wanted. It was a sobering realization, one that had me offering my cell number to be programmed into his phone for later. My heart was heavy as I waved goodbye and hurried to the check-out counter, needing to put just a little distance between myself and the handsome stranger who wants to take me on a date.
Sad, isn’t it?
I have a perfectly viable dating option, one who seems eager to see me again, and all I can do is think of someone who doesn’t wan
t me anymore.
That’s why I’ll probably accept Robert’s invitation when it comes one day this next week. To help push me over the hump of missing Royce and wishing things were different.
As I pull into my driveway, something catches my eye. A bag is sitting on my porch by the door. I wonder if Sabrina is returning something she borrowed or maybe even Joy dropping off those samples of the new brand of cosmetics she found and loves.
I slip out of the car and glance around. I’m not sure why. No one is here. I click the button on my key fob to pop the trunk and grab a few paper bags before stepping on the porch. As I get a closer look at the bag, my heart starts to hammer in my chest. It’s an alcohol bottle, no doubt. I can see the top of it sticking out of the paper bag. In fact, it’s probably the same brand that was left on my porch just a month ago.
Tears fill my eyes as I slip my key into the lock and open the door. I ignore the small bag and take in the first trip of groceries, ignoring it again as I exit the house to grab the rest of my food. Once that’s safely delivered to my kitchen and it’s all put away, only then do I step outside. The bag is like a neon sign, even though it’s a plain brown bag. When I flip it over, there’s no message written across the paper sack like the first time.
The wetness in my eyes falls down my cheek as I stare at the contents of the bag. Why is he doing this? What does it mean? Does he think it’s funny to mess with me, toy with my emotions? He says he wants to move on, but this? This borders on cruel and mean.
A dog barks in the distance, the sound stealing my breath. I jump up and spin around, eagerly glancing down the road. Only when the dog comes into view, it’s a small one attached to the leash of her female owner. My heart sinks like the Titanic.
It’s been a week since he left and hasn’t so much as called or texted. Frankly, I didn’t expect him to, so why is he leaving this bottle of tequila by my door now?
Frustrated, I grab the bottle and head inside, locking the door behind me as I go. I head for the kitchen and pull the leftover tequila and margarita mix from the cabinet. When Joy left it behind, I didn’t think I’d have a reason to drink it, let alone so soon afterward. But here I am, doctoring up my first margarita with an extra shot of alcohol, the new bottle of top shelf tequila staring at me from the counter.
Sighing, I slowly sip my drink. Wow, yeah, too much tequila, but I don’t care. I’m drinking it anyway. Maybe it’ll help numb the ache in my chest for just a little bit. I take my glass to the living room, but don’t really feel like watching television. I could go through the paperwork I brought home to review this weekend, but that doesn’t exactly sound like fun either, so instead, I head for the front door once more.
The night is a cooler evening, which lets me know fall is just around the corner. I take a seat on my swing and slowly start to rock. The motion is soothing, even though my gut is churning. I definitely should have eaten something before drinking, but oh well. I’ll heat something up in a bit.
When the night air temperature really starts to drop, I slip inside and grab the throw blanket on the back of the couch. I probably should just stay inside, but for some reason, the outside is beckoning me. I toss the blanket over my legs, slowly sip the lime drink, and listen to the quiet night settle around me.
I catch movement out of the corner of my eye and my chest tightens. A man is running toward me, a big dog trotting beside him. I stand up to get a better view and drop my glass, spilling the contents of my margarita all over the porch. The man stops in the road and looks my way. My heart stops beating.
Royce.
He's here.
“Are you okay?” he whispers, his voice sounding deep and gravelly.
“I, uh, spilled my drink,” I confess in what feels like poetic déjà vu.
Under the streetlight, I see the whites of his teeth as he smiles. Royce takes a step closer, Jack practically pulling him from the roadway to get to me. “Easy, Jack,” he says, not moving onto my property without my permission.
“It’s okay. He can come up here,” I find myself saying before I can give it a second thought.
“You sure?” he asks, not making any move to release his dog.
I nod eagerly, suddenly so very excited to see Jack after only a week’s absence. “I’m sure.”
Royce reaches down and unclips the leash. He barely has the words, “Behave, Jack,” out of his mouth before the dog takes off like a rocket. He runs toward me, his ears flapping and his tongue dangling. I move to the stairs and meet him as he leaps up and slams into me with all his weight behind him.
“Umph,” I groan, as the air leaves my lungs and my ass hits the floor.
“Shit!” Royce hollers and is at my side a second later. “I should have known he’d be a little eager,” he says, reaching down and helping me stand. The moment my hand is in his, a zip of electricity bolts through my blood, landing squarely between my legs.
“It’s okay,” I say the moment my feet are under me again. “He just missed me, isn’t that right, Jack?” I ask, dropping to my knees to get down to his level.
I swear I hear, “He’s not the only one,” whispered from Royce, but there’s a good chance I’m hallucinating right now, so I’m sure that was in my head.
“Jack, you know better than to jump, don’t you?” I ask the eager pup. He gives me a sheepish look before licking me clear across my face. “Thanks,” I mumble with a laugh as I wipe doggy drool from my chin.
When I glance up at his owner, he’s wearing a broad smile. One that holds a touch of happiness and a pinch of relief. It’s the first time I get a real good look at him too. Royce is wearing a T-shirt and shorts, along with his favorite running shoes. His hair is a touch longer and his facial hair a little more pronounced than usual. It’s like he hasn’t bothered with a trim in a few days.
But do you know what?
He still looks positively breathtaking.
“I was going to say the same thing,” he whispers, reaching up and swiping my hair from my forehead.
“What?”
“You said I was breathtaking, and I was going to say the same. You look absolutely beautiful, Quinn.”
Suddenly, I realize how very close he is. He’s directly in front of me; close enough our bodies are practically touching. I clear my throat, intent on taking a step back, but my legs don’t seem to want to work right. “Wh-what are you doing here?” I stammer, trying to clear my head.
“Well, Jack has been restless lately and wanted to go for another run. Apparently, he wanted to say hello, because he picked this route all by himself.”
I can’t help but grin. “All by himself, huh?”
Royce shrugs. “Well, maybe he had a little help,” he replies with a smirk of his own. Then his face falls serious. “The truth is I wanted to see you.”
“You did?” I ask, my heart hammering so loud, I’m certain he can hear it.
“I did. I have something to say to you, Bestie Tami with an I.”
I gasp at the use of my nickname. All I can do is gape up at him and wait for whatever it is he has to say.
“I thought I could treat you like every other woman I’ve met. I thought I could keep it simple and fun and walk away. Turns out, I can’t because you’re not like every other woman at all. You’re the woman, Quinn. My woman. The one who makes me laugh, who I can’t stop thinking about, and who makes me want to think about a future I’ve never thought I’d have. You, Quinn, are the reason I want to throw every trick up my sleeve out the damn window, because I don’t need lines or come-ons with you. I just need you.”
I’m not sure when I started to cry, but it happened at some point in his speech. The large pad of his thumb swipes beneath my eye as he gently grabs my hip and pulls me close. “I’m sorry I was an idiot. I’m sorry I walked away and hurt you. But most of all, I’m sorry I didn’t just tell you I loved you that night instead of treating you like every other woman.”
My mouth falls open and my eyes go wide. “You love me?
” I whisper.
“So fucking much,” he says, sliding his other arm behind my back. “The question now is how do you feel about me?”
I start to open my mouth to respond, when he cuts me off.
“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, Quinn. I didn’t say that to force you to say it back. You can say it whenever you’re ready, but I wanted you to know, okay?”
“Know?”
“That I love you.”
I smile again. “I just wanted to hear you say it again,” I state with a giggle. Royce laughs, his lips making a slow descent toward mine. Just as they brush across mine, I whisper, “I love you too, Royce.”
He freezes and pulls back, his eyes wide. “Yeah?”
I nod impatiently. “I knew I loved you that night too.”
Royce closes his eyes and lets out a deep sigh. “Thank fucking Chr—” he starts, but stops himself. “I mean, thank goodness.”
Another bubble of laughter slips from my throat. “So what was it you were about to do before I opened my mouth?”
“You mean this?” he asks, claiming my lips hard and fast in a dizzying kiss. His mouth is full of determination and love as he coaxes my mouth open and his tongue delves inside. It’s like a homecoming, a celebration as peace and desire roll through me. His hands hold the sides of my face, as if it were a delicate piece of china, but he never deepens the kiss.
He pulls back and stares at my swollen, wet lips. “I’d really love to kiss you some more, but I need to get home.”
Wait, what?
The corner of his mouth turns upward as he gazes down at me and slides this thumb across my bottom lip. “I can tell by your eyes you’re confused, so let me explain. I’m not staying tonight, even though I want to. Fuck, I want to so bad, but I’m not rushing this.”
“But what if I want you to rush it?” I ask, my hands gripping the back of his shirt.
A smile spreading from ear to ear. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll rush it soon, but not tonight, Bestie.” He places a chaste kiss on the tip of my nose and takes a step back and pulls a folded envelope from the pocket of his shorts.
