Mel folded her arms and leaned forward. “Are you as freaked outby all this as I am?”
She chuckled. “A state of general disbelief is all.”
“You always were the levelheaded one.”
“For better or for worse.” She blew out a breath. “Coffee?”
“I’d love some.”
Mel followed her to the kitchen. She poured a fresh cup andrefilled her own. Cal came bounding down the stairs looking at once completelygrown up and like her little boy about to take on the first day of school.“Hey, M.”
“Ready to load up?” Mel asked.
He nodded affably. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
It took less than an hour to load both vehicles and about thesame to drive to Cornell. They unloaded his things with the help of a slew ofmove-in volunteers, then left him to his first day of orientation. She and Melwent through family orientation sessions, just as they had at Rochester theyear before. The emotional magnitude of dropping her baby off at college wasmitigated by having a better sense of how it all worked.
Mel opted to head to her office for a bit when things wrapped up,making their good-bye quick and tidy. For some—or perhaps many—reasons, thedrive home felt about twice as long as the drive there. She pulled into thedriveway dirty, sweaty, and exhausted. And alone. She hadn’t expected the alonepart to bother her. She liked the quiet and there were already plenty of nightsshe had the house to herself. Something about this, though, felt permanent.
Inside, she climbed the stairs and headed straight for theshower. Being clean, and in a pair of loose fitting cotton pants and a tanktop, made her feel better. As did pouring a glass of wine and flopping on thesofa. Even if it was barely six in the evening.
She picked up her phone. A text from Cal about the horrors of icebreakers and one from Mel about being glad they could have the day together,all things considered. She sent a cackling GIF to Cal, but pondered herresponse to Mel for a long minute.
I’d like togo back to how things were before. She hit send before realizing themultiple possible interpretations of “before.” Before we slept together.
The reply bubble appeared, then vanished. Minutes ticked by andshe felt like an idiot waiting for a response. Instead, she switched over toher thread with Quinn. Other than a message that morning wishing her luck andCal the best, there was nothing. No request to get together. But also noassertion she didn’t want to get together.
She needed to give it some time. Erin had said as much. Jack,too. Julia was more for hashing it out, but not communicating—and the power ofthe grand gesture—were still fresh in her mind. She shook her head. Quinn hadbasically asked for space, so that’s what she was going to give her.
I want toagree, but I can’t bring myself to regret what happened between us.
She stared at Mel’s words. It was easier for her to say. Her lifewas already imploding when they hooked up.
Not theshowy scene that embarrassed us both. The reconnecting. Appreciating who we arenow in new ways.
Tears pricked her eyes, not because Mel was wrong, but becauseshe was right. Hooking up with Mel woke her out of a hibernation she hadn’teven realized she was in. In some ways, it put her in the mindset to open herheart to Quinn. Even with the havoc the whole thing had wreaked, she couldn’tbring herself to regret it. Yeah.
Is thereanything I can do to make it right?
She had this mental picture of Mel showing up at Quinn’s officeand pleading her case. Tryto get Daniella back to a good place. Send. Sigh. I think the rest is mine to dealwith.
I have agood feeling it’s going to work out. You’re a catch and Quinn isn’t an idiot.
The assertion—the closest thing to complimenting Quinn Mel hadmanaged—made her chuckle. Ijust need to convince her that taking a chance on me doesn’t make her one.
Mel replied with the laughing emoji, then the crying one, andfinally a heart. She reiterated her opinion and wished Amanda a good night.Amanda thanked her and set her phone aside. She should probably eat dinner, butfood was the last thing she wanted.
She padded into the kitchen to refill her wine glass and grabbeda sleeve of crackers. A hangover after her first night as an empty nester wouldbe rather pathetic. She returned to the sofa, picked up her phone, and onceagain contemplated texting Quinn.
She messaged Erin instead, her only other single and potentiallyhome by herself friend. But the text went unanswered. Given her luck, andErin’s, Erin was on some hot date who would turn out to be the love of herlife.
God, that smacked of bitterness. Enough. She got up and physicallyshook herself. Whatever happened with Quinn, she had a full and happy andsatisfying life.
Only, for some reason, telling herself that had tearsthreatening.
The thing was, she did have all that. It was more than a lot ofpeople had and she was grateful. But she missed Quinn. It had only been a fewdays, but she missed her company, her body. And, truthfully, it was more thanthat. She missed the sense of optimism Quinn seemed to bring into every roomshe entered, her unflappable sense of adventure. And perhaps most of all, shemissed who she was with Quinn—a braver and more carefree version of herself.
What was worse, being bitter or pathetic? Since it felt like shewas pushing the limits of both, probably better not to ask. She carried herempty glass to the kitchen and headed upstairs. Maybe she could read herself tosleep.
In bed, she managed a chapter before giving in. She picked up herphone. You don’t need torespond, but I wanted you to know I’m thinking about you. She addedand deleted I miss youat least five times before sending the message without. No pressure. That wasthe point.
She went back to her book. By midnight, she turned the last pageand her eyes finally felt heavy. She turned off the lamp, pulled the blanketsup, and did her best not to think about the fact that Quinn hadn’t texted herback.
Chapter Thirty
Short of a
