When she pulled onto the University of Rochester campus the nextday, she realized it was the first time she’d ever done so. After stopping atthe visitor booth, she navigated to a parking lot and found a spot. A smallercampus that Cornell, but it had the same mix of old brick buildings coveredwith ivy and more modern designs. The student union was especially striking,triggering a vague memory that it had been designed by I.M. Pei.
She chuckled to herself. Once an architect, always an architect.
She was fifteen minutes early, but Daniella was already waitingfor her in the coffee shop where they’d agreed to meet. Despite Daniella’sassurances it wasn’t going to be a bad talk, a tingle of apprehension workedits way down her spine. Daniella stood. “Hey, Quinn.”
“Hi.” She tried for a friendly smile. “How’s the semester goingso far?”
The question seemed to relax her. “So far, so good. I’m prettysure organic chemistry is going to be the death of me, but otherwise…”
She trailed off and Quinn laughed. “I felt that way about mysecond semester of physics.”
Daniella shook her head. “Don’t tell me that. I’ve got physicsnext year.”
It seemed unlikely Daniella had invited her all this way todiscuss her course load, but Quinn wanted her to steer the conversation. “I’msure you’ll be great.”
Daniella smiled. “Thanks. Um, can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“Coffee would be great, but let me get it.”
The smile turned into a smirk. “Did my mother tell you to saythat?”
“No, it’s a rule of adulthood that when you hang out with collegestudents, you treat.” She hesitated, not sure whether to disclose the rest. “Ididn’t tell your mom I was meeting you.”
That seemed to give her pause, but eventually she nodded. “Iappreciate that.”
Even without her anxiety over this meeting, simple curiositywould be screaming for an explanation at this point. “So, what are you having?”
A few minutes later, they sat with matching mochas, topped withwhipped cream and drizzled with chocolate. If it had been Cal, she could havejoked about having similar tastes. But it wasn’t Cal. And she had no sense ofwhether she was in friendly territory or enemy.
Daniella took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Thegesture reminded her so much of Amanda when she’d set her mind to something.“First, thank you for driving all this way. I could have met you—”
Quinn waved a hand. “No worries. I like the drive and I rarelymake it up to Rochester.”
“Still. Thanks.” She stared at her coffee and chewed the insideof her lip for a moment, then looked up and made eye contact with Quinn. “I oweyou an apology.”
Maybe a small part of her thought—hoped—this meeting would beabout making peace, but she’d not allowed herself to expect it. “If you’ve beenhoping your parents would get back together, I’m sure it was difficult to seeyour mom dating someone else. You don’t need to apologize for that.”
“But I do need to apologize for giving M reasons to think that’swhat Mom wanted when those reasons didn’t exist.”
Daniella seemed to be owning a much bigger role in the recentbrouhaha than Quinn had believed. “What do you mean?”
Daniella huffed out a breath. “You know, I never really thoughtabout them getting back together. Mom and M, they never gave off that vibe. Andthen they did and I found out they’d hooked up and I don’t know, I got allcaught up in the possibility.”
Even if it unraveled her chances with Amanda, she could empathizewith that longing. Or, at least, she could separate the reality of her brokenheart from the kid who wanted her family to be together. “I can see how thatmight happen.”
“Yeah. Well,” she paused and frowned. “I shouldn’t haveinterfered and maybe I ruined everything, but I wanted to try to make itright.”
“I don’t think you should blame yourself. Grownups get intoplenty of trouble all on their own.”
“But I’m the one who told M she had a chance, should try. I toldher Mom said things she didn’t.” She shook her head. “It was stupid and it sobackfired.”
Quinn’s mind raced, wanting to press for enough details to pieceeverything together. “Does your mom know that?”
“Not yet. I, uh. I wanted to start with you.”
It didn’t make sense. “Why?”
“Because if I can convince you to give her another chance, thewhole situation will be a lot less shitty.”
She wanted a full explanation, but it felt weird being privy tothings Amanda didn’t know. Her desire for answers, for hope, won out. “I’m nottrying to make you relive it or feel worse, but do you think you could tell methe whole story?”
Daniella smiled, looking suddenly grownup. “I suppose it’s theleast I can do.”
Quinn sipped her mocha, glad she’d gone for the comfort drink andnot the stoic black coffee. “I don’t want you to feel you owe it to me, but I’dlike to understand.”
“For starters, I never liked Bella. To be fair, the feeling ismutual. She might teach college, but I’m pretty sure she doesn’t like kids,much less teenagers.”
Quinn tried to swallow a snicker. She knew firsthand being aprofessor at an Ivy League institution did not require such trivial things asliking students. “I’m sure that was hard.”
Daniella shrugged dismissively. “It was fine. She mostly steeredclear of us.”
The comment made her realize she had no idea what the custodyarrangement was when Cal and Daniella were too young to come and go as theypleased. “Were you at their house a lot?”
“M had every other weekend and dinner once a week. More routinethan a court-ordered thing.”
It hurt her heart to think about kids even knowing language likecourt-ordered, but this wasn’t the time to indulge those feelings. “Did theyget along, Amanda and Mel?”
Daniella let out a snort, then schooled her expression. “Sorry.It was, uh, iffy at first.
