But later, as Quinn moved inside me and the stars exploded and the heavens opened up and the earth spun so wildly out of control I clung to him like a terrified child, I knew I had to be careful.
All my rules were broken.
All my walls were down.
I slept alone that night.
Twenty-Three
QUINN
My condo was ready. I hadn’t said anything to Jaime over Valentine’s weekend, and then it had been so intense the following weeks, sleeping together almost every night, that I hadn’t even thought about moving out. I told myself that I was paid up through the end of February and could take my time moving to the new place, but when a week went by and I still hadn’t even called the movers, I admitted to myself what was happening.
I was in love with her, and I was scared to break the spell.
It was like something magical had happened on Valentine’s Day, and I’m not just talking about her finger in my ass.
I mean like real magic.
Suddenly she was opening up to me about her feelings, inviting me to stay the night, letting me hold her closer, tighter, longer. Without words, she was telling me that I made her happy, that she trusted me, that she cared for me. Sometimes I even felt like she was on the verge of telling me she loved me—and I knew I’d almost said it to her a bunch of times. But neither of us ever went through with it.
Just another game of chicken.
But all day, every day, all I thought about was her—wondering what she was doing, remembering things from the night before, anticipating when I’d see her next, thinking of things I wanted to do with her, show to her, say to her. It was almost ridiculous—I felt like a twelve year old with his first crush. I couldn’t get enough of her.
Occasionally I felt her pull back slightly, nights where she left my bed and went to sleep in her own, times when she slipped out of my arms when I would’ve kept holding her, but I understood her need to keep some personal space, maintain some distance. It made her feel safe, in control of her feelings. And those instances were the exception, not the rule.
She wanted to be with me more often now, even if it was just sitting next to me on the couch while she worked. When an unusually warm day caused a big snowmelt, she wanted to take a walk and even held my hand part of the time. She listened to me blather on about what courses to take next term, debate whether I’d make a good teacher (she thought I would make a great one), and fret about what the smartest investments would be for my savings if I went in that direction, since it meant I’d never make the kind of money I’d made modeling.
“Who cares?” she’d said. “You should do what you’re passionate about, not what makes the most money.”
I knew she was right, but I was also trying to think ahead, and Jaime was a woman who focused on the present. I had to think about the reality of living, and hopefully supporting a family, on a teacher’s salary, unless I kept a hand in modeling part-time, which would mean less free time and more traveling. I had to give it some thought.
And like it or not, I had to move out of Jaime’s house.
Yesterday, I’d called the movers and arranged for them to get my furniture out of storage and deliver it to my new place on Tuesday, which was two days away. I was hoping nothing would change, that we’d be able to make time to see each other almost as often as we did now. It would take more effort, since we’d be separated by more than just a staircase, but my new building wasn’t really that far from where she worked. I’d also been thinking about a little vacation. It had been such a cold winter—maybe she’d like to go sit on a beach somewhere. She’d once told me that was her kind of getaway.
I’ll talk to her about it tonight, I thought as I made dinner for us. If she seemed upset about my leaving, maybe the idea of a little sand and sun together would soften the blow.
My phone vibrated on the kitchen counter, and I saw her name on the screen. “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me.”
“Hi. How’s it going?” I stirred the pot of tomato sauce I had on the stove.
“It’s kinda bad here,” she said quietly, as if she didn’t want anyone to hear. It was Sunday night and we’d been planning on dinner in and watching Netflix, but about an hour earlier, she’d gotten a call from one of her friends that there was some sort of emergency, and she should go to Margot’s house right away.
“What happened? Is everyone OK?”
“Everyone’s fine physically, but Margot and her boyfriend broke up, and she’s a mess.”
“Oh. Sorry to hear that.” I set the spoon on a paper towel and turned the heat off under the pasta water. If she was going to be late, I didn’t want to cook the noodles yet. “Think you’ll be a while?”
She sighed. “Probably. I totally understand if you want to eat without me.”
“I don’t mind waiting. Want to call me when you’re on your way?”
“OK. I will.”
She didn’t sound like herself, but maybe she was just worried about her friend. “Everything OK with you?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just sad for her. And I’m never sure what to say at these times.”
After we hung up, I occupied myself throwing clothing and linens into boxes for the move. I felt like a selfish asshole even thinking it, but I hoped Margot’s breakup wasn’t going to fuck with Jaime’s head.
We were in a good place right now, but we’d only just gotten here.