Happiness is always a for-now thing, I heard myself telling Quinn the night I laid out the rules for him.
But don’t you think it’s possible to know that something or someone would always make you happy? he’d asked.
Lately the question had begun to haunt me.
“That’s bullshit.” Claire sat up taller. “So he just wants you to wait around until he decides he’s ready for things to change?”
“Basically.” Margot shrugged, her eyes filling. “But there’s no guarantee he’ll ever want things to change. He refused to make any promises.”
So what? I thought. Promises, like rules, could be broken. But I said nothing.
“God, I want to punch his smug chin right now,” Claire said. “I’m sorry, but I hate his chin. The way he points it at people.”
“It’s OK, I hate it right now too.” Margot drank a little more. “And the sex lately has been bad, you guys.”
“Really?” I blinked at her.
She nodded. “I don’t know why, exactly. It seemed perfectly fine for three years and then it just got—I don’t know. Routine. Too fast.”
“But doesn’t that always happen over time?” I asked. “I mean, you can’t expect that initial spark to last for years, can you?” Although, to be honest, I couldn’t imagine the spark between Quinn and me dying out. What the hell?
“Sure, you can,” Claire argued. “I’ve seen plenty of couples who have great sexual chemistry and have been together for years. Look at my parents! It’s embarrassing how much they touch each other all the time!”
“And it’s not like I expect fireworks every time,” Margot said. “I’d settle for an orgasm once a month, even.”
I gaped at her. “Once a month? Remind me why you want to marry this guy.”
“Because we’re right for each other! And I don’t understand what went wrong,” she said, setting her glass down and dropping her head into her hands. “A few months ago everything was fine and we wanted the same things. Then suddenly he’s changed his mind and we’re going nowhere.”
“Does he want to break up?” Claire asked.
“No, but I do. I told him I’m not going to wait around in a relationship that’s a dead end, and he said I was being childish and unreasonable.” She wiped her nose on the back of her hand before reaching for another tissue.
“Asshole,” I hissed. “What did you say to that?”
“I said ‘Go fuck yourself.’”
That made me grin a mile wide.
“But am I making a mistake?” Margot asked desperately. “I mean, I don’t need a ring tomorrow, but I at least liked knowing we were building toward something. It made me feel happy and secure in the future. Now everything’s just fucked!” She started weeping again.
I scooted closer and rubbed her back. “You did the right thing, Margot. A woman like you does not need to wait around for any man, least of all a dipshit like Tripp.”
“I just kept thinking, if I don’t do it now, he’s just going to dump me later, once he’s tired of me,” she sobbed. “And I couldn’t bear the thought that he’d be the one to call it off, and I’d look like the biggest fool on the planet, waiting around all these years for a proposal that never came.”
“No one would ever say that,” Claire said loyally.
“Yes, they would,” Margot insisted. “You don’t know how people talk in those circles. They’re so nice to your face and so vicious behind your back. I bet they’re already talking about me.”
“Listen, posh people don’t have a monopoly on shitty gossip,” I told her. “They just do it more quietly in more expensive rooms. And everything is not fucked! The way I see it, your future is wide open now.”
“I agree,” said Claire. “And if love and marriage is what you want, you’ll find it. I know you will.”
“Or fuck love and marriage!” I said. “Get out there and do things you’ve always wanted to do! Take a trip, get a new job, change things up! Maybe this is a wake-up call.”
She sniffed, looking at me with puffy eyes. “Maybe. Fucking hurts, though.”
My heart squeezed as she dissolved into tears again. “I know. I’m sorry.”
I called Quinn on the way home, who said he’d waited for me, and dinner would be ready when I got there. I apologized for being late, but he said apologies weren’t necessary, a friend in need was more important than spaghetti, and besides, this gave him something to punish me for later.
God, he was so fucking perfect.
It was terrifying…what was I doing?
Seeing Margot come apart at the seams like that was making me wonder if I had any fucking clue. The last two weeks had been so intense—I hardly recognized myself. I wanted to be with Quinn almost all the time. I thought about him constantly. A few times, I even caught myself about to say I love you, before memory and common sense kicked in and reminded me what happened the last time I did that.
This was fucked up.
I didn’t believe in love like that, did I? But then what was that feeling that stopped my heart and stole my breath, made me break all my rules and drop my defenses? That made me want to share things with him I’d never even thought about sharing with anyone else? What was that longing for him when we were apart? What was that flutter in my stomach when I saw him again? What was that tingle in my skin, that rush to the head, that certainty in my bones that when I was with him, nothing else mattered?