“Another lie,” said Margot.
“Yep,” said Claire.
“It’s not! He didn’t say anything, and when I told him he had to say something, he said, ‘OK, if that’s what you want.’” I left out the part where he said it wasn’t what he wanted. Didn’t really fit into the Poor Me picture I was painting.
Margot sat back, arms crossed. “I don’t buy it.”
Claire shook her head. “Me either.”
“Look, you guys can gang up on me all you want, but that doesn’t change the fact that Quinn moved out without saying anything to me the very next day. I’m telling you, he didn’t care. Now can we please talk about something else? I’m trying to forget the whole thing.”
Their faces softened.
“Sorry, Jaims. We’re not trying to gang up on you.” Margot put her hand on my arm. “We just don’t want to see you hurt.”
“I’m looking out for myself so I don’t get hurt, OK?” I said, trying to force the lump in my throat to go away. “You of all people should understand me right now.”
She didn’t say anything, but she nodded and patted my arm. “OK. Let’s talk about something else.”
“How are you doing, Margot?” Claire asked her.
She took a breath. “Better. Not great, but better. Thinking things through. Talking to my therapist. I think you might have been right about a change, Jaime.”
I smiled, glad to hear I was right about something.
Maybe I wouldn’t cry myself to sleep tonight.
Alex’s birthday was toward the end of March, and Nolan was throwing him a party at their house. I had to show my face, but I was terrified of running into Quinn. We hadn’t seen or spoken to each other in three weeks, and I was finally able to go a day without crying or eating a king-sized Hershey bar, but I wasn’t anywhere near over him. Would seeing him again fuck me up completely? Would I fall apart?
No. Don’t let it. Be strong.
Figuring strength would come easier if I felt good about my appearance, I got my eyebrows waxed and my hair blown out. I wore what I considered my best armor, a sexy little black dress that showed off my curves and the leopard heels. I gave myself a Sophia Loren eye and a classic red lip. When I saw the necklace he’d given me in my jewelry drawer, my stomach twisted. I loved it so much, but I hadn’t been able to bring myself to wear it since Quinn moved out. The reminder of that amazing night was too painful, so I left it in the drawer and chose a gold tassel pendant instead.
At the party, I had a cocktail to calm my nerves, and then another one after that because Quinn hadn’t arrived yet but I knew he had to be coming. By the bottom of the second drink, I still hadn’t seen him, so I approached Nolan. “Hey, was Quinn invited?”
“Yes,” he said, opening a bottle of red. “But he said he was going to be a little late.”
“Oh,” I said, hoping I sounded as if I didn’t care. “Just wondering. Hey, can you pour me a glass of that?”
Twenty minutes later, I was sipping wine in one corner of the living room, watching the doorway like a bird of prey, when he walked in.
My heart stopped.
The room spun.
I’d forgotten how beautiful he was.
As if he had radar where I was concerned, his eyes found me immediately. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. I wanted to breathe, but I couldn’t. I wanted to run over to him and wrap my legs around his waist, but I couldn’t. The room seemed to go silent, the air full of something so thick it stifled the sound. My mouth was dry. I lifted my glass to my lips and drank, barely tasting the wine.
God, what had I done? Why had I walked away from him? What the hell was wrong with me? Physical need for him took over my senses.
I have to get him back in my bed, in my arms, in my body.
But how could I do it? Was he still mad? Would he even come over to say hi?
I decided to try a little smile.
He nodded without smiling back, and went into the kitchen.
Fuck! Why had I smiled at him? Now I seemed weak and pathetic, and I didn’t want to come from that position. I needed to find a conversation to get in on before he came back in here and saw me standing alone. Searching the room, I saw Alex talking to some of his friends from work, and made my way over to them. I positioned myself so I’d see if Quinn came into he living room, but he never did.
Goddamn him! Was he made of steel or something? How could he ignore me like this?
Because he doesn’t care.
I bit my lip. Was that true? Had he gotten over me already? I couldn’t bear the thought. I downed the last of my wine and went for more, stumbling a little on my way out of the room.
From the kitchen, I could see into the family room, where Quinn was talking to Nolan and a woman I didn’t recognize. Jealousy made my nostrils flare. I poured another glass of pinot noir, spilling some on the counter.
When I looked up again, I caught him staring at me.
You do care, Quinn. I feel it. And I want you—I need to feel your hands on me, hear you whisper dirty words, watch your face as you come.
Suddenly I had an idea—the perfect plan for seduction.
It was risky, but if it worked it would be kind of funny, and Quinn loved a good joke. Plus sales pitches were my thing, right? I was a little drunk, but I thought I knew what Quinn wanted to hear—the three little words that would lure him into my bed.
It would totally go my way this time.
Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I headed in his direction.