Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
QUENTIN
“Ethan says he’s settling in well,” Sarah tells me before tossing her phone on the bed beside the massive pile of laundry.
“Are you texting him for updates already?” I tease. “He’s only been gone a week.”
She smirks at me from the other side of the bed. “Actually, he texted me first.”
“Well, I’m glad he’s checking in. He knows his mother too well. Always worrying about everyone.”
She rolls her eyes and throws a sock at me, and I laugh as I catch it. We both know how true my statement is, but that’s just the kind of person she is. She worries so much about everyone else, not out of fear, but out of hoping everyone is as happy and taken care of as possible.
We fall back into silence as we fold and hang up our clean laundry. It’s a comfortable silence, but since we went to the club last night, I can tell Sarah’s mind has been elsewhere. She’s been getting lost in her thoughts all day today, though it’s not hard to determine what—or who—caused that.
Reuniting with Kat last night shook her, though I can’t quite figure out why. It’s clear they used to be incredibly close, but I couldn’t ignore the undercurrent of attraction between them. Sarah had tried to hide it, but by now I know all of the subtle behaviors that give her true feelings away.
What I can’t figure out is what sort of past they have. Kat had said they were “good friends” back in the day, but between their obvious mutual attraction and the way Sarah had tensed up when Kat mentioned having stories about her, I have a suspicion that there was more to it than simple friendship.
Sarah has mentioned to me that she has gotten intimate with women in the past, but we never really talked about it in-depth. It could have been anything from a random make-out with a woman to regular sex, and I never really pushed for details. I’m honestly not even sure if she identifies as bisexual or not.
I’ve been debating all morning whether to talk to her about it or let her work through whatever’s on her mind, but my curiosity nags at me more and more as the minutes pass.
“So, what’s the deal with you and Kat?” I ask casually.
Sarah stops folding the shirt in front of her for a second. “What do you mean?”
“It seemed like seeing her affected you pretty strongly. I was just curious how… close you were in the past.”
She sighs, as if she’s preparing for an admission, and starts to pick out matching socks from the laundry pile. I continue to put shirts on hangers, giving her time to gather her thoughts and not wanting her to feel pressured or on the spot.
“We were a little more than friends,” she admits. She glances up at me, as if looking for some kind of reaction, but I simply nod and stay casual. I’m not sure what sort of reaction she’s expecting from me, but she’s obviously nervous, and I want to give her the space to feel comfortable talking to me about this.
“Want to tell me about it?”
“Well, like you heard last night, Kat and I met in our last year of college. It was just an instant connection, and right away, we were best friends. We’d hang out constantly, do our school work together, go to parties. Then, things went a little further. I knew she was bi, and I was curious, so things slowly got… physical. Everything just kept escalating, and emotions complicated everything.”
“So, what happened?”
“She wanted more, and I couldn’t commit. We never really defined the relationship, but once the semester was close to ending, she asked me to make it official and move to Washington with her after graduation. I was too scared, and I wanted to stay here in Chicago. We had a big fight about it, and once we graduated, we went our separate ways.”
Sarah’s heartbreak is evident in her briefly unguarded expression. They genuinely cared about each other, much more than I had anticipated.
“I’m sorry,” I say, because I’m not sure what else I can say. Losing someone you care about is never easy, and time never fully heals that sort of heartbreak. There’s always a “What if?” that lingers after breakups like those.
Sarah shrugs. “It’s fine. It was a long time ago, and I met you a year later. I can’t bring myself to regret any of it because it led me here.” Her eyes meet mine and she gives me a soft smile, but I can still see the hurt hiding beneath, though I don’t doubt her sincerity.
I smile back at her. “And I’m so glad to call you mine.”
There’s a moment of silence while we finish putting away the last of the laundry, but when we both sit on the bed, I speak again.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Do you still have feelings for her?”
Sarah turns toward me with a furrowed brow and rests her hand on my thigh. “Quentin, I love you . I don’t want anyone else.”
We’ve never involved another person in our relationship, sexual or otherwise, but something about this situation has me wondering whether it might be good for Sarah to talk to Kat about all of this. I also can’t deny that I enjoyed Kat’s company immensely as well.
“I know you love me, and I love you. But you know that’s not what I asked.” I give her a small, encouraging smile, just enough to let her know that it’s okay to admit what she’s feeling. This is uncharted territory for us, and even though I can see right through her, I need her to be honest with me. Half-truths and hidden feelings are worse than the simple truth, no matter how difficult it may be to admit.
“I don’t know what to say…”
“Just be honest with me.” I keep my voice soft and reassuring. This isn’t an accusation, not even remotely. If anything, it’s a relief. I’d seen the way she looked at Kat, the way her body reacted at just the sight of her. A part of me had been bracing for her to outright deny it, and that would’ve worried me more.
“I guess I might still have some unresolved feelings.” Her gaze drops.
I lift her chin with my finger. “Look at me,” I say. “It’s okay . And honestly? I think it might be good for you to work through those feelings.”
Her brow furrows. “Work through them how?”
This isn’t how I had planned this conversation going, but as soon as the thought enters my mind, it feels right. So, I say it. “Talk to her. And if you want to, I’d be okay with you exploring whatever it is you feel for her.”
I watch Sarah carefully as she processes my words. Her fingers tighten against my thigh, her lips parting like she wants to say something but doesn’t quite know what. “You’re saying… you’d be okay with me exploring what I feel for Kat? You’re okay with me wanting—” She cuts herself off, shaking her head. “I don’t even know what I want.”
“That’s the thing,” I say. “You don’t have to know right now. There’s no pressure. But if you do want to figure it out, I’m okay with that.”
Sarah looks at me like she’s waiting for the catch. She’s expecting me to backtrack, to claim that I misspoke, but I don’t. Because, even to my own surprise, I mean every word of it.
“Are you sure?”
Squeezing her hand, I say, “Do you remember what you said at the club, when you challenged me to flirt with Kat before knowing it was her?”
She shakes her head. “You said you felt secure enough in our relationship that me flirting with another woman wouldn’t worry you. And while what we’re discussing might be more than flirting, the same rules apply. I know you’re mine no matter what.”
A trace of a smile pulls at her lips, but it quickly fades. She’s conflicted, and I can’t blame her. This isn’t exactly a typical conversation for a married couple to have. But then again, who am I to say what’s normal? It’s not like people go around broadcasting their relationship dynamics in cases like this.
“I love you,” she says. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I love you too. And you won’t, as long as you’re open and honest with me.”
She stares at me, searching my face for any sign of doubt or resentment. I let her look, because there’s nothing to find. I’m not worried about this. If anything, I feel relieved. Because if she’s been repressing this for years, if a part of her has been aching for something she thought she could never have, I don’t want to be the one keeping her from it.
Finally, she exhales. “I don’t even know what I would say to her.”
I shrug. “Just talk to her, catch up with her. You don’t have to jump into anything heavy at first.”
“I guess that’s true. Okay,” she says with finality, as if her decision has been made. “I’ll text her and see if she’ll get coffee with me.”
“Good.”
She leans forward and kisses me softly, and it feels like gratitude. For the first time today, the tension in her shoulders eases as she lets out a slow breath.
“Thank you,” is all she says, and I can hear all the unspoken words hiding beneath those two.