40. Quinn
Quinn
“Everyone really should have their own cake, don’t you think?” Allegra asks me as we sit at Amelie’s Bakery and Coffee shop going over the catering menu for her renewal.
I came here today telling myself that I wasn’t going to let anything going on in my life pour over into her happy planning.
After all, the only thing more romantic and exciting than a wedding is a renewal.
Especially considering the fact that Allegra and Dustin are one of the reasons I believe in love the way I do.
All that said, I am put together and smiling and leaving no obvious signs that I am kind of in a state of personal disaster right now.
“I think personal cakes would be adorable,” I agree, willing myself to care about the cake flavors on the menu.
“What’s wrong?” she asks and my eyes flash up to hers.
“What do you mean?” I ask, still smiling.
Apparently, there is a crack in my demeanor though because Allegra leans back, her lips tipped downward in the corners and her eyes suddenly less sparkly. Which I hate. It’s her vow renewal. Her eyes should be sparkly, gosh damnit.
“Girl. You’re my best friend. If anyone knows when something is up it’s me. That and your face isn’t very good at hiding your feelings. This should have you giddy and you seem…like you’re–”
Don’t say it. Don’t say it…
“On the verge of tears.”
Fuck.
With that, my eyes grow hot and a moment later, my cheeks are streaked. “I’m sorry,” I blubber. “I was trying not to ruin the day.”
“With what?” she asks, immediately scooting in to take me in her arms. “Honey, what happened? What’s going on?”
“It’s Reid,” I tell her, dabbing my eyes with the corner of a fancy napkin. “Or August or whoever he is.”
“August?” she asks. Then it clicks. A lot faster than it did for me, mind you. “Wait. Is Reid…August Remington? Of August Remington Attorneys? That big ass sunset-blocking black building with the gold letters on it?”
“That’s the one,” I answer.
“Oh you poor thing,” she says, side hugging me awkwardly.
“Well. I don’t actually care about that,” I snivel. “I mean, it’s not like I didn’t know he was a divorce lawyer.”
“Then what is it?” she asks, pulling back.
“We had a fight,” I say.
“Everyone has fights,” Allegra offers a smile. “I’m sure it’ll blow over.”
“Or blow away,” I say.
“That bad?” she grimaces.
I take in a deep breath and let it out shakily. “Basically, I won’t have a plus-one to your renewal,” I say and her eyebrows curve upward sadly.
“Alright, tell me everything,” she says.
And I do. I tell her about the whole conversation, what he thinks I did, what I really did and didn’t do and everything in between. By the end of it I am practically sobbing. And she pulls me back into her.
“Oh wow,” she says. “That is a lot. I’m so sorry,”
“I know,” I nod. “It was terrible, Allegra. As he was questioning me it was like I was one of his court cases. I couldn’t get in a word edgewise. No wonder witnesses hate him so much.”
Allegra pulls back. “Surely you don’t hate him,” she says, offering me her napkin since mine is saturated.
“No,” I sniff angrily. “I don’t. And I hate that I don’t.”
“I feel…” she says on a deep breath. “That this is mostly just a big misunderstanding.”
I snort. “Well. Obviously. I mean, I would never use someone for money. Especially someone I…”
“Was falling in love with?” she asks sweetly and my lips tip into a full, quivering pout.
“Oh, Allegra. What was I thinking?” I ask. “I mean there were so many red flags. He’s August Remington for fuck’s sake.”
“You were thinking that you always see the good in people. That you have chemistry with this man despite how crazy he drives you. And that under all that hard outer layering, he’s actually a lovely man who might be good for you.
Honestly, reg flags, as much as they do exist, aren’t always what people think.
Misunderstandings are a different thing entirely. ”
“Well he’s misunderstanding everything,” I tell her.
“I would never use him with clients as collateral just to prove a point or make a jab at his professional life. I’m passionate about people working out their problems but not to that extent.
” I stop to blow my nose which if I had to guess, based on my Irish complexion is probably as bright as Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer’s right now.
Then I settle my hands in my lap and give into the depression washing over me.
“I just don’t see how after everything we’ve been through in the past couple of weeks that he could think I was trying to screw him over.
How he could think that I am capable of faking all of that. ”
“You know,” Allegra says, switching from her friend voice to her therapist voice. Normally, I’m not a huge fan of that but right now, I actually don’t mind it. “I don’t totally buy that August…Reid…thinks you did all of that.”
“Seriously? Allegra, you didn’t see his face. You didn’t hear his tone. It was like…interrogation. It was awful.”
“Angry and accusatory and unwavering?” she asks.
“Yes. Completely,” I say, wringing the napkin in my hands.
“That’s what I mean. That sounds to me like he is struggling with something deeper.
Like maybe he believed those things in the beginning as his brain connected the dots.
But it’s not so much the possibility of betrayal that had him raging and irrational, but insecurity about how that possibility made him feel. ”
“What do you mean?” I ask through a stuffy nose.
“I think that when he realized that losing you and getting his heart broken would shatter him, it scared him. Whether he fully believes that you betrayed him or not, the idea that he could be broken if those things were true meant that his guard was down. And it freaked him out. And with a man like him, those reactive feelings are going to come out in anger most likely.”
“Oh he was angry…” I agree. “But that’s not the other thing. I talked to my dad about it. So he knows that I was involved with one of his workplace rivals.”
“Oh boy…” she cringes. “How did that go?”
“How do you think it went?” I ask. “And ice the cake with the fact I had to admit to my dad that the man I have been going out with is nearly twice my age…”
Allegra snorts at that then bites the smile back again. “Sorry. But it is kind of funny.”
My lip quivers again and she wraps me into her arms again. “Oh honey. I know it seems like the end of the world. But I really believe it’s not. Love doesn’t always win, but it can.”
“Of course you think that,” I say, pulling back again. “You’re about to renew your vows to the love of your life. Your relationship is perfect.”
She snorts again but makes no attempt to hide it.
“Is that what you think? Girl, Dustin and I have our problems. Like the fact that when we get into arguments, he says I’m not allowed to use my therapist tone.
Like I can just turn it off. Or the fact that he wakes up half as much as I do when Kimbree is fussing.
Or the fact that I accidentally threw away a box of his hockey jerseys last summer. I swear that almost ended us.”
“So he has less sports memorabilia and you guys are sleep deprived,” I wave my hand. “Are those real problems? Problems that can end a relationship?”
“No. But they’re daily problems. And daily problems set the tone for the entire relationship.
You’re right. It’s not about who wakes up more or how many games Dustin has to go get those jerseys back, which in my opinion is a win for him.
It’s about how we handle the imperfection on a day-to-day basis. ”
“So you’re saying that even your marriage isn’t good all the time?” I ask and she laughs.
“Of course not. No relationship is. They’re work, all of them. But they’re worth it if you are both willing. Just like every couple that comes through your doors at We Still Do.”
She’s right. And I hate that she’s right. Mostly because it points out something I haven’t been willing to admit for, well, maybe forever. That I believe in happily ever after so much, I refuse to admit that there are ever gray skies.
I turn the conversation back to mini cakes and champagne flavors and center pieces. Today should be about her, not me and my problems. But also, my problems are exhausting. And right now I don’t want to think about what all of this means for me.
If I have been walking through life with rose colored glasses, have I ever seen love for what it is? Marriage for what it is? Do I even know what true love is at all? And more than that, is forever even real?
I leave the bakery feeling distraught. And I hate that. I shouldn’t have to fake happiness during an event like this. Especially when it’s for Allegra and I actually couldn’t be happier for her.
For some reason, I just don’t feel like going home.
So I don’t. I go to the office. We are closed but that’s kind of the point.
As I walk inside, I lock the door behind me.
I go through the rituals, lavender oil in the infuser and dim lighting.
I don’t feel like wine, even though that’s normally my go to.
Instead, I make myself a cup of chamomile tea.
Then I sit in my yellow chair that faces the couch where more couples have sat than I can count, all looking for hope.
I gave them hope.
Somehow, whether it was my ambition or my stats or the infuser or the inspirational quotes on the wall, I was able to give them hope. And yet, I’m sitting here now feeling…a whole lot of…nothing. Uncertainty.
It isn’t until a knock comes to the door causing me to blink that I realize my eyes are teary. Again. Of course they are.
“We’re closed,” I call out, blinking again just for good measure and taking a sip of my tea.
“Quinn? It’s the Overholts,” a woman’s voice calls back and I stand up.
“Ashley. Michael…” I say as I open the door. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
“We were about to ask you the same thing,” Ashley says and something about their faces tells me they know something. Obviously, I let them in.
“Sit, please,” I say, gesturing to the aforementioned couch. And I sit in the yellow chair. “What’s going on?” I ask softly.
Both of them are smiling but it’s an odd smile. An empathetic one that borders sympathetic, which I don’t love.
“So we might have heard through the grapevine that you have been having some…financial strains lately.”
I nearly choke on my tea. So much for its calming properties. “What grapevine?” I cough. “Where did you hear that?”
“Well, as you know we see Allegra…” Michael says and I nod. Of course. If the funding is cut, they would have to pay for their sessions in the near future, something I am sure Allegra’s accountant has been transparent about.
“It’s alright, of course,” Ashley says. “We are more than capable of paying for the sessions from here on out.”
“That’s good,” I nod. “And I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Ashley insists. “We understand how hard nonprofits can be. And for that reason…” she stops, smiling between Michael and I. “We would like to donate money to We Still Do.”
“Really?” I ask. “That’s so sweet.”
“Just let us know how much you need to keep your doors open,” Michael says and of course, the blasted tears are back.
“Well…that’s going to be a bit of a problem,” I choke, doing my best not to cry. Again. “Because all of our current donors have pulled out. Honestly, I have no idea what we are going to do.”
“Like I said,” Michael says. “What do you need? I’m sure we can swing it.”
I’m sure we can swing it.
He says it like it’s a small favor. Like he’s going to whip out his wallet and write me a check for a couple thousand dollars and save the day. Oh, if only.
“Don’t be shy,” Ashley smiles. “Like Michael said, we got you. We want to do this because of what you’ve done for us,”
“I understand but…”
“No buts. Drop the number,” Michael says.
And so…I do.
I tell them exactly the amount we need to keep our doors open for the time being.
And when I say the time being, I mean the next three months.
Because no way in heck am I expecting them to go behind that.
Of course, at that point I am going to need more.
Again. But they’re not billionaires. I don’t think.
“Is that all?” Michael asks and I am not kidding when I say that this man didn’t so much as flinch at the number.
“I mean…it’s…are you sure?” I stumble over my words.
Ashley smiles. “Quinn. We have money. I hate to say it, but money has never really been a problem for us.”
“She’s right,” Michael agrees. “And that’s become even more true as of late because we actually decided to sell the vacation home.”
“Wait,” I shake my head. “The vacation home. The one that was kind of the whole reason you decided to do therapy in the first place?” I ask, and they both nod with smiles.
“Wild, right?” Ashley asks. “We just figured it was a kind of catalyst for all of this. So we thought, why not see if there are buyers out there that will take it as is and, sure enough, someone saw it as a major investment.”
“As they should,” Michael adds.
“And we want to donate the entire equity to We Still Do.”
And sure enough, the waterworks are back. “I don’t know what to say,” I tell them.
“Then say yes,” Michael says.
“Because we won’t take no for an answer,” Ashley adds.
And while this is only a temporary band-aid for the problem at hand, it’s a comfy band-aid, nonetheless. It also provides momentary hope. Hope that despite everything else going on, good can come from a shitty situation. Even if it doesn’t solve all the problems.