Chapter 13 #2
“Hear, hear,” Hayden said.
They clinked bottles.
I drained mine and seriously considered whether Argentina had good medical schools. “Okay,” I said finally. “Let’s say... hypothetically, I tell Julien the truth. What do I say?”
“Start with ‘I’m sorry,’” Gabriel suggested.
“Then add ‘Please don’t kill me,’” Nathan said.
“Then run,” Fitz added. “Very fast.”
“You’re all terrible at this.”
“We’re great at this,” Fitz protested. “We’re providing moral support!”
“You’re providing anxiety.”
“Same thing.”
Hayden leaned back, grinning. “You know what the real problem is?”
“That I slept with my best friend’s sister?”
“No. The real problem is that you’re going to have to do this sober.”
I stared at him.
“He’s right,” Nathan said slowly. “If you’re drunk, you can blame it on the alcohol. But if you’re sober, you have to own it.”
“I hate that that makes sense.”
“It’s terrible advice,” Gabriel said. “Don’t get drunk before confessing to Julien.”
“Why not?” Fitz asked. “Liquid courage is a time-honored tradition.”
“Because Julien will know he’s drunk, and it’ll make everything worse.”
“Fair point.”
I slumped back, letting my head rest against the worn cushion of the chair, and squinted up at the ceiling stains like they might offer some divine guidance.
The hum of the refrigerator filled the silence—an oddly comforting reminder that at least something in this apartment was still functioning.
My hand wrapped around the sweating neck of a beer bottle, knuckles white, as if holding onto it might stop the world from spinning out of control.
This was my life now. Midnight in my apartment, surrounded by four idiots who genuinely believed that “just tell him the truth” was sage wisdom, and me, contemplating my own mortality because I had made the spectacularly idiotic decision to sleep with Vivian Darcy.
At least the beer was cold, even if my prospects weren’t.
And the worst part? There was a dull ache in my chest—equal parts panic and guilt—but somehow, it didn’t outweigh the reckless thrill still buzzing in my veins that I would do it again.
In a heartbeat.
Because apparently, even self-preservation took a backseat to bad decisions and a beautiful woman.
“Quinton?” Gabriel’s voice cut through my spiral.
“Yeah?”
“You okay?”
I looked at him. At all of them. Four of my closest friends, sitting in my apartment, drinking my beer, giving me terrible advice, and genuinely trying to help despite the fact that I had created this mess entirely on my own. “No,” I said honestly. “I’m completely screwed.”
“Yeah,” Fitz said, grinning. “But at least you’re screwed with style.”
Nathan raised his beer. “To Quinton’s inevitable demise: may it be swift, painless, and extremely entertaining for the rest of us.”
“Hear, hear,” Hayden said.
They clinked bottles again.
I grabbed another beer from the six-pack and joined them.
If I was going to die, I might as well die drunk.
“Okay,” I said. “New plan. I tell Julien the truth. Tomorrow. In his office. Sober.”
“Terrible plan,” Fitz said.
“Absolutely terrible,” Nathan agreed.
“You’re going to die,” Hayden added.
“Probably,” Gabriel said. “But it’s the right thing to do.”
I took a long drink. “If I don’t survive this, I want you all to know that I blame Fitz.”
“Fair,” Fitz said cheerfully.
“And I want my ashes scattered somewhere dramatic. Like the Grand Canyon. Or Julien’s front lawn.”
“Also fair.”
“And I want—”
My phone buzzed.
I looked down.
Vivian: You awake? We need to talk.
My heart did something stupid and complicated in my chest as four sets of eyes locked onto me.
“Is that her?” Nathan asked.
“Maybe.”
“It’s definitely her,” Fitz said. “Look at his face. He’s got that ‘I’m texting the woman I’m in love with’ expression.”
“I’m not in love.”
“You’re absolutely in love.”
“I’m—”
My phone buzzed again.
Vivian: Also heard Nathan cornered you in a supply closet. Does Fitz know?
I stared at the screen. Then at my friends. Then back at the screen. “I’m going to kill all of you,” I said.
“Get in line,” Fitz said cheerfully. “Julien’s got first dibs.”
I typed back.
Me: Kind of busy... planning my funeral.
Vivian: ARE THEY THERE???
Me: Yes
Vivian: Oh God!
I looked up.
Four identical grins stared back at me.
“Don’t you dare,” I warned.
“Invite her over!” Fitz said.
“Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re all here.”
“We’ll leave!”
“You will?”
“No,” Nathan said. “But we’ll pretend to.”
I groaned and typed back.
Me: The four idiots are trying to keep me alive.
Vivian: Tell them I said hi.
Me: I’ll tell them you said to leave.
Vivian: That works too. Good luck with the funeral planning.
Me: Thanks. I’ll need it.
I set my phone down and looked at my friends.
“She says hi.”
“Aww,” Fitz cooed. “She’s checking on you. That’s adorable.”
“It’s not adorable. It’s a normal human concern.”
“It’s adorable,” Gabriel said. “And it means she cares.”
“Of course she cares. We’re friends.”
“You’re not friends,” Nathan said. “You’re in love.”
“I’m not—”
“Quinton,” Hayden interrupted, his expression surprisingly serious. “Let me give you some advice. From someone who’s older and arguably wiser.”
“You’re forty-eight.”
“Exactly. I’ve seen things. I’ve learned things.
And one thing I’ve learned is this: when you find someone who makes you happy.
Genuinely, stupidly, irrationally happy, you don’t let them go.
Even if it’s complicated. Even if it’s scary.
Even if your best friend might remove your spleen with a scalpel. ”
I stared at him.
“That’s actually good advice,” I said.
“I know. I’m full of surprises.”
Fitz tipped his beer with a flourish, eyebrows arched, eyes sparkling mischief.
He winked at me, the overhead lights catching the glint in his gaze.
“To Quinton and Vivian—may their love burn brighter than Nathan’s sarcasm, their chemistry sizzle louder than Hayden’s questionable jokes, and may Julien’s meltdown tomorrow be nothing short of legendary. ”
Nathan rolled his eyes, lips twitching, tapping his bottle against the table with a dull thunk. He deadpanned, “Hear, hear—but only because I’m dying to see the look on Julien’s face. And maybe witness a spleen removal.”
Gabriel smiled. “To doing the right thing, even when it’s terrifying.”
They clinked bottles.
I joined them, feeling something shift in my chest.
Maybe I was screwed. Maybe Julien was going to kill me. Maybe this whole thing was going to blow up in my face in the most spectacular way possible. But Hayden was right. Vivian made me happy. Stupidly, irrationally, terrifyingly happy. And that was worth fighting for.
Even if it meant facing Julien’s wrath. Even if it meant risking everything. Even if it meant... “Okay,” I said. “Tomorrow. I’m telling Julien tomorrow.”
“Brave man,” Fitz said.
“Stupid man,” Nathan corrected.
“Same thing,” Hayden said.
Gabriel raised his beer one more time. “To tomorrow: may Quinton survive it.”
“Hear, hear.”
We drank. And I tried very, very hard not to think about the fact that in less than twelve hours, I was going to walk into Julien’s office and confess that I’d slept with his sister.
This was either going to be the bravest thing I had ever done.
Or the last.
Probably both.