THIRTY-TWO Sebastian
“How are you functioning right now?” Cooper walks into the kitchen and yawns. “The three of us were up way too late last night.”
“Weather never stops. It also doesn’t care about my hangover.” I glance up from my laptop screen. “Remind me to never let Nate suggest tequila shots again. His ass is still passed out on the couch while I’m fighting for my life.”
“And this is why I always volunteer to be the designated driver. I feel great.”
“Coffee just finished brewing, but you’re so perky, I don’t think you need it.”
“Let me top you off.”
“Just inject it into my veins at this point.” I close my computer and groan. “Are you on the early shift today?”
“Nah. I don’t go in until the afternoon.” He brings the pot over and fills my empty mug. “I’ll probably take a nap after breakfast.”
“What a life. What are you doing until then? We could play some beach volleyball.”
“You two are annoying as hell.” Nate scowls at us from the entrance to the living room. “It’s six in the morning. Being this loud should be illegal.”
“Morning, sunshine.” I grin and pat the seat next to me at the table. “Join us.”
He flips me off and opens the brown paper bag sitting on the counter. “I’m vetoing beach volleyball. If I go out in the sun, I might hurl.”
“You’d think you’d know your alcohol tolerance at thirty-one, but I guess not. You two should be ashamed.” Cooper shakes his head, disappointed. “You did this to yourselves.”
“And now I’m paying the price.” Nate pulls out a croissant and shoves half of it in his mouth. “Morning shift at the station?”
“Nope. Afternoon. I’m going to swing by Mia’s place on the way. She asked to borrow some of my tools so she can hang up a painting,” Cooper says.
“Coop.”
He looks at me, his mug halfway to his mouth. “Yes?”
“You’re a nice guy.”
“Feels like I’m interrupting something,” Nate mumbles, and I hold up my hand.
“We’re best friends, and we’ve always been honest with each other.”
“Yes. Except for the time I stole NBA2K from you and erased all your high scores. It took me months to tell you.”
“I’m still a little bitter about that, I’m not going to lie.” I drag my gaze to him. “You’d tell me if you had feelings for my sister, right?”
“What?”
Nate whistles. “Think I need some popcorn for this.”
“Your sister is engaged, Seb. To someone else,” Cooper says.
“Doesn’t mean you can’t have feelings for her,” I point out.
“We’re friends.” His mouth twists when he says it. “That’s all.”
“Okay.” I nod and take a sip of coffee. “You could tell me if it was something more.”
“Yeah? The way you told us you and Quincy were hooking up?”
I freeze. Nate whistles again. “How did you know that we—”
“Come on, Seb. Best friends, remember?” He laughs and sits at the table. Nate reluctantly joins us. “Anyone looking at you could see you’re in love with her.”
I pull on my collar. “That’s a big word to toss around.”
“Is it? Or are you afraid to admit it because you know it’s true, and it’s scary as hell?”
“Okay. Let’s—” I rub a hand over my chest. It feels like the walls are caving in around me. I down the rest of my coffee, glad when it burns my tongue. “Everyone needs to calm down.”
“I’m calm,” Nate deadpans. “And Coop is right.”
“He can’t be right.” I jump to my feet and do a lap around the kitchen. “I can’t love Quincy. I took her on our first date three days ago. I just told her that I liked her, and now … that’s moving too fast.”
“Dude. Come on.” Coop chuckles. “You’ve had a crush on her for years. Those fights you used to pick with her were pathetic attempts at flirting. You broke into her house when you—”
“I used a key.”
“When you thought she was hurt. What am I missing, Nate?”
“Hm?” He looks up from his croissant. “Fuck if I know.”
“See? There’s—”
“You look at her even when she’s not talking, you let her take the credit for discovering that Georgianna was turning even though you noticed it too, you grin like an idiot when she sends you a text, and you carry ketchup packets with you,” Nate rattles off, and I swallow.
“Okay, fine, yes, we’re hooking up. And yes, I like spending time with her. Who wouldn’t? And yes, it’s the best sex of my life. But how the fuck can I be sure that’s love?” I ask.
“It’s pretty easy to figure out.” Cooper leans back in his chair with a grin. “You think about her a lot, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” I bob my head and grip the counter. I think I’m going to be sick. “There was a moment during Hurricane Georgianna when we got separated, and I—” My voice cracks. “I thought that was it for me, man. I didn’t want to exist in a world that didn’t include her.”
“You look for her whenever you walk into a room,” Cooper adds. “Don’t you?”
“I do. I’ve had hundreds of women try to get my attention, but I’ve never been interested. With her …” A shaky exhale. Realization with every second that passes. “She’s the sun and I’m the moon, just happy to be in her orbit.”
“When do you leave?” Nate asks.
“Soon.” It’s not enough time. There’s so many things I haven’t had the chance to do. “In three days.”
“You gotta tell her, dude,” Cooper says.
“What if she … How do I know she feels the same way?”
“You don’t. Having hope is the hardest part, but if you don’t have that, then what’s the point?”
If she loved me, I’d show her off. I’d walk around town holding her hand. I’d be the happiest guy in the fucking world.
“I need to tell her.” I run a hand through my hair. “Fuck. She needs to know.”
“Hell yeah she does,” Nate says with more enthusiasm than I’ve ever heard from him.
“Go get her, Sebby. And hey.” Cooper lifts his mug my way. “She’s going to tell you she loves you too.”
That propels me forward. I sprint through the house, changing out of my pajamas for real clothes. I fix my hair and wonder if I should bring her more flowers. I decide against it when Nate tells me to hurry my ass up, and hustle for my car.
Outside, I fumble with my phone. I know Quincy is awake. She sent me a text around five this morning, and I hit her name, pressing my phone to my ear.
“Good morning, Dunn,” she answers on the third ring.
“Good morning, Quinny baby. Are you busy right now?”
“Totally booked, actually.” She laughs. “Kidding. I’m free. What’s up?”
“I’m coming over.”
“Is this about the latest Tropical Storm Harry advisory? I saw it, too, and I think it’ll—”
“No. Not weather related. I just want to see you.”
“Oh.” I can hear her smile through the phone. I bet she’s sitting in her office. Spinning around in her chair and looking up at the ceiling. “That sounds good to me. See you soon.”
I jog up the stairs to Quincy’s porch, letting myself in without knocking. She meets me in the foyer, nearly running into my chest when I stumble inside, breathless.
“My favorite meteorologist.” I cup her cheeks and kiss her. “Did you sleep well?”
“Not as good as when you’re with me, but I can’t complain.” Quincy wraps her arms around my waist. “How was your night with the guys?”
“Minus the tequila shots Nate made us take? Great.”
“Stop.” She laughs. “You poor thing.”
“I’m fighting for my life, but I wanted to see you. Am I interrupting?”
“Nope.” She gives my hand a tug and leads me to her office. “I’m just starting the day.”
I sit on the couch, propping my elbow on a pillow. “What’s on your agenda today?”
“There’s the show at nine—you’re welcome to join that, by the way—then Mia, Harlow, and I were going to get lunch. That leaves me two hours to hear about what’s got you so excited.”
“Two hours is a long time.” I pat the cushion, and she plops down next to me. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“You sound so serious.” Quincy reaches out and touches my dimple with her thumb. “What’s on your mind, Sebastian Dunn?”
“So many things. I—”
Her phone buzzes on her desk and cuts me off. I reach for it, swiping it off the tabletop and handing it her way.
“Who is it?” she asks.
“No clue. It says Melbourne, Florida.”
“Melbourne? I don’t—” Quincy’s mouth drops open. “Oh my god. Sebastian. The National Weather Service.”
“Answer it,” I urge her.
“Are you sure? What if—”
“Quincy. Answer the phone.”
She accepts the call, bringing the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
I can’t hear the other end of the conversation, and her body language doesn’t give anything away. Her expression is stoic. There’s not even a hint of a smile, and I put my hand on her knee.
“Right.” She nods. I’m on the edge of my seat, waiting for her to tell me what’s going on. “Thank you so much.”
She finally hangs up. Puts her phone face down and turns to look at me.
“Quin?”
“I got the job,” she whispers. “I got the job,” she repeats, louder this time.
“Sweetheart.” I stand and sweep her off her feet, spinning her around. She’s loose-limbed in my arms, a laugh bubbling out of her. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I’m so proud of me too.” Quincy wipes her eyes then gasps. She wiggles out of my arms, a hand over her mouth. “Oh, no.”
“What’s wrong?”
“If I got the job, that means you didn’t. I’m so sorry. That was selfish of me to—”
“Don’t you dare apologize for your success, Quincy. You earned this. You deserve this. Don’t worry about my feelings. Not when yours are just as valid.”
“But I know you’re not happy and I am. I could talk about weather on my show for the rest of my life and be content, but you …” She snaps her mouth shut, but I know what she’s not saying.
But I’m miserable.
Dreading every day that I have to go into work, and, yeah, I’m so fucking excited for her, but there’s a part that stings with the news too. The recognition that this is it for me, a job that now belongs to someone else while I still don’t know what I want to do.
Jealousy—the tiniest flicker of jealousy—flares to life in my chest, but that’s not fair.
She earned that spot fair and square. She’s made a name for herself, deserving of every accolade. What she does is important, necessary, and I can’t be mad at her for getting exactly what she’s wanted.
“I’m going to be fine.” I kiss her forehead. Maybe if I say it a few more times, I’ll believe it. “I have a pretty face, remember? The possibilities are endless.”
“We don’t have to talk about this.” Quincy turns her phone over and puts a hand on the back of my neck. “I can celebrate with Mia and Harlow at lunch, and we can pretend like—”
“I want to hear all about it.” I smile down at her. “Start talking, Monroe. And don’t leave anything out.”
“They want me to start in two weeks, pending any other tropical activity. They apologized for taking so long to reach out. Dealing with the aftermath of Georgianna took them longer than they would’ve liked.
They told me I could still do my show, and the possibility of a hybrid position is something they’d consider in the future. ”
“Look at you go. Fuck. I’m so proud of you.”
“You’re just as deserving, Sebastian. They said it was close between me and another candidate, and I don’t doubt that was you.”
“Another tally in your win column, Pres,” I murmur.
“I don’t want it to be a win or a loss.”
“Fine, but we need to celebrate.”
“How are we going to do that?”
“I have an idea, and the morning is still—” It’s my turn for my phone to buzz in my pocket. “I bet this is Melbourne calling to tell me thanks, but no thanks.”
“Answer it. What if they’re offering you a different position? They said they’re understaffed. Something else might’ve opened up.”
I never considered that. The possibility makes me scramble, but when I see the caller ID, it’s Johnathan’s name on the screen, and I groan.
“I need to take this,” I say, sliding my thumb across the screen. “Hello?”
“Hey, Seb. How’re you doing?”
“I’m good, man. What’s up?”
“I hate to bother you so early.”
“No worries. Did you have a question about the Georgianna footage I sent to you yesterday? I have plenty more.”
“No, that all looks great. It’s Gary, your fill-in.” Johnathan pauses. “He resigned this morning for personal reasons, and the execs need you back in the studio tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” My heart drops to my feet. “That’s three days early.”
“I know. The good news is they want to set up a conversation to discuss linking your docuseries to the nightly news. They proposed the idea of a weekly episode with a question and answer session afterward.”
“What happens if I don’t come back?”
“Are there not any flights? I could probably get them to give the okay for the day after tomorrow and—”
“I meant at all.”
There’s another long pause, and Johnathan clears his throat. “You’d be in breach of your contract and forfeit all your earnings for the year.”
Well, fuck me.
I have other income, but that is a lot of fucking money I’d lose.
“Yeah, of course. Makes sense,” I say weakly. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
He throws out a couple buzzwords he thinks I want to hear: Everyone is amped up for your return. Social media has a countdown clock going, and viewers are ready. People are asking what song you’re going to do first when you’re back on the air.
I know he’s trying to make me feel important, but my answers are noncommittal. A hum and a grunt, and when I hang up with him, my shoulders are heavy.
“Tomorrow?” Quincy asks, and I nod.
“If I don’t, I’ll be in breach of my contract. I won’t collect any more earnings for the year, and I’m sure I’ll be blacklisted from every media outlet across the country.” My laugh is jilted. “It would be nice to know why I’m so unhappy in a job thousands of people want.”
“Because you have a big heart, and you’re meant for something so much more. And you’ll find it. It might take some time, but it’s out there, Sebastian, and it’s going to be worth the wait when it happens.”
“Yeah.” I nod, wishing I hadn’t put so much stock in the NWS job. I should’ve looked at other positions. Done some research on what else is out there, because now I’m stuck down a one-way road, and I don’t like the direction I’m heading. “Probably.”
“Hey.” She nudges me with her elbow. “Are you going to tell me why you wanted to come over this morning?”
“Oh.” I rub the back of my neck. Blurting out that I love her when both of our lives are about to change feels selfish, so I shrug. I plaster on a smile and gesture at her computer screen. “Wanted to see if I could hop on the show with you today.”
“You know you have an open invitation. My viewers like you more than they like me.”
“That’s not true.”
“It’s so true, and I’m okay with it.” Quincy laughs. “Gosh. I’m going to miss you when you leave.”
I love her so much. I love her laugh and the way her nose scrunches.
I love how she shrieks when I toss her over my shoulder and head for her bedroom.
I love her so much that the idea of not getting to see her every day of my life fucking hurts.
But could she love me back from fifteen hundred miles away?
“I’m going to miss you too. We’re going to figure it out,” I say, but I wonder if it’s more to convince myself than it is to convince her.