7. Graham
CHAPTER SEVEN
graham
I’ve always loved numbers. Go figure, I’d become an accountant.
As a kid, probabilities fascinated me.
My chance of being attacked by a bear is 1:1.2 million.
A 1:15,300 chance that I’ll be struck by lightning.
I’m wishing the odds of either of these happening were much higher right now so I wouldn’t have to stand here after I shouted at Quinn . The humility of the whole encounter makes my skin crawl and I wonder if I walked out of here, moved towns—no, countries—and changed my identity, would I ever stop feeling this embarrassed?
I think I’ve broken her. That’s bound to happen when a man you hardly know randomly asks you to be his girlfriend.
There was a script to follow; Booth helped me plan it. Tell her about my predicament with the wedding, ask her to go on a few platonic dates, and offer to balance her books free of charge and put in a good word with the new owner. Easy .
False . Because I’m hard-wired to say the wrong thing.
“ Quinn ?” I take a cautious step toward her .
She blinks a few times, eyes focused on the middle of my chest, before doubling over and releasing an almighty belly laugh. Tears stream down her face. When she finally straightens with a deep inhale to catch her breath, I fight the urge to hightail it out of here. Clearly the idea of going out with me is hilarious.
“ I’m sorry.” She wipes underneath her eyes. “ I do this thing where I zone out sometimes and don’t catch what a person says. I could have sworn you asked me to be your girlfriend.”
Clearing my throat and trying not to let the resignation show, I undo my suit jacket, only to button it up again. “ I did.”
“ Excuse me?”
“ I said, I did. It wasn’t supposed to come out like that. Fuck , I’m not good at…talking. It’s good to know the idea of being with me is so ridiculous, though.” I sound harsh and bitter, I know it, but this is a catastrophe.
Her face falls. “ Oh my god, no. No ! That’s not what had me laughing. Okay , it was, but not the idea of it. You just kind of word vomited it and then I thought I misunderstood. The idea of being your girlfriend…well, I don’t know what it would be like. I’m confused.”
My head falls back, and I try to remember the odds of a meteor striking me.
“ Can we sit down and do this, please?” I beg, eyes glued to the ceiling.
Her small hand closes around my wrist and pulls me toward the front of the bakery.
“ Okay .” Her voice is serious as she pushes me to sit at the same table we sat at the other day. “ What is going on?”
She leans forward, arms stacked on top of each other, pushing her full tits up. I could really do without the distraction, especially as she sits there in a floral dress. It’s fucking October , and yes, it’s abnormally warm today, but I thought the season where Quinn tortures me in pretty dresses was over. It’s one of the many reasons I found it so hard to avoid her over the summer. Today , she’s in a pale lavender slip of a dress that falls to mid-thigh, and fucking fuck, those thighs.
Shaking away the thoughts of her killer curves, I cut to the chase. “ Firstly , I want to say, I don’t go around asking just anyone this, and I don’t need an answer now. You can even pretend this conversation never happened when I’m finished.” I pause, hoping she changes her mind, only to continue when she raises a brow. “ I don’t know if Jo or my brothers have mentioned it. I was in a relationship up until last January . We were together for twelve years. Almost made it to thirteen, if I hadn’t caught her in bed with someone else.”
A small gasp sounds from across the table, but I keep my eyes trained on the napkin holder. “ It ended the moment I found them together. Looking back, it had been over for a while. You get comfortable in relationships and overlook things you shouldn’t. Anyway …they’re getting married. Next month.”
I jump when Quinn’s hand slaps down on the table, and when I look up, I see the sunshine woman is gone. Storm clouds might as well be rolling off her, she’s so angry. “ I’m all for girls supporting girls. She sounds like a real…you know what, give me her address. I’ll speak to her.”
She jumps up, and despite never having told anyone but my brothers this story, I find myself laughing at her chivalry. My fingers wrap around her arm, and I shouldn’t love the way my hand engulfs her dainty wrist as I tug her back down. “ Please don’t go all white knight on me. My ego couldn’t take it.”
“ I’m sorry, carry on.” Her teeth are clenched so hard she’s close to cracking a molar.
Angry Quinn is as cute as happy Quinn . If not, sexier.
“ She sent out invitations and I knew I’d get one. My whole family would. ”
“ What type of person invites their ex and his family to their wedding?”
If she was angry before, this is going to trigger something different entirely. “ The type of person who is also marrying my cousin.”
Quinn’s nostrils flare, and I’m tempted to give her Jenna and Ralph’s address just to see her roll through there like a little angry hurricane. “ Long story short, I need to go. I’m over her—so over her—but Booth thinks this is a power play on her part.”
She holds up a hand, stopping me. “ Wait , why do you need to go?”
This is the part I was hoping to avoid, but I can’t lie to her. “ Ralph —my cousin and Jenna’s fiancé—is from my dad’s side. My mom is really close to his parents and only my brothers know about the affair. Saying that, I’m pretty certain my sister has her suspicions. Anyway , I know I should have been honest with my mom about it all, but she was going through a difficult period at the time, and then the moment passed. I also don’t want to ruin what relationships she has with my dad’s only living family. It’s a lot. I know.”
I study her face, waiting to see judgment or distaste. Only it never comes. Anger on my behalf paints her features, plus a little empathy.
“ So you need a date?”
“ I need a date,” I echo. “ I don’t get, um, get out much and, well, you’re one of the few women I know who I’m not related to.”
Her next words shock me. “ I’d love to be your date. I know you have to be nice to the bride on their day, but I’m a real klutz. Red wine may splash on her dress,” she says with a wicked smile.
I offer her a weary one in return. “ The thing is, Jenna is from Sutton Bay . She lives in Augusta now, but still has friends and family here…”
My sentence trails off, and I hope Quinn can piece together what I’m implying, so I don’t have to repeat myself.
No such luck, because she sits there patiently, waiting for me to continue, and fuck, I’m going to have to ask her again.
“ There’s taking a random date and then there’s taking my girlfriend.”
Booth and I talked through this step in the process extensively. Jenna is a real stickler for rules, and I know for a fact she’s not going to allow me to turn up with any random woman. Her friends know I’m not currently seeing anyone, and they’ll report back to her the moment I put down Quinn’s name on the RSVP .
Well , if she says yes.
She bobs her head, waiting for me to continue. When her head freezes mid-nod, I know she understands where I’m going with this.
“ Oh .”
“ You don’t need to reply now, it’s fine.”
“ I , um, wow. Okay , so you want to, what, fake date me? Make her friends and family believe we’re together until…after the wedding?”
Groaning my face falls into my hands, elbows perched on the table to stop me from banging my head into it. “ This is Booth’s doing.” My voice is muffled by my palms. Embarrassment is boiling me from the inside out.
“ Can I think about it?” she murmurs, and my head shoots up. I must be seeing things, because does she look a little crestfallen?
“ You’re actually thinking about doing this?” My voice is laced with shock.
“ You asked.” She laughs. “ I want to help, if anything, to show that b-i-t-c-h that she has no hold over you anymore.”
“ I’ll be your official accountant, free of charge.”
She waves me off. “ You don’t need to do that. I’m happy to do it but give me a few days. It’s not every day someone asks me to be their girlfriend, let alone a fake one. Would it be okay if I spoke to Jo ? She’s my only friend here and I’ll make her swear not to tell anyone.”
“ Take all the time you need. I’m sure Booth has already told Patrick .” I can’t believe she’s even contemplating this and without wanting anything in return. “ If you decide it’s too weird, there are no hard feelings.”
“ It’s not weird, just a surprise. And here I thought a delivery of new cake stands was going to be the highlight of my day.” She laughs before pursing her lips in thought. There’s nothing in her tone or expression that makes me believe her relaxed persona is an act, and I can’t decide if that’s a good or a bad thing.“ I’ll have an answer for you by Monday .”
“ Monday .” I nod, trying not to look too wishful.
If she agrees, I’ll balance her books, file her taxes, and write up a business plan for her; no argument.
We both stand at the same time. This has gone better than I anticipated. Well , that is until I offer her a handshake in the form of a farewell.
Where is that meteor?
She stares at my outstretched arm in amusement before slipping her smooth palm over mine, putting me out of my misery when she jostles our joined hands.
“ How very formal of you, sir.” She smirks and I can’t help but smile back. “ I’ll see you Monday .”
“ Right , yeah, have a good day.” I walk backward, wanting to savor up every last drop of her. “ Enjoy the flowers.”
Her infectious smile stays on my mind the entire drive into the city and most of the day.
During my commute home, however, I think about how this would go if I were someone else. The happy mood I left with after walking out of the bakery slowly evaporates and is non-existent by the time I get back to my apartment .
Once the sun has set and I’ve frantically finishedmoving my schedule around for next week, making room for Quinn in the hopes she says yes, the sound of my laptop slamming shut is music to my ears. Opening the drawer of my desk, I pull out my worn leather journal. It’s not even old, but I’ve flicked through the pages so many times, bending and folding the spine and edges, that it looks much more used than it is.
My dad was the one who taught me to journal. From a young age, he noticed how emotions would build up in me, making me feel overwhelmed or how I struggled to vocalize my feelings. I was thirteen when he bought me my first journal. It had my favorite baseball team’s emblem on it, nothing like the boring brown one I own today. I’ve lost count of how many I’ve gone through now that I’m thirty-three. I’ll never forget the intense relief I felt when I found somewhere to put the thoughts that were so difficult to navigate. Like someone finally threw me a buoy after years of treading rough waters.
Tonight , the words come easily, despite their reminders of an embarrassing day, and I feel ten times better when they’ve been scribbled down.
It’s the perfect outlet for my emotions, and in the last few years of my and Jenna’s relationship, I filled up dozens of them. We had been dating for a few years, when she found one of my old ones and recited some of the entries to me mockingly. Looking back, her spiteful words should have made me realize we were always going to end in disaster. No one should ever feel like they can’t express themselves freely in a relationship, yet I’d found myself in a decade-long one.
I’ve always been quieter than most, that’s just who I am. It takes me a while to feel comfortable around new people. Sometimes , words don’t come as easy to me, but if you give me a moment, I’ll get there.
My friends and family understand and accept those parts of me, and at first, I thought Jenna accepted that side of me too .
I just wish it didn’t take me so long to realize how untrue that was.
She tried to change me. Mold me into something she wanted. And when she was done with me, she spat out a version of myself that I no longer recognized. Who doubts themself more. Overthinks everything they say.
I don’t like this version, but as my eyes scan over tonight’s entry, I’m not sure how to be anyone else.
In a world where I’m not awkward, I’d be taking her out for dinner.
I’d hold the door of my car open for her as the skirt of her dress blows in the wind.
I’d let her pick the music we listen to as we drive to the restaurant.
I wouldn’t care when she picked food off my plate.
I’d eat dessert for her. Fuck , I’d eat her for dessert if I could.
In my ideal world, this would never be fake.
The feelings I have for her already scare me, and I know I’m asking for trouble proposing this idea.
But I am awkward. I’m not confident. I say the wrong thing the majority of the time. And the only way I could ever get someone like Quinn to be with someone like me is if it’s fake. Quinn is so far out of my league. If she somehow manages to convince people she could be interested in me, she deserves a standing ovation.
Gray isn’t a color you find in the rainbow and there’s a reason for that.