Chapter 10
Avery
It had been just over a week since Quinn left New York, and Avery was doing her best not to think about her. Which, of course, meant she was thinking about her constantly anyway.
Work helped: endless meetings, user feedback reports, and a half-dozen product updates that demanded her attention. But even in the busiest moments, Quinn found her way back in.
The sound of her voice during a strategy meeting replayed in Avery’s head. The scent of her perfume, still lingering faintly in the conference room. The way she’d looked back before stepping into that elevator, calm and unreadable, while Avery stood there pretending she didn’t care.
Pretending took effort. She didn’t have the energy for it.
Now, a week later, she sat in Gabby’s kitchen with a glass of wine in hand, surrounded by the people who kept her steady.
The apartment was alive with warmth and noise: music low on the speaker, takeout containers crowding the counter, Natalie barefoot and laughing at something Gabby said.
It felt normal. Grounding. Everything she’d missed about slowing down.
Gabby’s place was a mix of chaos and charm, with plants on every windowsill, art from a local queer collective stacked in mismatched frames, and a corkboard full of photos from Lilith’s early days.
Avery was in half of them: messy bun, takeout coffee, eyes bright with that kind of startup-era exhaustion that only felt romantic in hindsight.
She’d been here a hundred times before, but tonight still felt different.
Quieter, even with the music. She’d spent the last week trying to convince herself Quinn’s absence didn’t matter, that she didn’t care when her phone didn’t light up with an email or a text or even a stupid LinkedIn notification.
But she did care. More than she wanted to.
She tipped her wine glass, watching the liquid swirl, and forced herself to look away from her phone on the counter.
“Are you waiting for something?” Natalie teased from across the room.
“Just a miracle,” Avery said dryly.
Gabby chuckled, opening another bottle of wine. “At least you’re honest.”
They fell into easy conversation, work gossip, weekend plans, Natalie’s latest dating app disasters—until both Avery’s and Gabby’s phones buzzed at once.
A shared look. Gabby wiped her hands on a towel, grabbed her phone, and frowned. “Oh, this should be good.”
Avery picked hers up too, unlocking it. The subject line made her stomach tighten.
From: Quinn Sinclare
To: Lilith Executive Team
Subject: Thursday’s Meeting with The Loop Collective
Dear Lilith Executive Team,
Thank you for the invitation to Thursday’s meeting with The Loop Collective.
I will be attending in person, arriving in New York Wednesday evening and departing Sunday.
I look forward to connecting at the meeting and continuing our conversations about potential future endeavors.
Best regards,
Quinn Sinclare
Halo CEO and Founder.
Avery’s heart gave one solid, heavy thud.
“Fuck,” she said quietly.
Gabby’s lips curved. “Excited fuck or worried fuck?” Gabby asked.
Avery’s smile was small, betraying her. “Both.”
Natalie glanced between them. “What’s going on?”
Gabby grinned, always ready to stir the pot. “Avery decided Quinn should be at this Loop Collective meeting on Thursday, she gave her the option to attend virtually or in person. Guess which one she chose?”
Natalie’s grin spread. “Oh, someone wants to see their girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Avery said immediately.
“Yet,” Natalie said, taking a sip of wine.
“I just think it’s smart business,” Avery countered, a little too fast. “The Loop Collective has been with us since day one. They handle our community trust audits, inclusivity checks, and user safety. I need to make sure Halo understands what they represent before we go any further.”
Gabby smirked. “You mean before you go any further.”
Avery glared. “Don’t start.”
Gabby ignored her. “You lit up like Times Square when you saw her name pop up on your screen.”
“Hey. Shut up.” Avery tried to look stern, but the heat rising in her cheeks betrayed her.
Because she was excited. This was exactly what she’d hoped for when she sent that email.
Avery barely slept that night.
She’d gone to bed early Wednesday night, hoping exhaustion would win out. Instead, she’d stared at the ceiling for hours, thinking about Quinn. About seeing her again. About the way she’d looked the last time they’d been in the same room together. Calm, collected, perfectly in control.
By 6:30, she gave up pretending. She swung her legs out of bed, padded to the kitchen, and made coffee strong enough to sting. The city was still half asleep, the October air crisp through the cracked window, and for a moment, she just stood there, mug in hand, telling herself it wasn’t a big deal.
Except it was.
She’d invited Quinn here. She’d set this in motion. And now, Quinn Sinclare, the woman who’d gotten under her skin in every possible way, had flown across the country after the email Avery had written.
So yes, it was a big deal.
She showered, blew out her hair, and curled it in soft waves.
Makeup, polished and not trying too hard.
Red lipstick, because she could. She pulled on a black silk blouse tucked into a fitted skirt that hit mid-thigh, layered it with a cream blazer, and shrugged into her wool coat.
No tights. Her legs were bare and her heels were high. She looked good. She knew it.
And maybe she wanted Quinn to know it too.
By eight, she was out the door, coffee from Starbucks in one hand, nerves buzzing under the surface.
At the office, she sat behind her desk pretending to work, replying to a few emails, rearranging some folders, rereading the same sentence on her screen until it blurred. Every tick of the clock crawled closer to ten.
Gabby arrived around nine, heels clicking against the floor, two coffees in hand and mischief already in her eyes.
“Well, well,” she said, setting a cup down in front of Avery. “Someone looks dangerously good for a Thursday morning meeting.”
Avery didn’t look up from her screen. “I always look good,” Avery said flatly.
“Sure,” Gabby said, smirking. “But this is strategically good. The kind of good that says, ‘Oh, you thought you could play it cool? Watch me.’”
“Gabby.” Avery warned.
“I’m just saying.” She dropped into the chair across from her. “You haven’t stopped checking the clock since I walked in.”
Avery sighed, finally closing her laptop. “The Loop Collective team will be here at ten.”
“And Quinn?”
Avery shrugged, keeping her voice casual. “I assume ten.”
Gabby studied her for a long moment, then leaned back. “You know, you could just talk to her. Tell her how you feel.”
Avery gave her a look. “How am I supposed to tell her how I feel when I don’t even know how I feel? She’s trying to buy my company, and I’m… mad about that. But also, she’s the best sex I’ve ever had, and I can’t stop thinking about her. So, yeah, kind of hard to sort through that mess.”
Gabby grinned. “That’s fair. Conflicted, horny, and emotionally unavailable. You’re thriving.”
Avery groaned, dragging a hand through her hair. “You’re insufferable.”
“I know. But I’m right.” Gabby stood, smoothing her skirt. “Anyway, you’ve got about forty-five minutes to keep pretending you don’t care. I’ll see you before the meeting.”
Avery rolled her eyes but smiled as Gabby walked out. She tried to go back to her laptop, but it was pointless. Her thoughts were a carousel of Quinn: her voice, her smirk, that maroon suit from their first meeting.
At 9:45, the soft knock on her open office door almost made her jump.
Quinn stood in the doorway, one hand braced lightly against the frame, posture relaxed but deliberate. “Can I come in?” she asked.
Avery’s pulse stuttered before she managed, “Of course.” She kept her tone even and gestured toward the chair across from her desk.
Quinn stepped inside, and Avery forced herself not to stare. She looked incredible. The maroon pantsuit was perfectly tailored, the jacket open just enough to reveal a silk camisole beneath. Her platinum hair was styled sleek and sharp, her makeup precise without being heavy.
Avery’s stomach dipped despite herself, and she reached for her pen just to have something in her hands.
Quinn took the chair across from her and crossed one leg over the other with unhurried control. “Thank you for inviting me to this meeting,” she said, smoothing a crease at her cuff. “I was hoping we could speak beforehand. I’d like to understand what you want me to take away from it.”
Avery nodded, grateful for the professional framing.
“The Loop Collective is very important to Lilith,” she said, keeping her gaze steady.
“They handle our community engagement, safety audits, and inclusivity reviews. They’re a large part of why our app remains one of the safest spaces for queer users online.
If Halo moves forward with an acquisition, I need to know that partnership will be protected. ”
Quinn listened without interrupting, her eyes attentive in a way that felt almost personal.
“I appreciate you being clear about that,” she replied.
“I’m looking forward to seeing how they operate in practice.
In situations like this, it varies. It depends on infrastructure, internal teams, where there’s overlap. ”
Avery leaned back slightly and crossed her arms, studying her. “And what would you normally do?” she asked.
“Well,” Quinn said evenly, “we have a strong moderation structure. Advanced flagging systems. Risk mitigation tools. Support layers for human teams.” She paused briefly, her gaze flicking to Avery’s mouth before returning to her eyes.
“But I’m here to understand how The Loop Collective strengthens Lilith. How they make it what it is.”
Avery felt that pause more than she wanted to. “That’s good to hear,” she said, her voice steady even as her fingers tightened slightly around her pen.