Chapter 18
Avery
It had been a long day, but when she got home and found a huge flower arrangement and a gift waiting at her door, the stress melted off her almost instantly.
She carried everything inside, and Henrietta immediately started meowing in protest at the delay in attention. The cat jumped onto the counter the second Avery set the flowers down, inspecting them like a suspicious royal.
“Aren’t they pretty?” Avery hummed, scratching behind Henrietta’s ear as she reached for the card.
Of course they were from Quinn.
She smiled to herself and opened the discreet box beside the arrangement, curiosity already buzzing under her skin. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but she definitely wasn’t prepared for what she saw.
She froze. Heat crept up her neck and settled low in her stomach. It was a vibrator. Sleek. Perfectly sized. Minimal. Very Quinn. And then she noticed the detail that made her breath hitch slightly.
It was app-controlled. From anywhere. A rush moved through her at the thought of Quinn on the other end of that control, miles away and still capable of undoing her. Avery swallowed, feeling her pulse jump as the possibility played out in her mind.
She smiled, opened the packaging properly, plugged it in to charge, and tried to go about the rest of her evening like her thoughts weren’t suddenly very, very distracted.
It was almost 10:15 p.m. when her phone finally lit up with Quinn’s name.
Avery had been curled up on the couch in her comfiest sweatshirt, a blanket over her legs and Henrietta sleeping soundly against her hip. She hadn’t realized how long she’d been scrolling until the sound made her heart lurch.
Quinn had said she’d call around eight. She hadn’t.
But Avery hadn’t taken it personally. She knew how these days went, how time slipped away in meetings and logistics and endless fire drills.
Quinn hadn’t ghosted her, at least, Avery told herself.
She was probably just working. The CEO. The woman Avery pictured flying home, walking straight into the fire, and still finding time for her.
She answered on the second ring.
“Hi,” Avery said, her voice already softer, warmer, like Quinn’s name alone could pull it out of her.
Quinn’s face filled the screen—messy bun, makeup gone, a gray tank top that revealed bare shoulders and soft lighting behind her. She looked tired but relaxed, and still unfairly hot.
“Hi,” Quinn murmured, her voice low and intimate. “I’m sorry. I know I said I’d call earlier.”
Avery shook her head, smiling. “You’re fine. I figured you got pulled in. It’s good to see your face.”
“You too,” Quinn said. Then quieter, like it caught her off guard. “Yeah. You too.”
Avery leaned back into the couch, shifting slightly so she didn’t wake Henrietta. “Long day?”
“The longest,” Quinn said with a small exhale.
“I was answering emails before half five, had four meetings and numerous calls, plus the messiest acquisition meeting of my career. I was all business bitch in heels for eleven straight hours. I finally got home around six, showered, ate a protein bar, and got into pajamas.” She panned the camera down briefly to show soft plaid pants and a loose tank. “This is me, in full soft mode.”
Avery grinned. “God, you’re cute when you’re off-duty.”
Quinn arched an eyebrow. “Careful. That almost sounded like flirting.”
“Oh, it was,” Avery said. “Shameless, in fact.”
They laughed, and it was easy. Familiar now. Avery felt it immediately—how much she’d missed hearing Quinn’s voice, how much she’d wanted this moment.
“Want the tour?” Quinn asked after a beat.
“Of course I do.”
Quinn flipped the camera and walked her through the house.
It was exactly what Avery expected, sleek, expensive, and effortlessly modern.
Wide open layout, high ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows with views of the hills.
Every piece of furniture looked curated but lived-in, like the kind of place designed for a photoshoot but still warm.
“And that,” Quinn said, pulling back a curtain, “is the infinity pool I will not be getting in because I’m too tired and it’s probably freezing.”
“You have an infinity pool?”
Quinn flipped the camera back to her face. “I do.”
Avery nodded, teasing. “So we’re doing this? Competing now? Because I can’t offer a pool, but I do have a very demanding cat and a nice couch.”
“I’d choose your couch and that cat right now over the whole damn skyline,” Quinn said, and her voice dipped just a little too close to vulnerable.
Avery swallowed around the sudden rush in her chest. “I miss you too.”
They sat there for a few beats, neither filling the silence. It felt honest.
“What time is it there now?” Quinn asked finally.
“Almost midnight.”
Quinn frowned. “You should be asleep.”
“So should you,” Avery said, smirking. “But we both know we’re not ready to hang up yet.”
A beat. Then Quinn smiled. “Do you want to… maybe… put on Killing Eve and watch one more episode? Like, at the same time?”
Avery’s heart melted on the spot. “Yes. God, yes.”
“Okay,” Quinn said, looking a little sheepish. “This is very gay of us.”
“We’ve crossed into long-distance domesticity already,” Avery teased. “No turning back now.”
They pulled it up on their respective TVs, Avery on the couch, Henrietta curling tighter into her side; Quinn propped up in bed with her laptop. They counted down, hit play, and settled in with shared smiles and warm silence.
For the next forty-two minutes, the distance between them didn’t feel so big.
The credits rolled, the screen dimmed, and Avery let out a yawn so big her jaw cracked.
“Avery,” Quinn said, her voice warm through the phone speaker, “you need sleep.”
Avery blinked at the screen, then back at Quinn’s face on her phone. “You’re probably right.”
Quinn tilted her head, smiling at her from the pillows of her too-nice L.A. bed. “I know I am. You’re fading on me.”
“Or…” Avery sat up a little straighter, her smirk mischievous. “We could test out that new vibrator you so confidently ordered to be delivered along with a beautiful bouquet of flowers this afternoon?”
Quinn raised her eyebrows. “Avery Franchesca Rossetti.”
The use of her full name, steady and low, sent a shiver down Avery’s spine.
“It’s time for sleep,” Quinn said, firm. “But soon. Very soon.”
Avery let out a dramatic sigh. “Ugh. Fine. Deny me my pleasure, why don’t you.”
Quinn smirked. “Trust me, when I’m on that end of the remote, you’ll be begging me to stop. One more day.”
“You’re cruel,” Avery said, grinning as she slid further down the couch. “So cruel.”
“But you love it.”
Avery nodded. “Unfortunately.”
They just looked at each other for second soft smiles, matching sleep-heavy eyes.
“Okay,” Avery finally whispered. “Goodnight, Quinn.”
“Goodnight, Avery.” Quinn’s voice dropped to that soft place Avery had come to crave. “Text me when you wake up?”
“Yeah,” Avery said. “Text me when you’re up too.”
“I will,” Quinn promised.
There was a pause. Neither one hung up.
“I miss you,” Avery said quietly.
“I miss you, too.” It was quiet a moment then they ended the call.
Avery reluctantly moved and made her way to her bedroom, set her phone on the nightstand, flicked off the light, and crawled into bed. Henrietta already curled up near the foot of the bed. She sank into the pillows with a soft sigh, the echo of Quinn’s voice still wrapped around her like a blanket.
Sleep took her quickly, and for the first time since Quinn left, she didn’t feel alone.
* * *
It was Thursday night at 9:37 p.m. when Avery checked the time on her phone again. She let out a long breath through her nose and locked the screen, trying not to let it get to her.
It was Thursday night.
They’d planned to try the toy on Tuesday.
That had been the plan. “Tomorrow,” Quinn had said, low and certain, like she already knew exactly how it would go.
But Tuesday had turned into back-to-back meetings for Quinn and a late client crisis for Avery.
Wednesday hadn’t been much better. The week had gotten away from them in that relentless, adult way where hours slipped through fingers no matter how tightly you tried to hold on.
Still, they’d talked every night since Quinn flew back to California.
Tuesday. Wednesday. Like clockwork. Conversations that started with casual check-ins and ended with tired laughter, soft goodnights, sometimes the same show playing on both their screens across three time zones.
Quinn had been the one to initiate most of it.
The one who sent the first texts. The one who FaceTimed in her pajamas from that sleek, echoey house, voice softer than Avery had ever expected from her.
They’d texted all day, too. Little things. Updates. Photos. A running thread that made the distance feel smaller.
Except today. Today there had been one text from Quinn that morning.
Quinn: Early start. Big day. I’ll call tonight.
Avery had responded.
After that? Nothing. No midday check-in. No flirty aside. No “thinking about you” message to break up the monotony.
Just silence. It wasn’t unreasonable to expect the pattern to continue. Not when Quinn had started it.
So no, she wasn’t mad. But the silence felt louder than it should have.
At 9:58 p.m. Avery tapped out a quick message.
Avery: Hey, just checking in. Still planning to call tonight?
She read it once. No emoji. Just light. Casual. She hit send.
Outside her window, the city moved in its usual quiet way. The occasional car. Wind through the trees. The low buzz of life. Henrietta was curled at the edge of the couch, tiny tail twitching in her sleep. The TV was paused, the remote untouched.
Avery glanced at her phone again. 10:43 p.m. and still nothing.
She exhaled sharply and tossed the phone onto the coffee table with more force than she meant to. The frustration wasn’t volcanic or explosive. It just sat there, simmering under her skin.