Chapter 23
Avery
The windows were cracked open, letting in the faint hum of the city and a slow-moving summer breeze that cooled the sweat drying between them. The sheets were rumpled and pushed halfway down the bed, Avery sprawled across Quinn’s chest, warm and loose, her skin flushed and glowing.
Quinn’s fingers moved along her spine, following the same rhythm as before, softer now. Slower. Like she wasn’t quite ready to let the moment end. Avery wasn’t asleep. Just… soaking it in. Settling.
They’d done more than fuck. That much was clear.
This was after. The part that lingered. The part that came when the adrenaline faded and there was still something worth staying for.
She shifted slightly, propping herself on one elbow.
Her curls stuck out in a dozen directions.
Her lips still felt swollen from kisses. Everything about her felt open.
“Today went really well,” she said quietly.
Quinn nodded beneath her. “It did.”
They let the silence stretch for a beat.
Then Avery traced a slow line along Quinn’s ribs and asked, softer, “Can I ask you something?”
“You always can,” Quinn said.
Avery hesitated for half a second. Not out of fear. Just because it mattered. “How do we do this?”
Quinn tilted her head slightly. “The merger?”
Avery shook her head and lifted her eyes to meet Quinn’s. “No. Us.”
The word settled between them. Quinn didn’t look away. “I think…” Quinn began carefully, “we talk. All the time. We name what’s happening. We stay honest. We don’t pretend the lines aren’t blurry. We just learn how to hold them together.”
Avery studied her face while she spoke. There was no distance there. No deflection.
“I can do that,” Avery said, a small smile tugging at her mouth.
“We keep our professional shit clean,” Quinn continued. “Work stays work. But when it’s just us…” Her hand slid up, brushing Avery’s cheek gently. “We let it be ours.”
Avery nodded slowly. “Yeah. That sounds right.”
They lay there, bodies cooling, warmth still threaded between them. Avery listened to Quinn’s breathing beneath her, steady and real.
“This is starting to feel like more than just… casual,” Avery said after a moment. She didn’t feel nervous saying it. Just honest. “Like it’s becoming something bigger.” She held Quinn’s gaze. Didn’t hide. “That’s what this is for me. At least.”
Quinn didn’t retreat. Didn’t joke. She brushed a strand of hair off Avery’s forehead and nodded once. “It’s going that way for me too.”
The simplicity of it made something unclench in Avery’s chest. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until it left her in a quiet exhale.
She rolled onto her back beside Quinn, their shoulders still touching, and slid her hand beneath the sheet until she found Quinn’s. Their fingers laced easily.
“Okay,” Avery said, staring at the ceiling now. “So how do we do this long-distance part?”
Quinn turned her head toward her. “We commit. Not just to each other, but to being present.” She paused. “Since we’re—well more than likely—going to be running a company together, I think we both need to travel. Once a month. Back and forth.”
Avery blinked, turning her head to look at her. “You’d do that?”
“I’d want to.” Quinn squeezed her hand. “I don’t want this to be one of those things that falls apart because we’re tired or busy or lazy. We make the time. We show up.”
Avery looked at her, throat tight for a different reason now. “That’s… really fucking mature of you.”
“Would you travel to L.A.?” Quinn asked softly.
“I would, of course.” Avery said without hesitation. “We’ll alternate. New York, L.A., maybe meet in the middle sometimes.”
“I’ve always liked Chicago.” Quinn teased.
Avery grinned. “You would.”
Quinn pulled her closer, their legs tangling naturally. Avery fit against her like she’d been doing it for years. “We’re going to figure it out,” Quinn said.
“I believe you,” she whispered. And she did.
“We’re really doing this,” Avery murmured against Quinn’s chest.
“We’re really doing this,” Quinn echoed.
For once, loving someone didn’t feel like a risk to her, It felt like a reward.
It felt like something they were choosing. Something they were building on purpose.
—
Quinn was set to leave before the sun came up. Avery blinked awake to the quiet zip of a suitcase and the low hum of traffic far below the window. The room was dim, washed in soft blue-gray shadows, but the smell of coffee drifted in from the kitchen.
Her chest tightened at the sound of Quinn moving around—quiet, careful.
Too late. Avery pushed the sheets down and padded out barefoot.
Quinn stood by the front door, fully dressed in soft black trousers and a navy sweater, hair swept back, suitcase by her feet.
Her phone was in one hand. Coffee in the other.
She looked up when Avery appeared, and her expression softened instantly. “Hey,” Quinn said gently. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t,” Avery said as she stepped closer, still sleep-warm and messy-haired, oversized T-shirt slipping off one shoulder. “You were going to leave without saying goodbye?”
Quinn smiled, small and sheepish. “I was going to kiss your forehead and whisper something poetic. But this works too.”
Avery rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around Quinn’s waist. “How early is your flight?”
“Seven. Car will be downstairs in five minutes.”
They swayed slightly in the quiet. “I wish you could stay,” Avery said. “I have that Women in Tech panel Monday and—”
“I know, baby.” Quinn kissed her softly, “And you’re going to kill it.”
“You’ll text when you land?” Avery asked against her shoulder.
“Always.” Quinn promised.
“And a week in a half?” Avery asked looking up at her.
Quinn kissed her forehead. “Yes, Seven days. I’ll be back before you can miss me too much.”
Avery leaned back and looked up at her. “Too late.”
Quinn kissed her, slow and sure. The promise lingered in coffee and warmth. When they pulled apart, Avery didn’t want to let go, but she did. “Go run your empire,” she whispered.
“You too.” Quinn said with a squeeze of her hand before letting all the way go and slipping out.
Then Quinn was gone, the door clicking shut behind her. The apartment felt too quiet.
—
By ten, Avery was in the office. The buzz of Lilith on a Friday grounded her. Familiar. Fast-moving, controlled chaos. Keyboards clicking. The hiss of the espresso machine. Voices layered over each other.
She stepped into the glass conference room where Gabby was already waiting, laptop open.
“You look like you slept with someone who left at dawn,” Gabby said without glancing up.
Avery dropped into the chair beside her. “That’s weirdly accurate.”
“I’m gifted.” Gabby teased. Though she knew, Avery texted her at 8 A.M. “Want to talk merger?”
“Let’s do it,” Avery nodded.
They got into it quickly. The numbers. The structure.
The breakdown Quinn had laid out: Halo holding sixty percent, Lilith retaining forty between her and Gabby.
Continued autonomy, and branding. Team control without any gutting.
No rebranding. No corporate bullshit… Just resources and support. A real partnership.
“I like it,” Gabby said after a beat. “Actually, I kind of love it.”
Avery nodded, tapping her water bottle thoughtfully. “Me too. It’s smart. It’s fair.”
“She didn’t have to offer it that way.” Gabby said.
“No,” Avery said. “She didn’t. But she did.”
Gabby looked at her then. “You trust her?”
Avery met her gaze without hesitation. “Yeah. I do.”
Gabby studied her for a second before leaning back with a sigh. “Then I’m in.”
The air shifted. “So…” Gabby said, a smirk forming. “You gonna say it or should I?”
Avery narrowed her eyes. “Say what?”
Gabby gave her a look. There was a long pause and Avery tried not to smile. She Failed.
“I think she’s my girlfriend now,” she said, the words still new but right. Solid.
Gabby grinned. “Damn right she is.”
They high-fived like middle schoolers. Then they got back to work like adults who ran a successful company. Avery couldn’t stop smiling.
—