44. Quinn
Quinn
“You are the Queen of Love,” Jasmine smiles, holding both of my hands in hers as we stand by the door to my office.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I smile back.
But she just grins, shaking her head with tears in her eyes as she studies me.
“I do,” she says. “You are the saving grace for all of us just trying to navigate through the murky waters of marriage.”
“She’s right,” her husband, Theo, agrees. “I don’t know where we’d be without you. Divorced probably.”
They both chuckle, and then finally she lets go of my hands, freeing them up so I can open the door.
“I’ll call you once I have a therapist referral. And if you’re happy with the profile, I’ll send their information to you and the therapist will call you within the week,” I tell them, standing with the door open.
“You think anyone will be up to the challenge?” Theo asks.
“Oh, I think I know just the person,” I say. Though I’m not talking about Allegra. This couple is going to need something more extensive than Allegra has time for. And for that, I am using Megan. Megan is…a relationship trauma enthusiast. She’ll eat this couple up.
“Again, thank you,” Jasmine says, clutching me again. But luckily Theo comes to the rescue.
“We’ve thanked her enough, Jazz, let’s let the woman close up for the night. She deserves it.”
“She does,” Jasmine agrees, letting go once again. “And a glass of wine.”
“You can count on it,” I say with a forced laugh. A moment later, they walk away, though not without waving. I wave back and close the door. Then I lock it, pull the blinds, and let out the world’s most persecuted sigh.
My job is rewarding.
It’s fulfilling and amazing and never ceases to challenge, surprise, and delight me. And yet…
My job is utterly exhausting.
As I close up shop for the evening, thanking God I have no clients tomorrow and don’t plan on checking any emails or voicemails, or any other kinds of mail for that matter, I tell myself I need to decompress.
I stand over the diffuser for a hot minute, inhaling the lavender oil at a possibly toxic amount and not giving a flying Fig Newton.
Because after the week I’ve had, I need a break. A release. I need?—
Ding.
My phone buzzes with the sound of a text. A text from Allegra. Right now, she is the only person I will take any communication from, and I swipe the stream open.
Allegra: I just had a session from hell. Wine?
I almost start crying as I vigilantly text her back.
Quinn: Yes, ma'am. Where?
Allegra: Velvet Coupe?
Quinn: I’ll be there in 10.
With that, I yank the diffuser cord, kill the lights, and grab my things.
I am not usually one to run to a bottle when things get hard.
But the way I see it, I’m not running to a bottle.
I’m running to Allegra, my friend who is also having a shitty week apparently.
We are running towards each other. A support system. And there’s nothing wrong with that.
I walk into Velvet Coupe and bypass the hostess stand. I know Allegra is already here because I saw her car out front. A Kia Telluride with a car seat in the back and a vanilla Yankee Candle air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror.
I make my way through the place, past multiple tables of people eating small-plate appetizers and sipping on wine.
I am smiling, a real smile, for the first time in I don’t know how long.
Because I need this. I need to eat bougie little crostinis and maybe a dessert, and I need a big tall glass of Chardonnay.
I need to order the bottle, not just one glass, because I want to fill it past halfway.
I’m no Italian, but I do know that they know how to pour wine, and you can bet your ass it’s more than halfway.
I round a corner and see Allegra. I’d know her gorgeous brown hair anywhere. My smile widens as she waves, and I raise my hand to wave back. But then…I stop. She’s not alone. Not only that, but I know the people she is with.
It’s the Overholt’s.
Ugh.
I know that shouldn’t be my reaction, but working in the psych field (because if you think about it, that’s what I do) requires the need for switching hats.
And right now, I don’t have my We Still Do hat on.
I have my get drunk and talk trash with my friend hat on.
Allegra waves me over to the table again because apparently I’ve stopped dead in the middle of the aisle, blocking a waiter with a tray of glasses and a woman trying to get to the bathroom.
“Michael. Ashley. Imagine seeing you here…” I say with the best smile I can manage.
“Actually, Allegra invited us,” Ashley says, and my smile falters. Actually, it nearly falls off my face.
“She did?” I ask, turning to Allegra. Then, with my eyes wide and my voice coming through my teeth, I repeat myself. “You did?”
“I did,” she says, and I shoot her a look to kill.
“It was our idea,” Ashley says, taking a seat and motioning for me to do the same. There’s already multiple appetizers on the table as well as two bottles of wine.
“Really,” I say, sitting down next to Allegra.
“Well, it was partially mine,” Allegra says, and I casually kick her under the table. Because I very much did not think this was a work call. And guessing by her smile and her refusal to make eye contact, she knows how upset I am about it. And yet…here we are.
“We wanted to thank you,” Ashley says.
“We already talked to August,” Michael adds, sitting down last and digging into the food. And we are really doing this. We are really having a meal like old friends and–
“Wait,” I interrupt my own thoughts. “Did you say you talked to Reid? I mean, August.”
“We did,” Ashley smiles.
“Let me guess…he came after you. I knew it.”
“No,” Michael says. “We went to him. To thank him, too.”
“Oh?” I ask, reaching for my wine. Because I might as well. “And how did that go?”
“He didn’t know how to take it,” Ashley giggles.
“I’m sure he didn’t,” I muse.
“But we wanted to say the same to you,” Michael goes on. “And when we told Allegra that at our last session, well, she said we should tell you ourselves.”
“Did she now?” I ask. But Allegra’s smile is genuine.
“I did. I also told them that you and Reid knew each other before we knew he was connected to the case,” she adds, and I choke.
“You what?” I ask. “Allegra! Isn’t that like…aren’t there rules against sharing info like that in therapy?”
“Info about them, yes. You aren’t in therapy…” she says, and then smiles again.
“Seriously, we really are just here to thank you,” Michael says.
“And…maybe to talk about how you should give him a chance…” Ashley says carefully, and this time I make no attempt to hide my glare at Allegra.
“Oh really? And why would you say that?” I ask.
“Why not?” Michael asks.
I scoff, a high-pitched sound like a bird that catches the attention of more than one person around us.
Then I take a gulp of wine before going on.
“Well, if Allegra hasn’t already filled you in, Reid accused me of using him.
For money. He was actually the one funding We Still Do before you came to my rescue.
Thank you for that, by the way. He also accused me of not being…
genuine…” I say, and I am shocked when my voice cracks.
“About my feelings. Apparently, he doesn’t think they were real. ”
“But they were,” Ashley says softly.
I nod. “Yes. Very real. Real enough that I let myself fall for him. Which was obviously a mistake.”
“Was it though?” Allegra asks, and I look over at her. She knows something. And that’s when I remember something. Something Reid mentioned.
“You talked to him,” I state. “He said something about talking to you, and I overlooked it. But you talked to him. And you didn’t tell me.”
“I couldn’t,” she says. “It was in confidence.”
Fair enough. And yet…really?
I look around the table at these three people who know my whole story. People who I would normally be helping. Helping find love and fighting for love. And now the tables have turned, and I don’t know if I like it.
“Have you tried talking to him?” Michael asks.
“He came to me, but I don’t feel like saying sorry is enough, you know?” I say as I load my plate with food, licking my fingers before taking a bite.
“Is it not?” Michael asks, and Ashley chimes in too.
“He’s right. I mean, if he’s trying to fix it.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know if he can fix this.”
“But…any relationship can be saved,” Michael says, and I stop chewing to look at him. “You told us that.”
“I know,” I say. “I know I did. I just…it’s harder to believe on this end of things, you know?”
“Oh, we know,” Ashley says.
“I don’t know…” I trail off. Then Allegra chimes in.
“I shouldn’t say this. And I won’t say more than I legally can. But…” she narrows her eyes and purses her lips, trying to decide how to say what she wants to say without crossing any red tape. “He loves you, Quinn.”
“Oh, really?” I snort, taking a bite of bruschetta.
“Yes. Really. No offense, Quinn, but I’m a therapist. I know these things.”
“You know these things?” I ask with a nod as I chew.
“I know these things,” she repeats.
“So what, did he tell you this?” I ask. Suddenly, everyone stops. They’re staring behind me. I stare at them, watching as Michael diverts his attention and Ashley’s eyes widen and Allegra bites back a smile, and looks at the food.
“I did,”
Reid’s voice stops me cold.
Slowly, I turn around and, sure enough, I’m not imagining things. Reid is standing there, one hand in his jeans pocket. He’s wearing jeans! Fitted, sexy jeans! What even is this right now?! His other hand raking through his blondish, honey-ish, silver hair.
“What are you–” I start, but he cuts me off.
“What am I doing here?” he asks. “I came to talk to you. Again.”
“Right here?” I ask.
“I mean, I’ll do it here,” he shrugs. “I’ll tell everyone at this table, everyone in this restaurant how I feel, just so you can hear it again. Or–”
“Or we can step outside,” I say.
“I have a better idea,” Allegra says, standing up and motioning for the other two to do the same. “We will go. You two stay and talk things out.”
“And when you’re done, enjoy dinner,” Ashley smiles and nods.
They’re nuts. They’re all insane. Even Michael. I mean, I know my aim was to make these two fall back in love. But I didn’t expect them to pull something like this. This is like…some end of the movie shit. This is…
“This is crazy,” Reid says. “I know. But I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”
And I know Reid well enough to know he’s telling the truth.
So I watch Allegra and Mike and Ashley walk away, silently cursing them as we go.
And then Reid sits next to me, close enough that he can talk low enough that no one else can hear.
Of course, they still try to hear. Considering everyone in the whole place is already invested, I’m sure they want to see how this is going to pan out. No pressure at all, of course.
“Quinn,” he says, and I do my best to focus on him and only him. Honestly, it’s not hard. His blue eyes make everything…easy. It’s terrifying. And annoying.
“Yes…?”
He opens his mouth, and it stays parted as he searches for words, shaking his head slightly. “I just…I need you to know…” he stops, and I swear the man actually blushes. It’s faint, but it’s there. Not only that, but he’s speechless.
August Reid Remington is speechless.
And it’s because of me.
“I’m sorry,” he stutters. “I came here with this whole speech in mind. This way to convince you that I love you and my feelings are different than anything I’ve ever felt before.
And I know that now because my walls are down and I can’t think about anything or anyone but you and I’m questioning everything now because of what you’ve showed me about love and possibility and hope and–”
“What did you say?” I ask and he stops.
“Which…part?” he asks.
“The first part,” I say.
He thinks back. “I’m sorry?”
“After that…”
“I’ve never felt this way before,” he says, and I smile.
“Before that…”
“I…love you.”
I swallow hard, searching his eyes. And he goes on.
“It’s true, Quinn. I love…I am in love…with you.
And I hate that it took me so long to realize that.
To realize that nothing I have experienced before came even remotely close to this.
To the way I feel when we are together, on wedding dates and at restaurants and in hotel rooms and doing everything and nothing.
I’ve never felt it before because I’ve never had the real thing before.
But you are the real thing, Quinn Delaney.
You are smart and beautiful and sunny and funny and…
and…I lose words when I’m with you. I talk for a living, persuade people for a living, and I can’t seem to figure out the right thing to say to you because–”
“Reid,” I stop him. “Shut up.”
He blinks.
“Just…don’t say anything else,” I tell him, and his lips go slack.
“Because it’s over?” he asks.
“No,” I smile, reaching up to touch his face. “Because I love you. And you don’t need to explain yourself anymore.”
With that, his smile comes back, and he presses his forehead to mine, just like he did the night we felt everything and shared everything, and yet didn’t need to say a word.
Then we kiss. Our mouths draw together, meeting each other in the middle, and we kiss so deeply that everything else fades from the room around us.
Because while it seemed hopeless, while I felt helpless, I realize something. I wasn’t looking at the world through rose-colored glasses. I was looking through my eyes. Eyes that believed in love. Believed that it isn’t just a feeling, but something that has to be worked for. Fought for. Chased.
And right now, Reid is showing me that.
The divorce lawyer is showing me that.
And it’s enough for me to believe that my love story, messy and infuriating and complicated as it is, is sitting right in front of me.
And I kiss him again.