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The week passed slower than oil paints dry and faster than a storm all at the same time. Today was the day. Quinn didn’t want to go, but she needed to go.
If for nothing else, to not catch it on the back end from her parents and Claire.
She could have started over with another group, but who’s to say that would’ve gone any better? Best just to stick it out.
Maybe just get through today.
During their workdays, Claire managed small visits, miming drinking coffee, exclaiming how great coffee tasted, or just outright saying Quinn looked like she could use some coffee. A day at the spa would be great, but coffee would do just as well.
Claire was a pain. But Quinn wouldn’t give her up for the world. She’d been there through the rough days, crying with her, holding her, making her eat. And now she was making her think she did need some coffee. What could having another friend hurt? Especially one who could relate.
Thwarted by Claire. Just like high school all over again.
Quinn paused before the community center doors, her deep breath not relaxing at all. Her feet poised to turn and run, but she planted them firmly. Running would take her back to the bottom of the abyss she’d been trying to climb out of.
So she grasped the door handle and flung it open. Cold air rushed out, cooling her hot skin, and soft voices from those visiting in the corridor enveloped her. Just her luck, Nick and Mrs. LaRue stood halfway down the hall. She in bright-red everything—at least it matched her lipstick—and he in a short-sleeve white Henley that left nothing to be desired.
This time he looked in need of a rescue.
He’d saved her from a run-in with her least favorite person. Perhaps she should do the same. Nope. He knew Mrs. LaRue. He could handle her.
She ducked her head and quickened her pace to sneak past them. Next time she’d be conveniently late again.
As she tried to pass, Mrs. LaRue stepped into her personal space. “Quinn, I’m so glad you decided to join us again.”
Quinn shook the woman’s cold hand—her fingernails should be blue—then smiled at Nick. “Thank you again for helping me with my truck last week.” Speaking in code. Maybe they were destined to be friends.
He smiled back. “Anytime.”
Shimmying past the smiling LaRue, who spread out those red-painted lips too wide and looked at her like a kitty on catnip, Quinn slid into the room and took the seat she’d occupied during the first week’s session. Her heart thundered in her chest. How was she going to get him to ask her for coffee again? She wrung her hands in her lap and resisted rolling her eyes. Seriously, why worry about it? It would be fine if he didn’t. She’d tell Claire he didn’t ask, and that’d be the end of it.
Except with Claire, there was no end to it.
When the others filed in, Quinn busied herself by checking her email—all three of them. She’d already cleared the day’s mail. She’d know better next Monday.
Wait. Next Monday? That thought came easily. First, she’d become a regular. Next, she’d be spilling her guts. She pressed a hand to her stomach and drew in slow, steady breaths until the ill sensation that thought caused passed.
Like last session, she didn’t speak. Barbara spoke about her husband. Beth cried, and no one could understand what she was saying. But concentrating on their hardships made it easier not to crumble over her own.
Until Charles spoke about his daughter. A tear rolled unchecked down her cheek. Quinn wiped it away before anyone saw, blinked back the rest, and hugged her sweater tighter around her, needing Brendan’s arms to hold her.
Nick spoke some. He was quite good at getting others to share, but all she could think of was coffee. Not the hot black liquid or all the creamer she could pour into it, but the conversation to be had over it. What would he want to talk about? How much did he want to get to know her?
When the session ended, she clutched her purse, eager to run out of the room and never stop running. But the vision of Claire with a cup of coffee had Quinn pretending to dig for her keys until she could figure out what to do.
What if he didn’t ask again? What if she left before he could? What would Claire say when she found out?
Ugh! Was it such a big deal?
Disgusted, she threw her bag over her shoulder.
Before she could make it from her chair, Nick sat beside her. “Hey, Quinn.”
“Oh, hey, Nick.” Her guts turned flips.
“You okay?”
“Sure, why?” Wit always worked for an icebreaker. “Oh, you noticed I was coming to grief counseling.”
She grinned as he chuckled. “You could say I noticed.” He lowered his voice. “I saw the tear, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Awkward, but all right. “You didn’t feel the need to make sure everyone else was okay?”
“I know these people.” He waved a hand around the room. “They cry every week. You? Not so much.”
“I don’t cry, or you don’t know me?” Was that enough of a hint?
“Both actually.”
But that was all he said, so she filled the space between them. “I’m fine.”
“Well, I did notice you were at grief counseling, so I wanted to ask. I’m glad you decided to come back.”
He was sincere—and about to leave. “Yeah, it, um...” Good. Mrs. LaRue was occupied with Beth, rubbing the girl’s back and giving her tissues, so Quinn had a minute or two. “It took some haggling back and forth in my mind—and with my mom—and with Claire.”
“A friend?” He eased back into the chair beside her.
“Maybe not now.” She broke out in a grin at his expression. “Yes, a friend.”
“Go easy on her. It’s good to have supportive friends.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without her.” He wasn’t going to ask. “So... friends are good.”
“Friends are great.”
“I was thinking—maybe—I could, um...” Oh, just say it. “Cash in that rain check.”
A wrinkle appeared between his brows. “You want to get coffee?”
“Are you asking?”
“I thought you just did.”
“No.” She shook her head. “But yes.”
Something softened the hard lines of his face, and his blue eyes shone. “You don’t have to, Quinn.”
“No, but yes. I need coffee—apparently. You know, ‘no obligations, just coffee’?”
He nodded. “Just coffee.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Dr. Holiday crossing the room.
As she cringed, Nick stood. “How about Cafe Cubana down on Sheridan, say twenty minutes?”
“Twenty minutes.”
She clued in quicker this time and snuck behind him as he stepped away to meet the doctor. He became Superman once again, flying in to save the day.
She should buy him a T-shirt with a big S on the front. A huge T-shirt so it wasn’t too tight over those rippling muscles. She choked on the thought as she stormed through the door.
In the hall, her racing heart thudded in her ears. She’d agreed to get coffee with Nick. Asked even. Or did he? Guilt crawled under her skin. This couldn’t be the right thing to do. She should run. End this now. In twenty minutes, she could be home.
A normal walk grew impossible. She jogged to the truck. The headlights came on as the engine roared to life. A fine mist glazed the windshield. She hadn’t even noticed the moisture in her hair.
The steering wheel tight in her hands, she breathed in and out several times. The last breath in she held as she looked in the rearview mirror. Dusk was settling, and Nick was in the lit-up hall, shaking hands with the older men in the group. All smiles. Was he faking it like her?
What would it do to him if she skipped out?
Her shoulders slumped as she exhaled. No amount of running was going to make any of this go away. Leaving now, after she’d lured him in, wouldn’t be fair to her new kind-of-sort-of-friend.
Her last deep breath sealed the deal. “It’s just coffee, Quinn.” A new friendship. Brendan would be happy she was getting along better. Not angry she was moving on without him. This was okay.
A continuation of life didn’t mean she had to love again. She wouldn’t. Ever.
This was just friends. No obligations, just coffee.
She blotted her eyes with a tissue, pulled out of the parking lot, and turned toward Cafe Cubana.
