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Waiting to see Quinn—waiting to see if he would see her—made Nick’s week crawl by. He’d refrained from texting her, filled his time with work, the gym, dinner out with Dad one night, and going to bed as early as possible.
He didn’t sleep, just stared at the ceiling. Guilt sucked. Lauren’s picture on the nightstand, Quinn’s face in his thoughts.
Lauren wasn’t here anymore, and she was right. The time had come for him to move on. Quinn wasn’t ready, though. And he’d never push her.
Not to mention he’d only known her for three weeks and only seen her three times. He was buying supplies before designing the building.
Maybe he wasn’t ready either. But something about her...
Nick glanced in the rearview as he parked in front of the community center. His gut churned when Quinn pulled in and took a spot across the lot.
He waited for her behind his truck, lounging on his bumper and twirling his key on its ring. The rhythmic sound of a tennis game and the happy squeals of children at the splash pad played in the background.
She’d returned yet again—early.
She came around the back of her truck, tan arms crossed with a sweater draped over them, her clunky brown purse thrown over her shoulder. He caught her apprehensive look before she smiled it away. Maybe he shouldn’t have waited, but that would’ve been rude. Still, he needed to be careful.
“Hey, you’re early.”
She laughed a “hey, there” back and began a slow stroll to the building, her peach-colored spaghetti-strapped top matched the sandals flipping on her feet. “So I guess you had a pretty good week. You didn’t flood my phone with tears.”
He stuffed his key in his pocket, then lounged his hands in his back pockets as he joined her. How could talking to her be so easy? At least on his end. “If me asking for your number didn’t scare you away, texting you every day would have.”
Her ponytail brushed her shoulders as she shook her head. “I can’t believe I gave it to you.”
“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to give your number to strangers?”
“You like my painting.” She adjusted her purse straps on her shoulder. “You can’t be all bad. Besides, she was thrilled I’d given you my number.”
His head jerked in her direction. “You told her?”
She looked at him sideways, pausing on the sidewalk between the flower beds. “I can’t believe I did that either.” She rolled her eyes. “And Claire. Don’t get me started on her.”
He waved to Stan, who entered the building ahead of them. For Quinn’s sake, he hoped others didn’t misconstrue their time together. “I’m glad you have a great support group.”
“They’ve been incredible through this whole mess. They just... weren’t enough, you know?”
“I do know.”
A breeze teased loose tendrils of hair across her cheeks, and he fought the urge to brush them away.
“So your week?”
He dismissed the thought. “Yeah, my week was good. We’ve been busy, so I took plans home a few nights. Didn’t give me much time to think.” Liar. He’d thought about her quite a bit. “And, of course, you didn’t blow up my phone.”
She sniffed as she moved toward the door. “Give me time.”
He winked as he opened it for her. “I’ll be waiting.”
He would wait. If they were friends for years to come, somehow that would be a relief. If moving on didn’t include Quinn... Somehow, he couldn’t get his thoughts to go there.
They entered the counseling room, and others filed in after them. Charles—daughter. Beth—mother. Steve—wife. Nick knew them by their losses, but he wanted to know Quinn.
She took a seat on the far side of the room from Doc where she sat during her first session, her comfort zone, and slid her arms into her sweater. He took his seat next to Doc.
Doc started, let the conversation roll, interceded when professional advice was necessary, but let the group support one another.
A new woman sat next to Quinn and introduced herself. “I’m not sure this is for me.”
“I thought the same thing.” Nick perked up when Quinn angled her body toward the newcomer. “This is only my fourth session, but I can see the benefit of being here. I’m sure you will too.”
Her chin tucked down, Cheryl nodded and focused on her fidgeting hands. Nick caught Quinn’s eye, winked, and smiled. She smiled back, her face glowing a sweet shade of pink.
After the session, Cheryl ducked out like Quinn had on her first night. Purse thrown over her shoulder, Quinn watched her go.
He joined her as she meandered toward the door, her amber gaze flicking to his, stirring something in him. This time, her apprehension was absent, a part of the wall she’d built had crumbled. “Talking’s not so bad, is it?”
“It was a smidge scary.” She tucked wisps of hair behind her ears. “I saw myself in her. Do you think she’ll come back?”
He held open the counseling room door. “You did. Even after Mrs. LaRue.”
“And you.”
He followed her out, pressing his lips together. “Ouch.” Her giggle was amazing. “Speaking of which, do you want to hit the coffee shop?”
Quinn scrunched up her face and stopped. “Mmm, no.”
He halted beside her. Idiot! When would he learn?
“I was hoping we could visit over a plate of nachos at Ricardos. I had to work late, and I’m starving. You know, just as friends. No obligations, just... food?”
He stared open-mouthed. He hadn’t expected her to come back. Now she was cashing in rain checks and asking him to dinner.
She fiddled with her wedding ring, pulling her lower lip between her teeth the way she did when she got emotional in group. “Don’t duck and run.”
He smiled at the reference. “Not a chance. I’ve already eaten, but I’ll sit with you while you eat.”
Her eyes gleamed. “Great. I’ll eat. You’ll talk.”
“That is not the way this works.”
“But you’re so much better at it.”
“Practice makes perfect, Q. And let’s be clear.” They continued down the hall. “You’re the one who invited me.”
She glanced at him sideways through a wisp of hair with that quirky smile, and he had to laugh.
“Oh, there’s that lovely couple again.”
Nick cringed. When would Mrs. LaRue learn? They let her catch up, sharing a silent here-we-go-again look.
After bustling over, the woman patted his hand, then snagged Quinn’s, and greeted them. Shaking her hand, Quinn sang her greeting back, then added, “Nick and I were just going for a bite to eat. Would you care to join us?”
Surprised by Quinn’s gentle acceptance, Nick let his shoulders relax, his frustration easing. She’d come a long way.
“I wouldn’t dream of imposing on you two lovebirds.”
“Mrs. LaRue.” Taking a deep breath, he tried to be gentle as well. “It’s not like that. We’re just friends, and you’re more than welcome to come.”
Elbowing Quinn, Mrs. LaRue winked. “That’s what I told Harold. You two enjoy.” She shuffled out the door, leaving them both slack-jawed.
He dragged his gaze back to Quinn. “You know you’re wasting your breath on her, right?”
She shrugged. “A girl’s gotta try. Come on. I’ll drive.”
Wow. An invitation to dinner, and she was going to let him in her truck.
The changes in her were nothing short of miraculous. The true miracle being her accepting his friendship—and maybe not laying Mrs. LaRue out on the cold tile floor.
