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A little black dress full of memories. Quinn fought back the tears when she shook it out of the dry cleaners bag. She’d worn the sheath at a Christmas party she’d attended with Brendan. Had it been nine months ago?
She let the satin run through her hands as the memory of him at the black-tie event slinked through her mind, then almost slid it back into the bag. But she couldn’t buy a new dress, not when she couldn’t bring herself to go shopping. Claire, uber excited about the symphony, had volunteered to shop with her, of course. But Quinn would never buy another dress for anyone. This one would have to do.
She dove into the dress, wiggling it into place, then checked herself in the mirror. It fit a pinch looser than before, but still looked nice. Sleeveless, strapless, the midi skimmed her hips and cascaded to her ankle with a slit to her knee. Maybe it could be a little more... less.
What nonsense. She rolled her eyes. It wasn’t like she was trying to impress anyone. It was just a symphony.
With his family.
This was starting to sound like a date.
She threaded a freshwater pearl choker around her neck and fumbled with the clasp, nearly dropping them when the doorbell made her heart jump. Great. Grow up, Quinn.
She managed the clasp while striding to the door, her glittery Badgley Mischka’s tapping out a rhythm on the hardwood floor. Head still down as she double-checked the clasp, she opened the door, then straightened.
Whoa. Nick looked different with his fresh-trimmed hair, his thick locks styled in a sweep over. Not better, not worse. Just... different. Like a guy on a date. He shifted, tugging at one sleeve of his fitted dark-gray suit. A suit that did little to hide his muscles.
Stop staring, Quinn. “Wow. You clean up nice.”
“Thank you.” He blinked out of his own stare. “You look beautiful.”
She cleared her throat. “I’ll get my sweater.” The light in his blue eyes dimmed. Maybe she should’ve just accepted the compliment. They were just friends.
Why couldn’t he be the ugly friend?
She grimaced as she removed her sweater from the entry closet. Seriously, what had she been thinking accepting his invitation? She wasn’t ready. But it wasn’t a date. Just two people getting back out in the world.
Together.
She grabbed her matching clutch on the way out. Without offering a hand, he escorted her down the lit sidewalk to the passenger side of his truck. She shouldn’t have, but she imagined Brendan, with his hand at the small of her back, walking with her. “Caroline asked if we’d like to grab a bite to eat with them afterward. Is that okay with you?”
“Yeah. Sounds great.” Did it?
He opened her door, and she climbed in. As he made his way around to the driver’s side, she exhaled the breath she’d been holding. Being with him was one thing, they had their grief, but others? What would she talk about?
Before he put the key in the ignition, he rested his elbow on the console that was conveniently pulled down between them. It didn’t, however, keep his cologne from filling her senses. “Hey, this is just two friends going to the symphony.”
She nodded. “No obligations.”
He didn’t seem to think she believed him. “Did you ever have any guy friends in high school?”
“One or two.”
“Think of me as one of them.”
“I dated one of them.”
“Think of me as the other one.”
Laughter burst free, loosening the tension in every muscle. How did he always know how to make her laugh? He smiled that comforting smile.
They’d be nothing more than friends. And this was fine.
As he backed out of the driveway, she was breathing easier, the fear that prickled her skin buried deeper. Maybe she wouldn’t have to slap his face after all.
