| |
The door opened yet again, and again, it wasn’t Quinn. Having arrived at the center at his usual time, Nick was finding the small talk difficult. It was like getting behind someone doing forty-five in a sixty-five no-passing zone.
Mrs. LaRue had a new couple cornered, and he was stuck listening to Gerald’s sad story for the fifth time. Well, maybe it was the second time, and he should be more compassionate. But he had too much on his mind, like telling the woman who refused to love, he loved her.
Maybe he’d give up counseling.
He hid his twitch by turning to see the next person walking through the door. Not Quinn. Gerald continued his story. Nick continued trying to listen.
Not coming here every Monday night was a foreign concept. He didn’t need counseling anymore. Now he was here to see Quinn. Helping her felt good. Being needed by her felt better.
And he needed her.
But if she didn’t come back or she wanted him gone...
Dr. Holiday unlocked the meeting room door. They all filed in and took their seats.
Nick tried not to look too disconcerted as the door clicked shut. He hadn’t spoken to Quinn since Saturday. Maybe she’d had enough awkward.
The door shut, and he placed his attention on the group, gritting his teeth. He’d done it this time. Not Mrs. LaRue, him.
Then the door opened. Quinn rushed in with a shrug and a smile in his direction, whispered an apology, and took her seat. Both relieved and lightheaded, he blew out his pent-up breath. Unclenching his fists and crossing his ankle over his knee, he acted nonchalant, but his stomach turned flips like he might lose his dinner.
He caught her eye and winked. Maybe he shouldn’t have. He winked at her all the time, but after he’d asked her out, she might take it wrong.
But it was right.
Great. Something else to worry about.
The session’s end couldn’t have come quick enough. Before he could make his way to Quinn, Doc caught him up in a discussion.
He divided his attention, keeping one eye on her and half his brain in the conversation. She had to walk by him to get to the door, so he positioned himself in her way. As she walked by, he put his hand on her arm while he finished talking to Doc. Thank God she didn’t pull away.
When Doc was on to his next client, Nick accompanied her out of the room. “I wanted to apologize again.”
Outside the room, she stopped as people passed. “Nick, it’s fine. I’m fine. It’s no big deal.”
“It is a big deal. It was out of line. I didn’t mean it.” He did. But if a lie meant they could stay friends, he’d tell several. God forgave good intentions, right?
She opened her mouth and focused beyond him. Then seemed to change her mind about what she was going to say. “Of course, you didn’t. I’m sure you just wanted ice cream.”
That was not all he wanted. But her deflated look... Relief or disappointment? “We don’t have to do anything tonight if you don’t want to.”
She sucked her purse in tight like a lifeline, ducked her head, and tucked her hair behind her ear. And there it was—the wall. The thick space between them securing it in place. “Maybe we could just meet up next week. I need to help Claire with some things at her house.”
Next week. Not tomorrow, but seven days. “Of course. The baby’ll be here soon.”
Her smile took his breath. “I’m not going to lie—I’m kind of excited.” They began a slow trek to the glass doors, his hands stuck firm in his pockets, hers secured around her purse straps.
“I’m excited for you. And for Claire.”
“Thanks. And I gave my two-week notice today.”
“You quit your job?” He couldn’t help the disappointment that crawled under his skin. She hadn’t discussed it with him—not that she needed to—but they were friends. Weren’t they?
“Yeah. I’ll hang out at the house, help Claire with the baby. Not too much. I don’t want her to think I’m stalking her child.”
“I’m sure Claire wouldn’t think that.” He tried to meet her gaze, but she wouldn’t look at him. “Are you going to start painting again?”
“I don’t know. We’ll just have to see how things go.”
Not “I,” but “we.” A glimmer of hope skimmed across his heart. “I guess we will.”
They paused at the door, Quinn reaching for the push bar. It was their shortest and worst awkward moment. “So, I’ll see you next week.”
“I’ll be here.” Guess he wouldn’t quit just yet. He tried to sound as normal as possible. “Let me know if anything happens with Claire before then.”
She drew in a breath to speak, then exhaled the thought away, pushed the door open, and called behind her as she went. “Absolutely. I’ll call.”
All he could do was watch her go, his words of truth hanging by his heartstrings. Her leaving felt real, permanent. Like she’d disconnected from him.
“You should tell her.”
Nick’s hands jerked, and his shoulders twitched. Mrs. LaRue stood beside him, her bright poppy-print blouse matching her lipstick. “Tell her what, Mrs. LaRue?”
“You love her.”
Nick sighed and began to tell the truth he never wanted to believe. “Mrs. LaRue...”
She waved a hand. “Oh, I know. You’re just friends. Only... you’re not.”
LaRue the Wise with the blood-red lipstick sounded like someone else he knew. Crossing his arms, he turned from the door. “We’re not?”
“If only you could see what I see.”
“And what do you see?” Maybe that sounded rude, but he did want to know.
“I see me and Howard dancing the same dance.” Pleading brown eyes blinked up at him beneath that tight cap of curls, her head cocked like a red-breasted—or lip-sticked—robin. “Tell her, Nick.”
There was no denying it. He blew out a breath and focused beyond her. “Josh said the same thing.”
“A friend of yours?”
Maybe not now. Nick laughed to himself, remembering Quinn’s comment about Claire.
“He sounds like a smart man. You should take his advice if you won’t take mine.”
He peered out the glass door. “What good would it do?”
Mrs. LaRue put her hands on his crossed arms, her rings ice against his skin. “It took me a while to say yes to Howard. She wants to say yes, and you want her to say yes. That is what I see. Tell her.”
She patted his arm and shuffled out the door as he held it open for her.
Maybe he should, but wouldn’t that be like renovating a building and then tearing it down? It didn’t make sense.
No. He’d give her space. He wouldn’t call or text. Claire’s baby was coming, and she was important to Quinn. Dealing with relationship issues in a nonrelationship would only overshadow that happiness.
He pushed open the heavy glass door, perhaps shoving too hard, stepped out into the cool May air, and contemplated how he’d spend his free evening.
It will all work out. Lauren’s voice, Quinn’s face.
Good thing the gym was open twenty-four seven. With a play on Lauren’s words, he could do at least one thing she wanted him to. He jerked open his truck door and climbed inside. Throwing it in gear, he headed home to change clothes.
