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Quinn’s boss gave her the whole day off. A relief because her body wouldn’t drag her any farther than her bed. For the first time in ages, she cried herself to sleep.
Around two o’clock she awoke, her body dense and heavy. Her head swam with the morning’s events. The beautiful sunrise. The exceptional kiss. The cowardly escape.
Had she truly left with no other explanation than “I can’t?”
She’d made him believe being together possible. Led him on, invited him in—and stabbed him in the back. What kind of friend did that?
One who needed to be admitted.
His lips were as soft as they looked. She touched her fingers to her mouth, still not believing he’d kissed her.
But she’d kissed him back, and a big part of her wanted to kiss him again. With all their near misses, it had been only a matter of time before it happened. But this wasn’t a near miss. This happened because two people cared for each other. And didn’t she want that?
Sighing, she sat up on the edge of her bed. She had to let go of the lie.
She glared at her phone through half-open eyes. No texts, no missed calls. Where was he?
With a grimace, she headed for the bathroom. A shower and some clean clothes would do her good.
Maybe after a day or two to think things over, they could go on like normal. She stopped brushing her hair midstroke. She and Nick couldn’t be friends. Too much filled the space between them now. And no matter how hard she’d tried, maybe it always had.
Her exhausted face looked back at her from the mirror. She was tired of running, tired of lying, tired of holding back. She didn’t want to be scared. So how did she overcome fear?
She snorted a laugh. She’d go see her bestie and cuddle her new baby—that’s how. She peeled off the clothes she’d worn for a day and a half, showered, and donned clean jeans and a loose tee. Sweater in hand, she headed to the hospital.
She found Claire and Kaitlyn lying in bed, Claire cooing at her newborn daughter. There had been a day, forever ago, when Quinn and Brendan stared into the face of their own daughter, afraid to look away. Afraid any minute she’d be gone.
And then she was.
Nick had that same look when she’d left. Her guts twisted.
“Look who it is—Auntie Q.”
The stab to her heart pulled her from her thoughts. “Where’s Dillon?”
“He went to get us some extra things.” Claire nuzzled Kaitlyn. “We weren’t planning on staying this long, were we?”
Stealing the angel, Quinn swept the baby into her arms. She brushed her fingers over Kaitlyn’s tiny features, held her hand, and kissed her fingers. She sniffed as a tear wobbled on the edge of her eye.
Claire laid her hand on Quinn’s arm. “Quinn, is this too much?”
“Kaitlyn? No. She’s perfect.”
“If not Hope, then it must be Nick.”
Love and babies. How did Claire know? “I’m okay.”
“I’ve known you for forever. You are not okay.”
Quinn pursed her lips and breathed in the sweet baby scent.
Claire adjusted her position, struggling to come closer. “Quinn?”
Oh, just get it over with. She’d find out sooner or later. “Nick kissed me.”
Claire sucked in an excited breath and let it out as fast, her smile dropping. “And?”
Her lip snagged between her teeth, Quinn rocked Kaitlyn back and forth. “And I kissed him back.”
Claire started to smile, but Quinn’s dejection must’ve deterred her glee. “Then what?”
“I left.” She rolled her eyes. “I ran.”
She surrendered the angel to her mother’s side, plopped into the chair next to the bed, and propped her arms next to Kaitlyn, playing with her little feet sticking out from under the pink blanket. “I wanted to stay.”
“Oh, Quinn, honey. Why didn’t you?”
“I’m so scared.”
“Of losing him?”
Her head bobbled as if she couldn’t bring herself to nod. “It’s silly, really. Without him, I’ve lost already.”
Claire brushed a wisp of Quinn’s hair away from her hot, damp cheek. “And I didn’t have to say a word.”
Quinn barked a laugh. “Nope. I figured this one out all by myself.”
“Have you called him?”
The thought made Quinn’s stomach burn. Was there anything she could say to him to make it better? “He wouldn’t want to talk to me. Oh, Claire, if you’d seen the hurt in his face.”
Claire clasped her hand and shook it until Quinn raised her head. “All the more reason to call him.”
“Maybe I should give him a couple of days.”
“And maybe you should call him.”
Quinn dragged her gaze to the window. Puffy white clouds still hung in the blue. The memory of red and orange still hung in her mind. She could still feel his warmth, his lips on hers. She glanced back down at the sleeping bundle. “He hasn’t called me either.”
“You’re the one who ran. He’s giving you space.”
Quinn tilted her head at her dearest friend in the world. “How is it you always know what I need?”
“It’s easy to see when you’re on the outside looking in. Remember Alex Vaughan?” She pretended to gag.
Quinn wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. How could I forget?”
“I couldn’t see what a jerk he was. But you could. You saved me from a bad mistake.” Claire pushed Quinn’s hair off her shoulder. “Let me save you from a bad mistake. Call him.”
Where would she be without Claire? “I owe you so much.”
“Well, you could offer free babysitting.”
“You’ve got it.”
She stayed and visited until Dillon returned with a bag of necessities. Then she left them to enjoy their new little family. Her stomach grumbled. She hadn’t eaten since the night before, so she went in search of food, grateful Mom had begged off their Tuesday dinner after the exhaustion of last night.
The white bread, ham, and cheese from the hospital cafeteria sat on her stomach like a boulder as she made her way back to her truck. Even with her body lethargic, she didn’t want to go home. All these feelings needed somewhere to go.
Feelings. They’d started coming back that night at the river with Nick. The sunset had been the most colorful she’d seen since watching them with Brendan. Because of Nick. He’d been so good to her, even while mourning his loss. She stopped at her truck door and pressed her forehead against the driver’s side window.
Her day began with the sunrise from his apartment building. He’d started something beautiful between them. And she’d ruined it—possibly ruined everything. Ending the day with the sunset over the river might help her think things through. She’d call him tomorrow. Of course, the big-girl thing would be to knock on his door tonight.
She climbed into her truck. Her rolling stomach reminded her again of the awful sandwich she’d shoved down her throat. Hair held back with one hand, she rested her elbows on the steering wheel. The big-girl thing would have to wait until tomorrow. If she faced him now, she’d puke on his shoes. And his shoes were the expensive kind you didn’t want to puke on.
She was making excuses. Facing him was inevitable. But perhaps they both needed rest and time to think. She’d go to the river tonight. He had a lot to forgive. Maybe he’d be gracious enough to forgive her for waiting one more day.
