Accidentally Aphrodite (Accidentals #10)

“Let’s not.” Please let’s not. She was still trying to do the right thing and the right thing was eating a hole in her heart.

“Why is Khristos gone then—which ironically happens to coincide with you trying to hide the fact that you’ve been crying? Don’t bother to deny it. Your eyeballs look like someone plucked them out of your head and stuffed them back in. What’s going on, Quinn?”

“Nothing’s going on.”

“It’s because Khristos left, isn’t it?”

“I told him to leave. It was time he got back to his life.”

“And why did you tell him to leave, Quinn? Because I don’t know if you were getting the signal, but he was pretty into you, and you were really feelin’ him.”

“Maybe you should be the Goddess of Love. Wanna bite my apple, little girl?” she joked to hide the dread in the pit of her stomach.

“I like human just fine, thank you. And you didn’t answer the question. Why did you tell him to leave?”

“It was all just too soon, Ingrid. I’m fresh off an ugly breakup with Igor, and even though we mended fences today, I learned a lot about myself making these matches and why I make the choices I make where men are concerned. I don’t want to make more wrong choices. Isn’t that the smart thing to do? No rebound relationships unless they’re wham-bams, was what you said. Just to help me get over the hump. Remember those words of wisdom?”

“He’s no wham-bam, Quinn, and you damn well know it.”

“I don’t even know his last name, Ingrid. Does he even have a last name? How does he sign his Christmas cards? Khristos Aphrodite? Khristos hyphen Goddess of Love’s Spawn?”

“That’s a reason to chase him out of your life?”

She didn’t respond. She couldn’t.

But Ingrid wasn’t letting go. “Still avoiding the question.”

“Because he has a life, too.”

“Nope. That’s not why you did it, Quinn. If you’re going to do all this reality, let’s do it right. You did it because you’re afraid you’re getting too carried away with your romantic expectations again.”

“How do you know?”

“My sleeping bag has ears. I was right out here on the floor last night. I know. You showed him your Cucamonga and he showed you his man-bits, and now you’re freaked out.”

God, she was smart. “So? What does that matter? It doesn’t change the fact that I’ve never gotten a single relationship right.”

“No. It says you’ve just picked the wrong men.”

Quinn remained silent. Wasn’t that the same thing?

“It also says you’ve gone too far the other side of reality. Come back before you miss something really great.”

“Before it was too much romance, not enough caution. Now it’s too much caution? Make up your mind,” she said on a groan.

“No. Now it’s just right, Quinn.”

“How can you know it’s just right? It’s too soon to tell. We just met each other, Ingrid. Things like that don’t happen overnight.”

Ingrid grabbed her hand and held it to her cheek. “Sometimes, they do. In the past, if anyone defended love at first sight, it would have been you, sitting on the bleachers, megaphone in hand. But if you can’t defend it right now, I will for you. Real love can happen in a glance or a touch or a week. You should know that after the matches you’ve made in the last few days. You’ve seen it. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Hey, Chatty Cathys, you two wanna go get ice cream?” Nina asked. “Marty and Wanda think it’d be fun to walk in the shitstorm out there and eat something cold when it’s twelve degrees out.”

“Need some quiet time?” Ingrid whispered in her ear.

“Please,” she whispered back, utterly miserable.

“I’m in,” Ingrid said, giving Quinn’s shoulder a squeeze before rising.

Nina nudged her with a knee. “I’m gonna be right outside with Carl. Right on the sidewalk. Promised I’d help him build a snowman. Fuck if I don’t regret buying him and Charlie Frozen. Anyway, you’re not alone. All ya gotta do is give a yell if you need me. And for the record, you should flippin’ listen to Ingrid and rethink this plan, Love Maker. It’s fucking stupid.” She reached down and chucked Quinn under the chin before gathering Carl and heading outside.

After everyone dropped a kiss on her forehead and shuffled out, silence fell over her apartment. She struggled to sit up, letting the gel-pack drop to the floor, her eyes sore from keeping the tears at bay.

Her line of sight fell on the sweater Khristos had left behind, his things in a neat pile by the side of the couch, and she ached.

Ached to see him, ached to talk to him. Ached.

Like someone had torn off a limb.