“Am I interrupting something?” Quin says behind us.
I look over my shoulder and see him sitting on the white leather couch, hands in front of him, leaning forward with legs slightly open, looking at me like… well, not quite like he used to.
We are a long way from where Bric thought we’d be today.
His suit is dark blue, his tie and pocket square are light gray, and his shirt is crisp white. He didn’t shave this morning, so his face has just enough stubble to make him sexy, but not enough to make him unkempt.
His blue eyes track to my legs when I turn. I am wearing underwear—stupid Bric. But that’s it. “This is what I wear to bed,” I reply by way of explanation.
“I didn’t say anything,” Quin says, almost smiling.
“I know. But you were thinking it.”
We sigh together, thinking of all the ways we know each other intimately. And all the ways we are strangers now.
“Is it a bad time, Rochelle?” Quin asks. “We can leave.”
“No,” Bric says, pressing into me a little. He’s warm, and big, and overbearing.
“She needs a nap,” I say, still looking at Quin.
“Here,” Bric says, reaching for Adley. “I got this.”
Quin covers his mouth with his hand to hide a laugh. I’m not amused. “Forget it, Bric. You’ll never get her to sleep. She’s awake now. And she’s probably hungry.”
“I can feed her. Where’s that bottle warmer thingy?”
“Bottle warmer thing? Since when are you an expert in feeding babies?” Quin asks.
“I looked it up online. Come on, I’ll take her so you two can work this out.”
“Work what out?” I ask.
“It’s just an expression,” Bric says. “You people are so literal today.” He reaches for Adley like this is a done deal. I hand her over, more out of surprise than anything else, and Elias Bricman—the man who hates children and doesn’t even try to hide it—cuddles her and walks off towards the bottle warmer I have set up by the small fridge in the dining room. “Where do you keep the… milk or whatever?”
Quin is looking at me the whole time. Wondering something.
I hope he’s not wondering why he’s even bothering with me.
The bottles for the day are all filled and ready, neatly lined up inside the fridge. I get one out, put it in the warmer, and press the start button.
“What does your mommy do all day, Adley? Hmmm?” Bric is talking to my daughter like he’s known her forever. “Mope?” he asks, looking up at me to smile. He sways a little, like he knows just what to do with a baby. “Pine for Quin and me?” He looks over at Quin for that one. “Does she miss us?” The warmer dings, but before I can grab the bottle, Bric has it in hand. “Just plug it into her mouth, right?” Bric asks, walking off towards the bedroom down the hall. “I got this.”
“Who is he?” I ask, watching him disappear.
“I have no idea,” Quin says.
When I turn to Quin, he’s leaning back into the couch cushions, both his arms spread along the top, one foot propped up on one knee. They always need to be in control. He was off his game a little yesterday but he’s got it back now.
“So,” Quin says, looking up at me with those piercing blue eyes. “You’ve got something to say to me?”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“I know, you said that already. That’s it?” he asks, looking like he’s ready to get the fuck out of here.
I take a deep breath as I cross the living room. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and stop to frown. “Jesus Christ. I look like shit.” My hair is a mess. I look like I just crawled out of bed, when really, I’ve been up for hours. I’m pale, even though I still have a tan from being outside in the hot springs almost every day for months. And there is no way to hide the dark circles under my eyes. I was up all night thinking about how my life just changed. I had just barely fallen asleep when my phone rang this morning. And then Adley wanted to wake up after that.
“Rochelle,” Quin says, making me look back at him. “Do you have something to say to me or not?”
I nod my head slowly as I walk over to the couch and kneel down on the cushion, facing him. “I loved you.”
“So that’s why you left?”
“No,” I say. “I left because I got the impression… you… liked the way things were, I guess. You were comfortable.”
“And you weren’t? You wanted more?”
“I was pregnant, Quin.” I’m starting to get angry. “I felt very alone. And you and I both know that if I kept the baby and tried to stay, Bric would have none of it.”
We both look towards the hallway. He’s talking to the baby in there in a low voice. Not even spying on us.
“Maybe,” Quin says. “But”—he waves his hand at the soft words coming from the bedroom—“maybe not.”
“Things are like this now because you’ve had time to think about it. But if I had sprung it on you back then, it would’ve been different. Everything would’ve been different. You know as well as I do that Bric was not about to give up his fun for me.”
“You didn’t need him, Rochelle. You had me.”
“I had you with him,” I say. “We weren’t a couple, we were pretending. We were a trio. And then I went and fucked up and ruined it. So I’m sorry for that too. I didn’t want to ruin it. I wanted more with you, but I was happy with the way things were.”
Quin stares at me for a few seconds. Like he’s trying to decide if he accepts that answer. “And you’re just as happy now that it’s over?” he finally asks.
“I’m… OK.” I say. “Happy, yes, in lots of ways. But I miss you. I miss what we had.”
“Me and you?” Quin asks. “Or the three of us?”
“Both. I miss all of us. Well,” I amend, “I don’t miss Smith at all.”
Quin smiles a little and looks away. “He’s out of the game, anyway.”
“So you’re still playing? You have a girl?”
“No,” Quin says. “I quit the Club a long time ago. Yesterday was actually the first time I talked to Bric in a while. Six months, almost.”
“You’re mad at him?” I ask.
“Was,” Quin says, looking back at me.
God, he’s handsome. Quin is the all-American man. Light hair, light eyes. Tall muscular body. And he’s even a nice guy. He’s got manners and he’s educated. Polite and friendly with almost everyone. I don’t know much about his family, other than his dad died before we met. He never talked about them to me at all, but I never got the impression he hates them. Which is… unusual, from my perspective.
“But now that you’re here…” He sighs. “And you didn’t have an abortion—”
“Who told you I had an abortion?”
“Bric. Well, Chella.” Quin shakes his head. “It’s a long, stupid misunderstanding.”
“And you’re ready to be friends with him again?”