After our meal, I declined dessert and Kit paid the bill, even though I insisted on paying my share. He wouldn’t have it. He was a gentleman to the core. I was sure he’d find the girl he deserved, but as we approached the car, I quickly realized that girl wouldn’t be me.
We drove back to my apartment in comfortable silence, and when Kit took my hand, I didn’t object. We entered the lobby and walked down the hall to my apartment. When my eyes locked on the person standing outside of my apartment door, his hand raised to knock, my stomach sank.
Quinn turned just in time to see Kit and I approach hand-in-hand. A flurry of emotions passed over his face—confusion, realization, disbelief, and then anger. The way he looked at me scared me. I’d never seen Quinn like that before. It was chilling.
He walked down the hall to meet us, and I quickly dropped Kit’s hand. Quinn talked as he joined us, his words said slowly, carefully. “So, this is where you were tonight? On a date?” He shook his head and cursed. “Seriously, Mia?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out.
Kit cut in with, “I’m Kit. And you are?”
Quinn curled his lip at Kit and muttered a grating, “The guy she’s f—” I closed my eyes, praying for him not to finish that sentence. To my surprise, he amended his track of words, glaring at me all the while. “We’re seeing each other.”
Kit sounded surprised. “Mia, is this true?”
“No,” I said, but my voice shook. “It’s not true.” I turned to Quinn, seeing red. “Seeing each other implies there’s a plan to be
more
.”
No one spoke for a while.
Kit touched my arm, and I could see Quinn’s eyes narrow. “Maybe I should go, let you work this out with your…” he turned to face Quinn, “…friend.”
That was when Quinn spoke, his words hitting me hard. “No. I’m leaving.” He walked past us, shoved his hands into his pockets, and then turned back and smiled, cruelly. “Every trick in bed she knows because of me, buddy. Taught her myself.” My mouth parted in shock and my breath left me in a whoosh. I felt as though I would faint. Quinn turned and walked away, calling out, “You’re welcome.” Cruel, painful words from the man I loved. Our beautiful time together twisted into something filthy and lewd. Our friendship destroyed.
The door closed behind him, leaving me to stare in shock at his retreating back. My chest ached and I absently rubbed at the burn.
The moment he left, a gaping hole formed in the place my heart used to be.
Something told me I would never be the same.
Quinn
I needed to hit something, feel the pain radiate through my knuckles. Feel
something
.
Seeing Mia holding hands with another man, smiling after a date together, didn’t bode well. I knew the time would come, when she decided she deserved more, but I didn’t expect it so soon.
Walking into my kitchen, I opened the cabinet, pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels, and took a long pull from the bottle. My eyes shut tightly and I rubbed at my chest. I’d never felt like this before. I didn’t get jealous over women. Women got jealous over me. What the fuck was wrong with me?
My own words haunted me.
“Every trick in bed she knows because of me, buddy. Taught her myself. You’re welcome.”
I groaned, crushing the heel of my palms into my eyes. I was disgusted with myself, with the way I talked to her. I’d never had such a violent reaction to a woman before. It felt as though my insides were twisting into knots.
God, I was an asshole. Why the fuck did I say that? She would never forgive me. I wouldn’t forgive me.
I brought the bottle to my lips and, taking another swig, coughed at the heat streaking down my throat. I turned, put my back against the wall, and slid down to the cold, tiled floor. I stared into the wall for a long while.
I was pretty sure I had just ruined whatever chance I might’ve had with the only woman I ever loved.
My mind worked a mile a minute. I wasn’t sure how, but I was going to fix this. I had to. Mia was my everything, and I couldn’t live without her.
I would fix this.
I would.
Mia
Mom talked about how the nice man who owned the local grocery store had a heart attack the week before, leaving his children to run it for him. They were nice kids, she said, kids who cared about their parents.
It was a stab at Harry and me, I was sure. And when Harry’s eyes met mine, he rolled them hard. Still, it wasn’t enough to make me laugh. Nothing could’ve made me laugh. I was still sore from the previous night, at Quinn’s hurtful words.
Mom wasn’t happy we only came to visit her once a week. “See,” she uttered, picking at the salad by her lasagna, “those kids know they only have so long with their parents. They know they have a duty to them,” she said in way of a guilt trip.
My heart started to pound. Mom didn’t even know what she was getting herself into.
“To go on leave from their own jobs and take care of the family business...those kids must really love their parents.”
Harry cut in. “We love you, Mom.” He grinned. “I’d take over the family business for you.” He picked at his lasagna, happy with himself. “If we had one.”
Mom shrugged then sighed. “You don’t even visit anymore. I guess my kids are just too busy for me.”
That was it. I stood so fast that my chair made a harsh whining noise, almost falling back. “Thanks for dinner, Mom. I’ve got to get going.”
“Mia,” she called out, stunned at my sudden departure. This behavior was not like me. Not like me at all. But I was hurting, badly, and I didn’t have time for an insecure woman’s hang-ups.
I walked a short distance then turned, glaring at my mom. “Fuck it.”
She gasped. “Mia! What has gotten into you?”
I took a calming breath then started, “You know why those kids like their parents, Ma?” I uttered pointedly, “Because they’re
likable
.” She blinked at me. I went on, “If I had a parent like that, chances are I’d be more likely to hang around. But unfortunately for Harry and me, you are what we are stuck with.”
Harry’s mouth gaped.
I was on a role and nothing could stop me. I looked at her with sadness in my eyes. “Something tells me that Mr. Sullivan wouldn’t make his children feel like failures for their accomplishments.” I barked out a laugh. “Harry works in an office he hates. And he did it, because you told him working in a bar was unacceptable, Ma. You know what you told him the week after starting the job you wanted him to have?” I looked at my brother. “You told him the hours were too long and he’d never find a girlfriend that way.” I smiled at him, although it trembled. “He did something awesome, and it still wasn’t good enough.”
Mom watched me closely, her face pink.
“I went to college to get a fancy degree, and you know what I did when I came home with it?” I shook my head. “I gave it to you. I had the stupid diploma framed and gave it to
you
. You know why? Because
you
wanted it.” My voice cracked. “Well, I got it for you, Mom. And you know what I got in return?” My eyes filled with tears of frustration. “I got a lecture on how expensive college was and that I’d better make use of those skills to make my money’s worth.” A fat teardrop fell onto my cheek. “You never even told me you were proud of me. You didn’t come to my graduation. You never even said congratulations.”
My mother’s eyes filled with tears. Emotionally, I was done.
“With every achievement, you sabotage our happiness by bringing us down. You know what you’ve taught me?” I closed my eyes, ashamed of admitting this. “To aim low. Because we aren’t worth more.” Then I stood taller. “But you know what?” I looked to my brother, who had dipped his chin, hiding his face. “Harry is worth more.” I pointed to my chest. “I am worth more.” My lips quivered. “And sometimes, Ma,”—the bridge of my nose tingled—“you are a shitty mother.”
Without another word, I turned on my heel and left my mother’s house, feeling worse than what I had when I arrived.
My apartment door had someone banging on it. I should have answered it. Instead, I stayed in bed and hid under the covers.
Whoever it was gave up, and I was thankful for the silence.
It took time, but I finally fell asleep, tears staining my pillow.
Quinn called the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that.
My phone was blowing up with missed calls and text messages. All of which I ignored.
There was nothing I wanted to say to him, but his messages were breaking my heart.
Quinn: I’m the world’s biggest asshole. Please answer the phone, Mia.
Quinn: Baby, please. I’m so sorry. I know you don’t want to talk to me and I get it, but please give me a minute to apologize.
Quinn: I feel like shit. I hate what I said and I didn’t mean it. I don’t even know why I said it. I hate myself probably as much as you hate me right now. But I’ll say it again. I’m so sorry, Mia. So sorry.
Quinn: Please, Mia. Talk to me.
Quinn: Okay, I get the message. I’ll stop, for now.
Then finally, the one message that cut me deeper than the others.
Quinn: I was jealous.
What was I meant to do with that? Was that Quinn admitting that he felt more for me? Or was that Quinn admitting he didn’t like people playing with his toys?
I didn’t know what to think, so I did what I did best. I pretended I was okay.
Harry came to my apartment the day after the Mom incident. I answered the door and slumped, ashamed of myself. “Hey.”
With his hands in his pockets, he attempted to smile. “Hey. Can I come in?”
I pushed the door open and stepped aside. “Soda?”
“Yeah.” I went to the fridge, got us both a diet soda, and sat on my beanbag. Harry sipped his drink, searched my face, and then asked what he was obviously dying to. “The other night with Mom…where did that come from?”
I shrugged. “Years of brewing, I suppose.” Then I added quietly, “When you bite your tongue, it builds up, you know? It’s like I didn’t have a choice, Har. It just spewed out.” His lip twitched. I asked, “How’s Mom?”
He blew out a breath. “Sad.” Shit. My chest ached with the tidbit. Harry added, “But I think she needed to hear it, and although I wouldn’t have done it in quite a loud and dramatic way, I think you did good.”
I was not expecting him to say that. My throat thickened. “You don’t think it was harsh?”
He nodded. “Hell yeah, it was harsh, but it was all true, and sometimes the truth hurts.”
I swallowed hard, looking down at my feet.
“What’s wrong, Mia?” Harry asked before adding quietly, “Someone took your smile.”
That was all I could handle. I dipped my chin, crumbling as my shoulders shook in silent sobs. Lifting a hand, I swiped at my eyes. “I’ve had a bad week.”
Harry made his way over, took my hand, and hauled me into his arms, hugging me tightly. “Minnie.” I rested my head on his shoulder and sobbed. “You just cry it out. Cry that sadness away.”
A few minutes of crying and I felt like talking about it. Pulling back, I reached for the tissue box. “Thanks for that.”
“It’s okay. You know, I don’t think I’ve seen you cry like that since Mark Wayne cut off one of your braids in seventh grade, which makes me think there’s a little more to this.”
He always knew when something was wrong with me. This was Harry. I could talk to him about anything. Couldn’t I? I tested the water to see if it would get weird. “You’re right.” I sighed, wiping my eyes with a tissue. “There’s this guy…”
His shoulders tensed and he gritted his teeth. “Wait, what guy? Who? Did he hurt you?”
I shook my head. “No. Well, yes, but not in the way you’re thinking.” I did my best to explain it. “I really liked him, Harry, and I think he liked me too. But he told me he wasn’t looking for a relationship. I went on a date the other night, and he was waiting for me when I got home. I think he just wanted to see me, and he did.” I winced. “Coming home from my date.
With
my date.”
I thought about Kit and how wonderful he was when I called to tell him I wasn’t ready to date again. He took it in good grace and offered me his friendship. He was a genuinely nice guy and I wished him all the best.
Harry looked uncomfortable, but not enough to stop me from continuing.
“He said some awful things, Harry.
Mean
things. Things said to inflict hurt. Things that I don’t think I can forgive. He keeps apologizing and saying he didn’t mean what he said, but I don’t know.”
Harry nodded slowly, processing what I’d just told him. “Sometimes men can be really stupid, Mia. It sounds to me like this guy saw you with another man and realized he was losing you, and he got angry about it. He probably said some things out of anger, and things said out of anger are designed to hurt. I’ve done it. Haven’t you ever said something you wish you could take back?”
Yes, I had. I’d done it just the other night with my mom. “Yes,” I whispered.
Harry smiled. “They say you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone, and it seems this guy of yours panicked. He reacted badly. Let me ask you this. Was him acting that way out of character?”
My response was immediate. “Yes, completely. I was shocked…and disappointed.”
“And you like him?”
My eyes filled with tears and I choked out, “I’m in love with him.”
My brother smiled at my declaration. “I’ve not seen you make a bad decision in your life, Mia. You’ve always had a good head on your shoulders. I think you should trust your gut. What does it tell you?”
“It tells me to forgive him. But not right away.”
Harry tipped his head back and laughed. “Okay, so let him stew for a while.” He stood, lifted a hand, and squeezed my shoulder. “As a man, I can tell you that we can be real idiots, but we’re not all bad. If you’ve found someone who you think is right for you, I’ll trust your judgment.” He walked to the door and I followed him. He stepped outside and we said our goodbyes. Just as I went to close the door, he called out, “Mia.” I looked over at him. He uttered a sincere, “I hope you work it out with your guy.”
I smiled at him and closed the door, leaning back against it.
Me too, Harry. Me too.
The next morning, I woke, showered, got ready for work, and stepped outside my apartment.
And almost smooshed the white box directly in front of my door.
I frowned at it, picked it up, and then brought it inside. Lifting the lid of the box, my eyes widened at the message frosted on the red velvet cake.
Sorry I was a dickhead.
Underneath the message was a vanilla-frosted cartoon-like penis. I couldn’t help but smile. Shaking my head, I chuckled lightly. Lifting my phone of out my pocket, I sent a text.
Me: You think you can win me over with cake?
His response came a minute later.
Quinn: No. Definitely not.
Then,
Quinn: Unless if it worked. Then yes.
A smile stretched at my cheeks.
Me: Well, it didn’t.
Quinn: But you’re talking to me. That’s more than I could have hoped for right now.
My smile waned.
Me: I’m not ready to forgive you.
His response was delayed.
Quinn: Okay, Mia. And I know you’re sick of hearing it, but I need to say it one more time. I am so sorry for what I said to your date. I’m sorry I hurt you. If I could take it all back, I would. I miss you, and I miss your laugh. I never want to see you look at me the way you did that night. It will haunt me for the rest of my life.
A moment later came,
Quinn: I’m not letting you go. I’ll fight my corner. You deserve for someone to fight for you.
It was too much. I turned off my phone, left it at home, and went to work.