Love in Slow Motion

11. Quinn

11 QUINN

Chase and I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling in the dark. Neither of us have said anything or even really moved since we got in bed, shoulder-to-shoulder. I can hear him breathing.

Finally, when I can bring myself to speak, I say, “I’m sorry about Madison.”

When he found me near the bathrooms, neither of us could find the words to say. Yes, I feel bad for him, but I also feel bad for myself, and I could see on his face that he was frustrated that I was so upset. That’s Chase. Everyone has to earn their right to everything except him. He just gets what he wants, no matter what.

But I know this isn’t what he wanted. Chase might be a jackass, but I know he would trade every cent his mother has ever made to undo what we just found out tonight.

“She’s going to be okay,” he says up at the ceiling. “She has to be.”

I find a certain comfort in the timbre of his voice. So familiar. How many times did we lay just like this in our bed back in Boston, talking about stuff that happened during the day, making arrangements for who would take care of what things the following day—grocery shopping, gassing up cars, sending texts to mutual friends about some social event or another.

“She will be,” I whisper, but I don’t know if I believe it. When we got back to the table, Madison and Sabrina explained it all to us: the chemo treatments, the stages, the likelihoods and percentages. And according to it all, Madison is going to make a full recovery, look back on this years in the future and know that it was just one more challenge in her life that she bested. But that doesn’t make any of it easier, because I know how fast life can steal someone away from you, and there’s nothing keeping it from taking Madison now.

The silence resettles and then Chase shifts, and his hand brushes mine. At first, I think it’s an accident, but then he shifts again and his fingers attempt to curl around mine.

I rip my hand away and push the covers off me, sitting up on the edge of the bed. The floor is cold under my feet, and it’s exactly what I need to force myself to stand. I was waiting for the house to be asleep for a while before I moved to the basement, but if I don’t get out now, I might fall apart.

I stand and turn back to the bed. Chase hasn’t moved, his body still prone, the blankets on his side of the bed undisturbed. “Look, I’m truly sorry about Madison. I know that your family is about to go through a lot of stress and hardship. But I can’t be there to comfort you. We’re not married anymore. I’m not part of this family anymore.” My voice shakes when I say it. Because I want to be part of this family. These people, Madison and Sabrina and Reed, they mean something to me. I want to be here with Madison while she goes through this thing that is going to be so traumatic for this family.

But I can’t. It’s over.

I reach for the door, and Chase finally sits up, finally speaks. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to sleep on the couch.”

He frowns. “Someone will see you.” Same argument he used this morning, now with more desperation.

“The couch in the basement,” I specify. I wasn’t planning on sharing that part of it, but I get the feeling it’ll quell some of his fear.

His frown was nervous before but it quickly becomes something else, maybe angry. “Down there with Reed?”

Anger spikes through me, manifesting in a flush that crawls up my neck. “There will be a door between us,” I growl, “and unlike you, Reed knows how to keep his hands to himself.” I yank the door open, step into the hallway, and quietly shut it behind me, even though I want to slam it closed. I don’t know why I said that. Surely, Chase wasn’t worried about whether or not Reed could control himself. He can’t possibly think anything would happen between us.

I wait for a moment, listening for anyone still up. Down the hall, I can hear Sabrina talking to someone in her room, the shift of her walking around, like maybe she’s pacing. Maybe a video call with one of her friends, since there’s no way she has cell service. Her voice is low, her words muffled enough that I can’t make them out. Lydia’s room is silent.

I move carefully through the house, around the kitchen to the stairs leading to the basement. I’m not really sure what to expect. It’s not like Reed and I had a conversation about where I would sleep for the rest of the trip. But I know I’m not sleeping next to Chase, even if that means I have to sleep in my car.

When I hear noise down in the basement, I stop. What if it’s not just Reed down there? What if Madison is down there for some reason? How would I explain to her why I was sneaking out of my room and into Reed’s space?

I wait for a second, not sure if I should turn around or take my chances, but then Reed’s voice travels softly up the stairs. “You coming down, Quinn?”

I guess I didn’t really know until that moment how much I was relying on the solace of the basement to get me through. A relieved sigh rushes out of me and my shoulders sink. I move down the stairs and find Reed standing in the basement kitchen, drinking something out of a coffee mug. When he sees me, he leans back against the stainless-steel fridge and sticks one hand in the pocket of his gray sweatpants. He hasn’t turned on any of the lights, so only the moonlight through those high prison windows guides my feet across the basement to the kitchen.

“I hope that’s decaf.” I lean against the kitchen island, feeling…I don’t even know what. I guess I thought it would be weird if I asked Reed if I could sleep down here for the duration of the trip. I mean, who does that? Who stays with their brother-in-law (still, I guess) instead of just sucking it up and sleeping in the same bed as their soon-to-be ex-husband?

But well…it isn’t weird. It never has been with me and Reed. And maybe that’s because he doesn’t remember that first night that we met. But I think it’s because Reed is so easy to be around. He’s never asked anything of me and has always offered me kindness in return.

It’s going to hurt to leave that behind.

“It’s bourbon, actually. Want some?”

A laugh bubbles out of me. “Sure.”

He pulls another mug out of the cabinet over his shoulder and pours me a healthy serving. I’ve never been one for straight liquor, but desperate times and all that…

I take a long pull, coughing a little around the burn in my throat. I wait a second and then gulp down half the glass. I’m going to need a lot more than this to get through this week. Maybe if I was drunk off my ass the whole time, that would be enough.

“Whoa, there. Not too fast. You’re going to get dizzy.”

Maybe I want to be dizzy, I think as I gulp some more. All that’s left is a golden ring at the bottom of the mug.

“He tried to hold my hand.” The words burst out of me, mostly because, out here in the middle of nowhere, I have nobody to talk to. There’s basically no cell reception and Madison’s whole no-wifi thing. However, there is a guy I’ve been friends with for five years, even if he’s the immediate family of the person causing me so much discomfort.

Reed’s eyebrows raise over the lip of his mug. When he pulls it away, he says, “Seriously?”

I slam my mug down on the counter, feeling encouraged by his reaction and emboldened by the warmth that the whiskey has put in my stomach. “I know he’s going through something right now, but does he really think I’m here in any way, shape, or form to help him ? I came here because it turns out that owning a house in Boston is fucking expensive when you don’t have a husband who earns six figures. Because I…”

I cover my face with my hands and take a deep breath before dropping them again. Reed stays firmly on his side of the kitchen, not offering me comfort this time, just his presence. “I’m not qualified for any jobs. I graduated with a Bachelor’s degree and then basically spent three years doing nothing because Chase thought it would be hot to have a stay-at-home wife, when what he really wanted was a wife who looked the other way while he went out and fucked other people. I’ve been trying to get a job for three months, and I can barely even get an interview. And when I do get an interview, they discover that I’m a miserable wretch and don’t want to hire me.”

“Hey.” His voice is a vicious bark and that startles me out of my rant. I’m surprised at the angry lines on his face. “That’s my friend you’re talking about. I’m not going to let you call yourself names. You’re not a miserable wretch. You’re an incredible woman who put up with a lot of bullshit. You’ll find a job. Of course you will.”

A knob forms in my throat, and I swallow hard. Have I ever been called an incredible woman in my entire life? I shake his words off, but that makes my head go fuzzy. I anticipate that I have about ten minutes before all that bourbon goes sour and I can’t stand up straight.

“Could I tell you something?” His voice is soft, almost like he’s hoping I won’t hear him.

“Of course.”

“I lost the restaurant.”

His words are gibberish at first, my hazy brain trying to put them in the right order, the right context, to make sense. And then I remember Aeronaut, Reed’s downtown Boston restaurant, the one he sunk every penny to his name into as soon as he graduated. The last time I was there, a year ago, it was a hot spot, the place to be.

“I don’t understand,” I sputter, my tongue starting to feel useless in my mouth. “What do you mean, you lost it?”

He sighs, leaning back on his palms, resting on the marble countertop. “I mean that Oscar, my business partner, got himself into some financial trouble. He put the place up as collateral. When he couldn’t pay his debts, we lost it.”

My mouth falls open. “But that’s bullshit!” I shout.

Reed’s eyes shoot to the ceiling, both of us falling quiet, listening for shifting or footsteps. When there’s nothing, Reed says, “I know. But that’s what happens when you go into business with someone. I could pay his debts off for him, buy his half of the restaurant, but I’m not equipped for that right now.”

“So you’re here because $500,000 could get you your restaurant back?”

“I don’t think I want Aeronaut back. But I can start fresh. On my own this time. No partner to drag me down.”

In the shadows, I can just barely make out the darkness of his eyes. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Reed. You deserve better than that.”

“Yeah, well…I haven’t told anyone.”

Something spears through me. He hasn’t told anyone. Except he told me. He knows my secret, and I know his. But his doesn’t have the potential to bomb this entire week. This entire family.

“Your secret is safe with me.” I set my mug down on the counter and realize there’s a sticky note pressed to the top of it that I didn’t see until my eyes adjusted to the dark. Bright pink. I gasp. “Is this Sabrina’s wi-fi log in?” I already have my phone out.

“Yeah. She gave it to me and told me to give it to you when I was done with it. I’m sure it won’t take Mom long to figure out we all have access.”

As soon as I’m connected, my phone starts to vibrate in my hand with notifications. One of them catches my eye, and I click on it, opening up my email. I read through what came in, surprised by the nerves in my stomach. “Well…” I say, “…that’s that.”

Reed comes over to me, glancing down at my phone. “What is it?”

“An email from the mediator.” I look up at him, feeling the zing of alcohol in my blood when I find him towering over me in the dark. “Chase and I are officially divorced.”

I’m not sure what kind of reaction I was expecting from him. But Reed gives none. He just nods. “You okay?”

“Good fucking riddance.” I hiccup, and he grins. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed before the world starts to spin, yeah?”

“I’m fine,” I say, but he’s already started to steer me in the direction of the bedroom. “Nope,” I say, ducking under his arm and knocking into a corner of the wall when I attempt a ninja spin to face him. “I’m sleeping on the couch.”

He sighs. “We doing this again?”

I back toward the couch. “Just let me sleep on the couch, and we won’t have to do it ever again.”

“I’m not letting you?—”

I stick my fingers in my ears. “La la la,” I sing quietly. “I can’t hear your protest. La la la.”

I don’t realize I’ve closed my eyes until I feel his hands wrap around my wrists and yank my fingers out of my ears. “Okay, crazy lady. If you insist on me taking the bed, then I insist on you sharing it.”

I blink up at him. “Share the bed?”

He shrugs. “Sure. It’s big enough. We wouldn’t have to have any contact. We can even put a pillow wall between us.”

Something about the way he says it makes me snort with laughter. “It’s really ironic when the idea of sharing a bed with my brother-in-law sounds way better than sharing one with my husband. I mean, ex-husband.” I burst into a fit of giggles.

“You can trust me.”

His words immediately kill the laughter in my stomach. My brain has finally caught up with my ears, processing what Reed has suggested. That we share the bed. Sleep in it together. The thought makes my entire body start to go hot, like I’ve broken into a fever.

“I know. I do.” I trust him far more than I can trust Chase right now. If I went back up there, would he even make it a whole night without trying to get me to have sex with him again? That kind of makes me want to gag. “Yeah. Okay. We can do that. ‘S a big bed.”

He’s clearly holding back a smile, which I sort of wish he wouldn’t do. He has a great smile. A smile that could launch a thousand ships. And probably already has. I would fully believe that a minimum of a thousand girls have been obsessed with Reed over the course of his lifetime.

“Let’s go, kid,” he says, taking me by the wrist and leading me into the bedroom.

I shut the door behind us. “You know, you have some nerve calling me ‘kid.’ You’re only two years older than me.”

“That’s two whole years of life experience.” He throws back the blanket on the bed, and I suddenly get very nervous. I know I agreed to this whole thing, and I really would rather share a bed with Reed than with Chase right now, but it’s still Reed . We’ve never shared a bed before, never even really spent this much time together before, day after day like this.

He settles onto the mattress, and I’m still standing beside the bed, trying to get my limbs to move. I’ve never slept beside anyone but Chase.

Okay. This is silly. It’s just Reed. It would be like sharing a bed with one of my brothers. I just need to pretend he’s Marshall or Lance or Sammy. Except that when he’s laying down the way he is, the blanket at his waist, I can see the shape of every muscle under his shirt, the ridges of his abs and the swell of his chest. Definitely not like sharing a bed with one of my brothers.

I push back the comforter and climb in beside him. He doesn’t make a move to put a pillow wall between us, so I don’t say anything about it.

We lay there, the lights from the lamps shining down on us, both of us breathing quietly and saying nothing. I turn my head look at him, and he turns his to look back. Heat rushes up to my cheeks.

“I feel like I’m at a sleepover,” I say to break the silence, a snort of laughter bursting out of me. “You better not fall asleep first. I’ll draw a mustache on your face with a Sharpie.” When he raises his eyebrows at me, I burst into even louder laughter. “Oh! You already have a mustache!” At that, I laugh until my stomach hurts.

When I’ve finally settled down, it’s to find Reed quietly watching me with a small smile on his face. “I think someone’s a little tipsy.”

I settle my arms above my head, feeling content and comfortable for the first time since getting to New Hampshire. “I almost never drink.” I lick my lips, tasting the honey flavor of the bourbon on my mouth. “I’m very warm.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, that’ll happen when you’ve shot-gunned that much bourbon.”

“Hey,” I whisper to him, “do you want to watch a scary movie?”

His eyes flicker to the TV mounted on the wall. “Sure. It won’t make it hard for you to sleep?”

“Ha! Nothing scares me. Except maybe misogyny and not being able to trust the things we always thought we could.” Not sure where that came from.

Reed, the remote already in his hand, blinks at me. “There might be a few movies we need to avoid then.”